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He wanted to write a poem


This horse I thought I’d  ride

Is dead. Why try to flog  it?

Might as well get off the thing.

Don’t think to drag it

To the winning post.

What winning post? There isn’t one.

It’s dead I tell you. Dead.

Always on its last legs it was.

Gasping its demise when first

It dropped into my head.

Carried me nowhere,

Never reached the starting line.

Bury it good and proper I will,

And get a sleeping dog instead.

It might dream something up

Ron Gardner

The Pardon – Promote Yourself

honeysucklexxxxxxxxx

My dog lay dead five days without a grave
In the thick of summer, hid in a clump of pine
And a jungle of grass and honeysuckle-vine.
I who had loved him while he kept alive

Went only close enough to where he was
To sniff the heavy honeysuckle-smell
Twined with another odor heavier still
And hear the flies’ intolerable buzz.

Well, I was ten and very much afraid.
In my kind world the dead were out of range
And I could not forgive the sad or strange
In beast or man. My father took the spade

And buried him. Last night I saw the grass
Slowly divide (it was the same scene
But now it glowed a fierce and mortal green)
And saw the dog emerging. I confess

I felt afraid again, but still he came
In the carnal sun, clothed in a hymn of flies,
And death was breeding in his lively eyes.
I started in to cry and call his name,

Asking forgiveness of his tongueless head.
. . . I dreamt the past was never past redeeming:
But whether this was false or honest dreaming
I beg death’s pardon now. And mourn the dead.

Richard Wilbur

A gun or knife for a life

 

 

Mums bubbles burst, A brother or sister lay in bed

A hospital bed within 24 hours they are dead

Because someone’s used a gun or a knife,

A young person lays dead

The government just sit and watch

The toll keeps rising another young kids dead,

“Bring back hanging” an MP said an eye for eye

Before all the young kids are dead,

They have burst my mums bubble

A brother or sister lay in bed

A hospital bed within 24 hours, they are dead

Because someone’s used a gun or knife

And taken yet another kid’s life

by

Thomas Sims

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