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
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~