Categories
Poetry

Hope

The men with the money

were at the soup kitchen today

a place where the homeless

go for their lunch

The men with the money

say there’s plenty of homes

they’re dropping them on the council land

like bits of confetti

And the men with the money

say its all been approved

while they cut out the affordable

and the homeless were moved

Where did they go – on the darkest of nights

to a place that was open – avoiding the fights

away from the shiny bright towers of the rich

not far from the spot – they call their pitch

But out of the darkness – a small ray of light

as a lad finds himself a bed for the night

and cheers in abundance as his pals they all smile

as he’ll be out of the cold and the rain for a while

Categories
Acrostic Freedom of Expression Poetry

Hope

I

Holding on to

One beam of starlight – the

Possibility that , Perhaps

Everything will be ok when the sun comes up

II

Heaven’s Gift,

Over which

People have positive thoughts for

Everything Going Right

Categories
Health Humour Poetry

Picking up Radio 3

Headaches…

They’re a funny thing!…with all those little gifts that they bring.
Head pressures, fireflies and aversion to sun
and that’s before they’ve even begun

I might have appreciated Kipling or Keats,
but instead, something musical its left as a treat.
A Clashing steel cymbal, a large kettle drum
A Brass section blaring out noises not hums

They’re playing a jam – as I try to sleep,
as night time moves slowly – the noise it just leaps
all as I try to rest my sore head
and hide under the pillows at the top of the bed

The band in my head – is jamming it loud
the horn sections blasting their flugelhorns proud
Never playing their sounds in the day
Preferring the night during sleep they will play.

But smile I will, as those horns they will jive
The sound of that music – means I’m still alive
Even though, it appears to me
My head’s stuck on Jazz Night on Radio 3