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Duncan Mitchell Poem
Dedicated to my favourite poet - Shelley
If a tortoise, if a turtle
You are never going to hurtle
Witness how your limbs are placed
Splayed east to west, all carapaced
what if some meat-eating moron,
Jonesing for a snack to gnaw on,
sees you sumo-stepping by
thinks "Hey look - a fresh meat pie"?
Running will beget disaster
You beat a hare so now you're faster?
You let your tasty bits protrude
and pretty soon they're getting chewed
No! Stop to suck your vitals in,
and hope he likes his toothy grin
Cause it's going to get busted
your gooey filling's well encrusted
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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Duncan Mitchell Poem
Bad poetry is what one gets
when horny people don't have sex
so if this rhyme seems juvenile
give me a break, it's been a while
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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Duncan Mitchell Poem
I liked it back when we were thought a pair
And held in high esteem by lovers all
Who envied what it was we seemed to share
when we were also fooled within that thrall
As actors lose themselves in parts that call
for reinvention on a stage set bare
We played our roles as partners till our fall
I liked it back when we were thought a pair
How long then were we blindly unaware?
Imprisoned to ourselves behind a wall
Over which the outside world would stare
And held in high esteem by lovers all
Did they not sense our soaring passion stall?
Did we pretend because we didn't dare
Betray our lie to those who held us tall
Who envied what it was we seemed to share
Rituals and habits were our snare
We once long-striding lovers forced to crawl
till only rote and duty lingered there
When we were also fooled within that thrall
Their crushing expectations left us small
You took all else I was, to my despair
what little hope I had is in your haul
If others need that from us, I don't care
I'd like it back
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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Duncan Mitchell Poem
Though looking back I wish I'd called a Doc
The optimist in me hoped you'd get well
Your death to me came somewhat as a shock
For I was sure I'd emptied out the Glock
I should have checked the chamber for a shell
but looking back I could have called a Doc
I still remember thinking "What the flock?"
And quizzically your face said "What the hell?"
Your death to us came somewhat as a shock
But once it fired your life was on the clock
And urgent care was needed, I could tell
so looking back I should have called a Doc
While these events have cured my writer's block
There's little else to do here in my cell
I've come to see your death came as a shock
With all this time to think I've taken stock
and weapons tips from those in here a spell
Though looking back I wish I'd called a Doc
Your death to me came somewhat as a shock
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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Duncan Mitchell Poem
Love is the rebuttal to a cynic
Who holds we're only true to selfish ends,
Patients at some existential clinic
Inside for reasons no-one comprehends
For madmen have no cause to make amends
Weak-minded men seek out what serves them best
The coward dreams of karma and pretends
while lunatics take all and damn the rest
Personal survival's not the quest
for individuals always die alone
No, thriving here together is our test
The madness is to think we're on our own
To love is to accept this is the goal
Love our reward as pieces of the whole
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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Duncan Mitchell Poem
A pattern from our history - albeit anecdotal
Pick any evil SOB - he's probably teetotal
Hitler didn't touch the booze, and neither Torquemada
Bin Laden with a drink to choose took yak's milk - nothing harder
Pol Pot too forsook the brew, Bieber was too young
Stalin may have had a few but not your Mao Tse Tung
Donald Trump, of president's the Idiot du Jour
He may love your blandishments but not a heavy pour
Risking some hyperbole but very plainly stated
You can shove sobriety it's clearly over rated
If we're all to get engaged in evil's true demise
Don't waste your time getting enraged - here's wisdom from the wise
To rid their inhumanities, step back awhile and think
The course to alter history's to buy that man a drink
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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Duncan Mitchell Poem
The love we share might rate no beauty prize
Aesthetics playing servant to its plot
Seen best through finger blinds drawn cross the eyes
A love festooned in Hallmark rhymes it's not
Still we alone stood witness at its face
The provenance of each disfig'ring weal
Inflicted wounds our tongues dare not retrace
Kept moving on and left the past to heal
For love is our reward for knowing such
That self-survival is a pauper's end
Without your love I'd not have learned that much
The richness of my life's to comprehend
Love's beauty's lies not open but at heart
You are my depth, my love my work of art
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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Duncan Mitchell Poem
The poet's task is simple, noble and bold
For the poem need only hold open a door
long enough to allow the reader to escape
Copyright © Duncan Mitchell | Year Posted 2019
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