Short Alfie Poems

A waste of time

 I have been so busy writing 
that I have not had time to write.
Ploughing meagre soil
the harvest not enough to feed my heart.
A mountain of words that tell nothing
more than a wall to hide behind.
“what was it all about Alfie?”
 A question that has no answer.
My August casts long shadows
and the famine continues....

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Morning

Slumbering in the shallow of sleep
where memories of movies are seen
The shift of the pebbles
nibbled by tiny crabs
senses of songs
“ What was is all about Alfie?”
Repeat itself 
saddened by life's  vagary 
Dreams like oil slicks on the surface
of water-polluted thoughts
thrown into the tidal sand 
Sinking into Hypnos's arms
wake, when birds sing
the blue hope 


...

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