Day: February 24, 2022
Whitby North Yorkshire by K
Bored with peace
We can fight about our gender
We can fight about belief
We can wonder about this Russian war
We don’t crucify two thieves
Are we feeling boredom?
Are we short of friends?
We could help the lonely and the old.
This is not the end
The Death Instinct was mentioned by S Freud
But was it Murder Suicide or Fraud?
He wanted to explain what makes no sense.
As our hearts bang and our innards wrench.
As Russia smites Ukraine we hold our breath
Our imagination balks, we think of death
How many more will suffer Putin’s wrath?
As NATO stalked the border witches’ path
Cats and men
I dream at nights of my old friends
My husband and his loving hands
I dream of all the cats we had
Alfred who slept on the bed
He laid his head upon my foot
As I wrote a poem of love
Jimmy who was small and black
She bit my hand if I got up
I did not wish to wet the bed
She misheard the words said
The last night here she gazed at me
I think she knew she would not be
Lucky was the nervous one
Black and white , apartheid none
He liked my husband’s shoulder dear
He draped himself and lost all fear
Now the cats have all gone off
I am frightened by a cough
My husband comes to me at night
Fortunately he can’t bite
He touches me with tenderness
Smiles and wishes me,God Bless.
When I waken I feel lost
So I have to wear a watch
I seem to have no solid self
I feel nervous of poor elves
I don’t mind an angel sweet
He could rub my aching feet
I will have no other man
They are frightened of women
They don’t like to lose at Chess
They don’t like to wash my dress
They will brush my winter coat
Never ask me what I wrote
I do not wish to anger men
They might shout and bawl again
I think maybe I will turn gay
Ask a lady, what to say?
They may not understand my needs
Killing flowers to help the weeds
Talking all the weary night
On the whole they’re parasites
Also they may menstruate
I can’t give them seeds to take
So they will leave and get a man
This is where it all began
Eve and Adam,God and man
Cain and Abel, apple flan
Noah and his Ark so fine
I wish I had one in the rain
I wonder when the world will end?
I am old so be my Friend,
Little flowers pressed between book leaves
Turn to paper recently bereaved