NEXT TO NOTHING

In the near-quietness of morning,
the hum of distant traffic,
a dog's occasional bark,
birdsong, car doors closing.


I lie awake, eyes closed,
absorbing the noises,
and out of next to nothing
a poet starts composing.

THESAURUS

I reach
for the thesaurus,
thumb the pages
in vain,
trying to write
about love,
but lost for words
again.

THE LOOK OF LOVE

Why don't you look at me
the way that Ingrid Bergman
looked at Humphrey Bogart?


She didn't have to
say a word,
not a word........

THIS WEEK'S MOST VIEWED POEMS

This week's most viewed poems. Thanks to all viewers. Click and read.

MICK JAGGER'S CHATEAU

THE LONGER I LIVE

SAUSAGES BURNING AND SHAVING SOAP

WATCHING MY ONOMATOPOEIAS AND QUOEIAS


NOT AS EASEL AS IT LOOKS

TO RETURN

TWO DOTS OF SNUFF

THE BIG QUESTION

INVITATION TO A MURDER

HOPELESS

Spider in a teacup
swam to his death,
faint were the bubbles
from his last breath.

MOVIE MADNESS

Pardonnez moi
pardonnez vous
but what time is 
Gerard Depar due?
*
Cecil B DeMille
made big picture shows,
but did 'e pic his nose?
*
Running round hither and thither,
does your googie wither?
*
Timber yard sign
hangs above the clock:
"Be snoopy,
come and see our wood stock."
*
Willem da friend
or Willem Dafoe?
*
Who'd go west
like he should?
Clint East would.

FRUSTRATIONS

Sometimes you piss into the wind
and fart against thunder,
become the bird on the ladder, 
the rat on the treadmill,
searching for the pinpoint 
where reality meets the dream,
as obstructions and craters 
on your path always seem
to divert you left and right,
to cause you to trip and fall,
to test you with frustrations
to challenge your perseverance,
to push you to the edge of the abyss
offering you the devil's choice
of eeny-meeny swim or drown.
But at the crunch hang on to the truth 
that the bastards will never grind you down.