PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

If I was to have a choice of place,

That came from some healthy voice,

To take myself atop a mountain great,

And live sparingly of the salted boys,

Who seem to forever find me out no matter where,

I be bedded or removed from their mind acute,

Although I often return for a spare,

They come again, knock, knock, toot, toot.

And with them gifts of gold and parcelled crumbs,

That I not be ungrateful but I must admit,

Its another day with the new old shit,

That gets between not and a bit too dumb,

Quiet in the silence of the missing thieves,

That again my heart my dears receive.



(c)R.H.Elliott 2004.