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Jonathan Holcroft Poem
Apparently,
I was a naughty boy
At three,
Disappearing in a shopping centre,
Lost for what felt like hours.
Legend has it,
The infant siren song caught air-conditioned wind
And led the search party to a curtained grotto.
She tells me, there, they found
My talent on display,
A song and dance before a giant mirror,
While curious stranger neighbours
Changed their clothes.
I don’t believe the myth,
I had no talent then and precious little now, I think.
But it sure sounds fun.
Rumour has it, the best days are behind us.
Though my young’un’s on her way
into legend now.
Loves that tale.
Copyright © Jonathan Holcroft | Year Posted 2025
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Jonathan Holcroft Poem
We wear suits,
And we dispute,
Your fatigues,
Tired and black.
We have jokes,
And we provoke
Your fatigue,
Tired and black.
We have cash,
So can be brash.
You’re fatigued,
Tired and black
You have needs,
So get on your knees,
In your fatigues,
Tired and black.
Copyright © Jonathan Holcroft | Year Posted 2025
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Jonathan Holcroft Poem
Fields Sun
. Water Time
. Ripen chop
. Harvest crop
. Cereal
. Nibble chew
. Swallow fill
. Fibre Smile
Happy Tummy
Copyright © Jonathan Holcroft | Year Posted 2026
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