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Don’t Worry, Kid – Promote Yourself

bluebirdxxxxxxxxx
I shed my skin many years ago.

At the back of those high trees in junior school.
That never ever seemed to grow gold in autumn.

It’s still there I bet – petrified. Old. stone skin.
Knees supporting a chin somehow still held high.
With a muddy arse on blooded school trousers.

Just still lacking whatever that place kept
Telling me I lacked.

We are different people him and I
He is my Bukowski’s bluebird
The boy I nurture and protect. As me and my own.

No one sees him – no one hurts him.

Only problem is –
He tells me what he used to tell everybody
“I’m fine, nothing to worry about, I just fell over”

I wish I didn’t know any different.

-Christopher Flame

christopherflame.wordpress.com

Louise – workshop poetry

Louise was a lovely girl she rested beneath the trees

She was enjoying the scenery

When all at once she had a thought

She really  needed to eat some lunch

But all she had was a piece of cheese

She rummaged through her shopping

And laid it on her knees.

A piece of bread was all she found,

Really not much of a wheeze,

Just  enough to make her sneeze.

By Claire

 

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