Short Misdemeanour Poems

It was such a tiny misdemeanour
In the broom cupboard with the night cleaner
We wouldn't get caught
Or that's what I thought
’till she squealed like a drunken hyena...

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The one who dipped his hands in the till
Adventurist misdemeanour discovered
That waywardness create no anxiety
We smoothened ruffled feathers

We found our mind and heart tranquil 
To be truthful we surprised ourself
But why not forgive and forget
Love is God’s healing elixir...

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       Wreathing this encephalon - wrenched, gnarled, murdered
                   Neurons in diminution - de-escalated, clashing, ramming now lethargic
             Canvass of verse and poesy - lacking, still vacuous and comic
                       But language and fervour is penned, tedium and ennui clobbered....

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SORRY 
(ETCETERA ETCETERA)

In my world a word of genuine emotion,
today in this battlefield for far right, 
far left and all those in between,
a word reconstructed, 
for those wrong doers caught, 
and only when they are,
a buzz word for a last chance grovel, 
for a population conditioned to except the insincerity
and false tears that evaporate as quickly,
as one’s memory of their misdemeanour.

 © Harry J Horsman 2022...

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