
repeating silence the same as it ever was one-handed applause Weak Performance -Eugi featured image – Pexels
My poem “Weak Performance” featured on Poetry Soup

repeating silence the same as it ever was one-handed applause Weak Performance -Eugi featured image – Pexels
My poem “Weak Performance” featured on Poetry Soup
I know I’m not a hero though I tend to forget what if I’m not Romeo? I deserve a Julieta love that’s young and crazy love that’s passionate love that’s true and precious love her just like that there’s my Juliet? Open up the skies now crack the land below drop her straight in my arms like in a magic show until I […]
Where’s My Juliet?
No, I don’t remember the date when I first laid eyes on you but I remember the adrenaline that burst through my nerves my eyes made merry No I don’t remember the date when I first held your hand but I remember the tingling sensation that jolted through my veins as we walked together No I don’t remember the date when we exchanged […]
No I Don’t Remember The Date
I like poems that make me laugh An aching neck of an old giraffe orangutan who chased his tail orange zebra all set to sail I also like the ones about ghosts silly one where they eat their host gruesome one about a witch who threw little children in a ditch Then some poems inspire […]
My Favourite Poem
From morning till night it was Lucy’s delight To chatter and talk without stopping:
There was not a day but she rattled away,
Like water for ever a-dropping.
No matter at all if the subjects were small,
Or not worth the trouble of saying,
‘Twas equal to her,
she would talking prefer
To working, or reading, or playing,
You’ll think now, perhaps,
that there would have been gaps,
If she had not been wonderfully clever:
That her sense was so great,
and so witty her pate,
It would be forthcoming for ever;
But that’s quite absurd, for have you not heard That much tongue and few brains are connected?
That they are supposed to think least who talk most,
And their wisdom is always suspected?
While Lucy was young, had she bridled her tongue,
With a little good sense and exertion,
Who knows, but she might now have been our delight,
Instead of our jest and aversion?
~ The Chatterbox – Ann Taylor
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