Tag: Poem

Polishing dead fathers shoes then trying to wear them obviously not a good fit, the premature passing of father meant I hadn’t grown enough to replace him on earth there was at least some room to grow the shoes were abandoned no amount of care would produce the result you desired, that the feet of your father would ever wear them again. Goodbye brown brogue with stiff laces let the residue essence of your father now rest in peace .

I only believe in the wind, about in the cold night air, how it passes and flutes and whistles through a million gaps and slithers of light, like pages in a book turning changing the story with every new word, wind will have more than enough to do.
As autumn arrives dying leaves brittle and noisy wind winding through twisty trees,  noisy dry dying leaves down to the ground they go mixed now on the forest floor with other wind  shot seed for unknown feet to bristle through,  heel high,  a soothing crunch of serenity in the solace and inevitability a changing season brings .

The cults and capers they’re always in the papers, the cults are coming you cannot stop them, signs and signal traffic lights before destruction. The master of ceremonies is definitely not god, he turned his back when the work was done for what he saw was despised, an obvious mistake had been made it was man.