Poem of the Day — New Treats

New Treats


Parked in bays of pity and glue

Stuck in paper chains

Gripped by fixed ideas

Slumber wish to keep out of the drowning houses

Count the animals

They won’t count you

Never have the self interest


Look outside for dinner there is a biscuit on the floor

And what’s more

Indeed a blade to slice the finger if you want to

Tickled to laugh out loud at the irony

Of steely glances at glass crafted wanderers

The ones with candles in their eyes


Shining for reflection in the mean time

A second opinion


Not professional to look at leg length

Only considering a shopping list; a fist for glory

A festival story

Given the lunch ticket is mistaken, meant for the holiday fund


Oh how the bile pours from ignorant reactors

Like a nuclear disaster in a six foot box

With a mouth to judge at random

A sad tearful existence with no time to consider


Has the pick of the patch been washed for Sunday

Hanging on the line

Dangling from the top of the high storey apartment

And gone


Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 5th January 2016


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