The cat liked tuna.

Wielding the poetry pen.

Dawn breaks, scattering the light to delight.

A clear vision welcomes night tired eyes.

Somewhere a wandering soul goes home.

Their seed sown, crop planted.

Time worn images shimmer in the light of day

Then gone.

Death a celebration of life.


His pale mirror image speaks silently

We all have a certain way of looking at people

A certain way of living with people.

All part of life’s circus

The show continues to evolve

Nobody has an absolute monopoly

Stepping out onto life’s stage

Expect outrage, pills, liquour and more

Harness your friends

Remember not only good guys wear white hats.

The tattooed Lady left the circus

Last night now history, a blurred history

It won’t fail to leave its mark

His thoughts, melting like snow flakes

WEDDING, what WEDDING as he packed his suitcase

Glad real life had no playback button

Closing the door on a heavily scented Havana cigar room

Leaving the cat in charge.

(c) Chris Black. July 2018

~The Poet’s Poet~