Best Workaday Poems

The bright sun 
       has 
       risen 
     ...

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Achievement, 2 of 2
                     ...

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I heard the owl call my name,
like a backbeat in a child's voice,
etched in shadows of a father's grave,

lonely echoes on a frosted night...

at dawn...

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Seemingly some kind of Message to

All and sundry about:

The colossal crimson sun imperceptibly sinks over the horizon,

Sinks beyond the road here, over the park in...

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Nearby, drained, workaday faces pass by:

Working people with working class woe:

Faces bent in suffering, near hopelessness, made indiscriminate rue.


But turn on the car radio as...

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The morning sun just rising, glaring;

a damp, colder, workaday street ...

fallen leaves scattered,

Halloween mere days away:


Suddenly:  Startled by the workman:

A stray, jet-black cat

frightenedly slinking...

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If my usual wasn't so ordinary
And didn't span great feats of generic
It may just be shy of extraordinary 
A mediocrity so bland I'm hysteric

Enormity in...

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Brexit Sonnet No. 41
‘Austria, not Australia!’
 

I’m Mad to the Max, brimmed full with deep disgust. 
So who’s on the bike and who’s in the...

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Mute and multiplied,thoughts trained
and tamer,the subconscious becomes
a workaday drama.A confusion then
evolves into the particular and floats
upon my page....

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The fault lies within ourselves”
The tearing down of a person
A breaking of the Spirit
The ruining of self
Infliction by other person’s words
Growing up among the abandoned...

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Love Along the Lake

Along the lake,
Gentle water lapping
Twinkling white caps splashing,
Duck wings flapping;
In a brilliant sunset strolling,
Arm in arm a workaday away;
The trill of laughter...

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Here’s to those who, late in life,
Might cultivate a skill,
A goal which, years ago, they never
Thought they could fulfill.

It might be blowing glass
Or playing chess...

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An ode to Mondays
One seventh of your life
A workaday deja vu
Memories of weekend
Coloring and shading viewpoints
New Year Resolutions echoed
Into rippled indecisions
Forgotten last minute moments 
Of...

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I speak of the breast best,
mother Mary and her voiceless love.
My pillow-talk told to doves and divas.

And my voice sounds in the whale bone,
in the...

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It took some time, but
eventually the denim
(after much scrubbing)
of my workaday soul
cleaned-up as if stone washed.

Valuable lessons
were tucked into new pockets,
the clucking hens
of a nagging...

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