Sometimes I've got to ask-
And can't help but exhort aloud
Am I haunted, Rask?
In this aging house
Where my granny passed
Grandpa died in this room
Marks were left of you
It's about time that I moved
We have a little boy
And a little girl
Or am I paranoid?
My bones ache just to stir
My niece,
My friend,
And I
In my bedroom
My niece,
My friend,
And I
Taking pictures
My niece,
My friend,
And I
I feared a ghost
That I
could see,
Clear as the day
We went to hide
It followed us,
Shiver, resile
I saw that girl beside
My niece, my friend
Don't be afraid
I'm terrified
Categories:
resile, grief, growing up, health,
Form: Free verse
Brexit Sonnet No.5
‘To Clothe The Wreck’
A game of chance, the climb to rule this land,
As much a slip of others as trip of yours.
Oft’ ruled by chance events, not thoughts well planned,
Same for freshers new, as time-served bores.
And now we see the cards in shuffled deck,
Prepared again to face the green baize cloth.
Plans anew prepared to clothe the wreck
That’s Brexit, now sad without its champagne froth.
But cards are dog-eared, faded, worn and ripped
With two faced jokers squirming in the pack.
The dealer haggard, drawn and ill-equipped,
Can’t stabilise for strength they plainly lack.
Quantitatively ease this wretched, worn out pile;
Print more talent and from Brexit, please resile.
©Keith Murphy
Categories:
resile, political,
Form: Sonnet