Something old - those photos faded now, seem strange and somewhat awkard, faces disappearing within past times
Something new will perhaps be so, for mere moments; time and technology in a fierce battle of existing and continuing.
Something borrowed - does anything really belong? is anything even really owned? Food, clothing, rites and rituals
Something blue like the sky, which scientists report is not coloured so but only appears thus. Not to be confusing. So don't overthink it
© gillena cox
A most embrassing moment,
Why did he accept the challenge?
The band leader shouted,
Blow boy!
He put the horn to his lips and with all his might.
He blew.
The horn is not his instrument.
What he grew up playing, is the pan
© gillena cox
They twinkle the night sky,Lift wishes heavenly high,
How time has ticked
a heaven round the stars,
Hope is the thing held up high.
© gillena cox
Let them smirk
I will write
Let them whisper
I will publish
Let them laugh
I will read to delighted children
Let them rag
I will read my poems to adult fingers snapping
Let them sink low
I will rise, rise, rise
© gillena cox
how lucky am i
to be privy to your life -
now you too have left
© gillena cox
He said he could play the flute
I thought he was being cute
And what of steelpan
He said of course he can
With his sister playing the lute
© gillena cox
Please, Behave!
When he picked her up,
Tossing her above him,
Ovehead held there,
[Marc Chagall, La promenade (The Promenade) (1918), oil on canvas, courtesy dVerse Poets Pub]
Her only thought was,
Please please,
Don't let my bloomers show,
My father would never approve
This kind of behaviour,
Please please,
Oh wind oh wind, behave!
© gillena cox
