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Michael Maccallum Poem
A woman is following me.
I am guessing she is lonely.
Having a stalker gives me glee.
It makes me feel quite naughty.
This is becoming bothersome.
She phoned up and called me a scum.
She disguised her voice with a hum.
But I know where the call came from.
Next door she is now a boarder.
She has a mental disorder.
She is ignoring the order.
I got it to try to ward her.
I wake up to find my hands tied.
She is standing by my bedside.
Telling me she is now my bride,
and we must toast with cyanide.
Copyright © Michael Maccallum | Year Posted 2016
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Michael Maccallum Poem
It is asked what happens after death,
what is your fate after final breath?
I am cursed as one who knows,
for I am now settled in repose.
Although my life is no longer there,
I still remain horribly aware.
My body's functions are in past tenses,
but I still retain all my senses.
I was brought low by my lover’s toxin,
and was not helped by failed digoxin.
I knew I was well past my prime,
when the doctor announced the time.
Later, my mind was overcome with a chill,
as the mortician brought out his drill.
As much as I desired it to be a dream,
the blade brought forth my silent scream.
Then I was the star at my own wake,
and my lover’s fake tears were hard to take.
Oh, how I raged that it was not she,
who laid there instead of me.
Today I reside in my plot,
where I remain while I rot.
Now one of my greatest fears,
is that I’ll remain beyond the years.
Copyright © Michael Maccallum | Year Posted 2016
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Michael Maccallum Poem
Footsteps where they should not be.
Is this, in fact, insanity?
Or might it be reality?
She to whom I gave my vow,
often spurned my bed with a scowl,
then to the taverns she would prowl.
I sought her out to make a stand,
but found her with another man.
I returned home with another plan.
When she returned for her purse,
I greeted her with knife and curse.
To her rest she rode a hearse.
Now through the window in the gloom,
I see a shadow from the tomb.
I fear it lusts for my doom.
I hear the creaking of the door,
then a shuffling 'cross the floor.
Soon, I think, I'll hear no more.
Footsteps where they should not be.
Is this, in fact, insanity?
I pray, it is not....
reality.
Copyright © Michael Maccallum | Year Posted 2016
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Michael Maccallum Poem
When I look in the bathroom mirror
what I see causes me much fear.
My reflection is not my own
but rather of a wicked crone.
She is trying to take my life
So I must quickly end this strife.
To the kitchen to get a blade
this evil skin will soon be flayed.
I take aim at the mocking face
and thrust the blade with rapid p
Copyright © Michael Maccallum | Year Posted 2016
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Michael Maccallum Poem
Here we are all trapped in single file
stuck in line at the grocery aisle
behind a lady in tattered nylons
perpetually searching for coupons.
Now she is causing us even more stress
arguing the price should be ten cents less
though that amount should be no cause of grief
she treats the cashier like some kind of thief.
Hopes of finding other lines are broken
as no other registers are open
my temperament begins to roil
as my groceries begin to spoil.
At last she gives up and gets out her purse
but then the problem becomes even worse
bypassing her cash to get out a card
inputting her pin code seems much too hard.
Just before we move to angry action
she finally completes her transaction
but then our new hopes are once again snagged
when she nags about how her food is bagged.
Her departure now ends our ordeal
the next guy puts his food through with zeal.
Oh, come on now, what the heck!
he is paying with a cheque!
Copyright © Michael Maccallum | Year Posted 2016
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Michael Maccallum Poem
This situation is most *****,
my lawn gnome has moved ever near.
He started over by the mere
and travelled now to my lawn’s clear.
I got him as a souvenir,
now he’s become a mutineer.
Close enough now to see his sneer,
and to notice he holds a spear.
I want to flee but to my fear,
around the house more gnomes appear.
His intent is now rather clear,
my fate seems to be quite severe.
I will try to sell my life dear.
Copyright © Michael Maccallum | Year Posted 2016
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Michael Maccallum Poem
Self
Content
You see me
And drag me in
Together, we play
You bore of me
Set me back
Hurting
Self
Copyright © Michael Maccallum | Year Posted 2016
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