Best Tumbledown Poems

Morning has broken as it has done for many years
Day to day we continue without the fear of fears
Then out of the blue their comes...

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the end is not so close
but I'm still drowning
in all ponds of Mars
guilty and filthy
and walk down the alley 
of sombre solstice
swearing at walls
after the...

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Hidden away on our lush verdant hills
are crumbling houses and derelict mills

These ancient buildings are tumbling down,
many people ignore them with a frosty frown!
 
If...

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Myrtle Parker

Myrtle Parker lived on the Riviera,
That’s the English one not the French.
Her favourite tipple is Red Currant Cider,
Only beverage her thirst would quench.

Never did...

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Somewhere east of nowhere
stands a rust encrusted shed
In a paddock full of weeds
by a tumbledown homestead

A windmill goes on turning
though the bore has long run...

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In a place many others often dread
Near the hollowed trees, and the haunted seas
She glides along the tumbledown cemetery
Deep down knowing those who are no...

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Howami? hmm... good question,
but for some unknown reason
more tired than usual...,
without daily twenty four hours
proper rest, I feel haggard.

I strongly suspect (a hunch acquired
upon returning...

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fear seems to be the cause du jour
fear if it all just ended
shapes us like quivering jello molds

fear of the landline
tapping into our heads
fear of...

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I not sure I’ll renew my poet’s license this
year, most of the keepers have been kept 
with the biggest ones caught, stuffed and hung
on the...

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DILAPIDATED GLOBE


A weary pneuma bleeds
Tears of the miserable
The poverty-stricken tumbledown
The opulence shows gusto.

At the sight of the indigent
But very penurious in helping...
They live in safety...

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She has a tumbledown deck, a creaky rocker.
Dandelion seeds carry memories
from one neglected garden patch to another.
She’s not that old, but her wine has mulled,
a...

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He sleeps late
because the milk cows have dried up
and the bulls long slaughtered.
There are no cowboys in the bunk house
just a couple of old chickens
pecking...

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Long, long ago in a land far away,
they lived a wise old woman who talked to the trees. 
She had a little crooked back and...

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She has a tumbledown deck, a creaky rocker.
Dandelion seeds carry memories
from one neglected garden patch to another.
She’s not old, but her wine has mulled,
the sun...

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Rolling clouds over rolling hills.
Kentucky is winding it roads out in endless curves.
No hurry,
this journey drives me
through its curling landscape
as a self-reading picture book of...

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