If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why? “Who Shall I Be? Oh, if I could be a chap from a tale, With swagger and wit (and maybe some ale), I’d pick someone grand, or silly, or sly— Here’s who might catch my whimsical eye! Sherlock Holmes—so …
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What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like? "Ode to My Morning Madness" I wake alas, the sun’s not up, My brain’s still stuck in last night’s cup. I pry my eyelids, dry and tight, Like glued-up shutters, what a sight! I stumble forth on zombie feet, To …
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If you could have something named after you, what would it be? In all modesty, there is nothing I would like named after me. I would instead just like to be remembered for who I am or what I was. No Names in Stone In all modesty, I must admit, No bridges, no streets, no …
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What tattoo do you want and where would you put it? Please note, this is not a selfy. If I had a tattoo, where would it be? Not on my elbow, and not on my knee. One on my chest? That's probably best, and one on the arm wouldn't do any harm. Then what about …
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self. Dear Joseph A century spun, Joseph, a life complete, Now hushed in slumber, where shadows meet. No breath you draw, no sun you feel, Just echoes softly, the years reveal. A hundred rings, a whispered name, Through fields of memory, a flickering flame. The touch of time, a …
Continue reading Dear dead me… a poem
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain. Oh, the questions that plague my days, The queries that set my soul ablaze. Let me count the ways I despise, The things that make me roll my eyes. “Did you get a haircut?” No, I shed, Like a golden retriever on my bed. “Are …
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Oh, lemon drizzle, sunshine’s twin, A citrus cloud, where joy begins. A sponge so light, it almost floats, A tangy zest, that tickles throats. I bake you often, or I try, Though sometimes things do go awry. The oven fumes, the timer pings, And then, disaster! Soggy things! Or worse, I’m keen, I’m on the …
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Better as a performance poem rather than printed word. To be read very slowly with a pause after each punctuation mark.… This poem is in not autobiographical, a confessional or a reflection of my life. I just write this stuff, I don't live it. That's not me! Photo from Pexels photo 247918. Pleasure accompanied by …
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Just for the record, that's not me! - Picture produced by Ai. Last year, they say, is history. The new year, is just a mystery. No So, as we ponder what’s in store Before we open New Year’s door, Reflect on what we’ve done. First, last year's resolutions Our world changing revolution Was set last …
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