Red Sky Rain

Staring at the red sky
Following the rain
Don’t I write so beautifully
When I’m in pain?

Adorned with gold flecks
Illuminating the sky
So far from the ground
But are you really that high?

Really, you’re doomed
Locked up, suppressed
Did you actually believe them
When they said you’d get the best?

Put the pen down
Stop writing – turn off the light
Stop living in a dream
It’s time again to fight.

 

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Third Floor Poet

What am I doing?
My heart ain’t in this
And if I can’t give my all
I’d rather give it a miss.

Look where I am
Look what I’m doing
Writing on the low
My real dream I’m pursuing.

My secret little spot
On the third floor
Where it’s nice and quiet
The place I adore.

A comfy place to sit
As I write rhymes
That keep me going
All through the night.

Need to make a move
As time is just wasting
This dead end job
To me is procrastinating.

My King

Baby, you’re my king
My world, my everything
Let’s make this thing official
With a pair of rings.

You’re just so special
Together let’s settle
In our own little palace
Surrounded by rose petals.

A super king bed
Each night we rest our heads
Show each other love
Within 1000 threads.

You I’ll never disrespect
Give you the very best
Bear you with more royals
Forever we’ll be blessed.

Housewife

It seems I’ll take pride
In being a house wife.
Being a working girl
Isn’t my kind of life.

I’ll stay at home and clean
Fulfil my husband’s dreams
Each and every night
If you know what I mean.

I’d raise my brood
Correct them if they’re rude
Lunch dates with friends
Then come home to cook food.

Laundry washed and pressed
The family all well dressed
I’d run the household
The standard? The very best.

100 Million

It wouldn’t just be
All about me
Friends and family
Would be mortgage free.

Pay check to pay check
Something we’d forget
No such thing as debt
Never have to sweat.

Any car he desires
My love would acquire
Custom plates, thick tyres
Designed by the driver.

Tuition fees paid
For my friends, I’d pay
We’d party all day
Everything’d be okay.

I’d donate to charity
More than happily
And just for clarity
I’d do it sparingly.

Life would be celebrated
No more days wasted
Financially elevated
For that day, I’m waiting.

Writer Army

Imagine as writers
We all formed an army
We’d be a creative bunch
Though probably quite barmy.

Beautiful scenery
We’d march through
Meet diverse characters
Along our way, too.

Times would be happy
Times would be sad
Times would be indifferent
Many emotions to be had.

As for our enemies
We’d defeat them in ink
For our pens are our swords
Our words, we’d print.

Nothing could defeat
All our brains combined
Our army of writers
Would forever survive.

The Simple Life

In a luxurious bedroom
I see myself laying
Writing out poems
With classical music playing.

Somewhere in the Hills
Tucked away and hidden
Ending each day
Reviewing what I’d written.

In this vision
My job’d be to write
In this vision
My job would be my life.

The few days off
Equal time to be inspired
Time to travel the world
For ideas to be acquired.

That’s the life I need
The life envisioned in my dreams
Perfection is what I see-
A life of simplicity.

Moonlight Garden Creatures

When the homely lights glow

Behind curtains that are drawn

The enchanted garden creatures

Are free to play ’til dawn. 


The pretty little pixies 

Dance within the grasses

Whilst the mystical magical fairies 

Fix the gnome’s glasses. 


The colourful garden mushrooms

Radiate reds, greens and blues 

To wake up the little old lady 

Who lives in the plant pot shoe. 


To protect them all from the rain

Lives a tree named Groot 

Who shelters them under his branches

And produces them with fruit. 


Every night the enchanted creatures 

Bask in the moon’s white rays

Every night they come alive

Until they see the first sign of day.

Wonderland

At times I feel like Alice 

Only I can’t fit through the door

I can see all that’s beyond it

Yet can’t enter as it’s too small.


Wacky is an understatement 

To describe what I see

Extravagant and over the top

Though it suits me perfectly.


The Mad Hatter I need

To critique my poetry 

Whilst the hare listens on

Responding with brutal honesty. 


Then there’s Cheshire Cat

Who can admit that he’s mad

He sees the world for what it is 

So for him I’m truly glad. 


The luscious green gardens

Are no doubt fit for a Queen 

Hopefully one with a heart 

That could never be mean. 


Suddenly I remember 

I’m still stuck at the entrance

I just can’t get into Wonderland 

And it’s driving me senseless!


One day I’ll get there

Sadly I walk away

I’m determined I’l enter Wonderland

Just not today.