Poem: Cold Wars

Cold Wars, a poem

Morning.
A tickle in my throat
announces the vanguard of
hostile invasion.
My own personal Star Wars
system has been breached.

Silver Lining

When I was my mother the other week, I read her this poem. It was new to me, and if she knew it before, she had forgotten it. We both enjoyed it immensely. And I loved the fact that we smiled at the same lines; looked at each other with the same delight in its discovery; lingered over it and exclaimed at the humour.

Strange that my mother’s dementia should have led us again to share poetry. Had she been one of those ‘marvelous’ nonagenarians who have retained full use of  their faculties, we would probably be having far more prosaic conversations.

As a silver lining, it ain’t bad.

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How Long is Your Cat?

Pseu, Sophie and I have been measuring our cats and it seemed to beg a poem. This is my composition, made up in the bath last night. It feels like a first verse.  So there may be more. Feel free to contribute should you be so inclined.

Acrostic poem

Herald of Easter

On a plate

Toasted golden

Cut in two

Round and radiant like the sun, a dough

O, globed on a china plate

Shiny with butter

Spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon

Branded with the

Unremarked emblem of the

Nazarene’s death.

I’m not entirely happy with all the words here, but I am forever scribbling half poems on scraps of paper and then throwing them away, or making them up in my head and not writing them down at all. So this time, I wanted to at least get a version of this penned, and in some way finished.