On Feathered Wings


You watch over me,
On the ground,
Protecting me,
From all around.
***
Guiding me,
To a path clear,
Saving me,
From hate and fear.
***
When I trip,
You pick me up,
When I slip,
You sit me up.
***
You are my guardian,
On feathered wing,
Thought as arcane,
By us human.
***
Watch over me,
My guardian angel,
Unmoving as a tree,
And permanent as a hill.

Ode to a Collie


A sheep wrangler,
A fluffy hugger,
A muddy runner,
These are some,
Of the qualities,
Of a collie.
***
A lazy sleeper,
A fire hogger,
A bone scoffer,
All things done,
With great fun,
By my cute collie.
***
A watchful friend,
A fierce protector,
A valiant defender,
What more can I say,
About my loving,
Short haired collie.

If I Leave Tonight


If I leave tonight,
And pass from this life,
Don’t morn for me,
Or wish me to life.
***
Just look up,
And see the stars,
Think of me,
Where you are.
***
I may not be,
There beside you,
But we both see,
The sky that you do.

Field Of F#@k$


I plant my seeds with great care,
And lay my time down everywhere,
Make time to love and share,
And foster growth in my field there.
***
Sadly the crop doesn’t grow,
No-one sees and no-one knows,
Around my feet nothing moves,
No fucks are growing beneath my shoes.
***
Not for lack of want or care,
I can’t find a fuck anywhere,
Not a care in the air,
I don’t have a fuck to share.
***
My field of fucks is running barron,
Due to many years of caring,
I would not want to keep carrying,
Other people’s wants and burdens.
***
So when you ask for a fuck from me,
There is nothing in my fuck tree,
Try next season and we will see,
If a fuck will grow for you and me.

What Isn’t Poetry


Is a poem a poem no matter what,
Or should it rhyme or should it not,
When is a poem just a statement,
Or a verse a poetic lament,
Some like two lines in quick succession,
Some like Iliads that are never ending,
But whatever your preference for poetry is,
Does anyone know what poetry isn’t?