Time, Just Stand Still

I am the youngest I will ever be,
Yet the oldest I have ever seemed,
Stop the clock now,
And let time stand still.
For he is the reason,
Life is never dull,
But sometimes I need,
The clock to stop,
And time to leave me be.
But he marches on,
Tick by tock,
And tock by tick,
Endlessly marching to the metronome.
So cherish the time,
Because tomorrow as with now,
You will be the youngest you ever were,
But the oldest you have ever been.

London From Above

From above the london lights,
Shine orange, yellow and white.
The trains like worms,
Go underground,
Only to come up,
On the other side of town. 
Everyone is busy,
In their own little world.
No-one says hi,
Or whispers a word.
And I judge them here,
From my ivory tower.
Up high in the clouds,
Above the towers.
They don’t know I’m here,
Looking down on them.
As I climb higher,
In my roll of tin.
London is a blur,
Of lights on the ground.
Goodbye London,
And your mystical underground.

Happy Birthday Google

No search is,
Too large or small,
No query,
Too hard to take,
We search away,
You correct our mistakes,
But There is now,
A group of adults,
Who have never had,
To hypothesise,
Before hitting shelves,
All by themselves,
To find the answers,
Without your help.
That’s not a bad thing,
It’s only good,
An advancement,
Of our brotherhood,
An extension,
Of our intellect,
A sharing,
Across the internet.
So, Happy birthday,
Dear Google,
Happy birthday to you,
May your years be many,
And your information true,
Now and forever,
May the searching improve,
And let’s not go back,
To the days of the book.

What’s To Come?

What’s to Come,
Is poems,
One by One,
Posted here,
And shared there,
as regular as can be done.
Twice a week,
I will share a squeak,
Of poetry on here,
Tuesday and Friday,
As much as possible,
Throughout the year,
So follow, subscribe,
Or just refresh,
And feast your eyes,
On my very best,
Some of my worst,
All written in poetic verse.
When special occasions,
Check much more often,
For christmas countdowns,
And valentine’s scrawls,
I will post more and more,
And the readers call.


Welcome to round two,
Where everything is brand new,
If you read round one,
You know what’s to come,
And if you know it,
This is your welcome from the Pesky Poet.
Creatively Become Indifferent is dead,
It’s all coming here instead,
So watch out for more,
You are glad, I’m sure,
That the poetry lives.