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The Fat-Bellied Bird Prince

— For J

The fat-bellied bird prince sat upright in his nest

chirping so loudly, giving no mind any rest

When will he shut up? they ask 

– when he’s feeding or he’s annoyed.

Be sure not to ignore his aggressive demands, he enjoys your mind being toyed

So keep feeding him your weekly shop if you require any peace

for ensuring you keep his mouth full may give you some respite at least

— end

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Lazy Red Wine

Sometimes the only option is to sit

immobilised

numb

feeling dumb.

Predictable

enclosed

safe

lazy, mind hazy

inconsistent, but content

completely appreciative of the present.

Too much red wine can make you sick

if you don’t throw up your head will spin 

relax, let it soak in

— end

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Bed

Today I lay

same sheets

swaying trees

feeling safe 

particularly warm

utter detachment

a familiar, cosy isolation

— end

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Awake

Bright,

birds in flight

Tweets,

an audio delight

Green,

coming into sight

Eyes,

hope. No fear nor fright

— end

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The Day Bird at Night

Last night I flew high, danced the most epic dance

effortless perfection, relishing my own reflection

easing through the air, bidding hello to those that stared

landed in a sunny garden, felt the warmth on my hair

looked out to the horizon, far mountains and the sea

knowing deep down that this could be the real me

— end

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Cheat

It’s easy when you know how it’s done

say the rules, the rule of thumb

What happens though, when you feel numb?

Whimsical, unruly, fearful of being dumb?

This is how my brain moves the pen

One stroke at a time, the words ripen

Doubling up on predictable  rhyming verbs

Cheating my way around poetic curves

This is the laziest form of writing, I know

An easy way for the censor to show

What are you writing about, it doesn’t make sense

It’s a way for my brain to spill, offload, to vent

— end

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The Notebook

She opened the notebook and found the message inside

The writing read by no one sent from herself to find

It seems that she has always been like this, often trapped within her mind

If only she had the memory to remember to confide

— end

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The Boy on the Sand

– dedicated to Alan Kurdi (born as Aylan Shenu), and all of the humans that have lost their lives on the shores in their quest for freedom. 

The quiet dawned almost instantly

Screams of desperation, replaced by an unfamiliar tranquillity

For the Sea had no choice but to carry him to his destination

ridding him of the pain, fear and cold isolation.

He lay with the soft warm sand beneath him

the farewell waves kissing his lifeless skin.

For now this was his resting place

far from the evil his innocent eyes had faced.

— end

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Pitter Patter

— for T.K

Grey skies, soggy foliage

embraced by the child

His eyes filled with sparkles

eagerly he steps into the wild

Will it be fine, lumpy or sploshy this time?

Sheer anticipation dances in his fruitful mind

There is no need for umbrellas

he welcomes the tickles on his face

Slipping and sliding, distorting the puddle’s surface

For him you see, a bit of rain does not matter

Remember, the child’s bubble isn’t blighted by pitter-patter

— end

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No Sleep

His makeup was yellow
her shoes were red
the clothes neatly folded
at the end of the bed
He barked wildly
she tamely roared
He wasn’t too bad
for a cowardly whore

— end