Little Poems

A little sh

 

Words speak
For me
They even sing
Or bark
It's nothing
That I have
No voice
For words
Will bring
Their own
Sound in

 

 

 

 

Alternatively

 

I don't worry so much
About the establishment
I have seen them up close
They're nothing to write home about

 

 

 

 

And so it goes

 

Our world is just
The strangest place
We wave at the car
And not at the face

 

 

 

 

Crowded out

 

Even in the in-crowd I've always felt out
I've never quite known what in/out is all about
I sense it's nonsense but to some it's all
Being big and central or sidelined and small
But we are small beings and we should all know
We'll all be put out when it's our time to go
So best be out and ready, waiting for the ride
It can be oddly pleasant, here on the outside

 

 

 

 

Diaries

 

Years of experience
In a plastic crate from B & Q
Considering all that's in there
It's very quiet when you lift the lid

 

 

 

 

Drained

 

You can be aware that you have a lot to give
To other people
But not have the faintest idea how to go about it

This can make a person miserable
And in turn reduce what it is they have to give
To virtually nothing

 

 

 

 

Family smug

 

Don't be family smug
It's really very trying
Others around you
Will end up crying

 

 

 

 

Curses

We judge books by covers

And women much worse

For the female of this species

There is more than one curse

Flat good

 

I have a picture
Of the sea
It has a calming
Effect on me
This is no small feat
Not small at all
For one so flat
And hung on a wall

 

 

 

 

Girls learn this only once

 

Tall, hard and cold
Men you like
Who don't like you
You bend
You twist
To fit them right
You waste your precious time
That's what you do

 

 

 

 

It started with a sneer

 

Anger breeds anger
Hate breeds hate
Break up the cycle
It can be too late

 

 

 

 

Learning the words

 

I am really so easy to read
Take me steady, line by line
Don't start fretting, huffing, sighing
Follow the lines and you'll do just fine

 

 

 

 

Life

 

Everything's ridiculous
Too ridiculous for words

 

 

 

 

Living for beginners

 

Breathing's important
Food is good too
Everything else
Is just something you do

 

 

 

 

My way

 

A family of women
Of strong opinion
Is never quiet for long
Each one has her say
Each day in some way
And no one admits to being wrong

 

 

 

 

Number one fan

 

At six I loved Donny
Right till death us do part
At seven I moved on
Oh, the young, cheating heart

 

 

 

 

Nurse!

 

Therapy
Therapy
What can the matter be?
What can the matter
Not
Be
Is more like it

 

 

 

 

Pluses and minuses

 

(a) A few words on positivity
Yes

YES

YES

(b) A few words on negativity

I don’t really see the point of this exercise

 

 

 

 

PR

 

Oh PR PR
You have much to answer
FR
You fill the world with
PRties
No-one wants to go to
But has to
For FR
Of missing
OpPRtunities

 

 

 

 

Puzzled mind

 

A badly shuffled
Jigsaw
In a paper bag
What a day
What a week
What a time
It's had

 

 

 

 

Running the home

 

You're everything
And nothing
All at the same time
You're vital
And redundant
You're one of a kind

 

 

 

 

Save the music, save the world

 

I’d like to hear the world just sing
Without that Simon Cowell
His cutting prose and stupid pose
Oh, peace throughout the land
That’s what I’d vote for

 

 

 

 

Sex and drugs

 

Sex and drugs
Do go very well together
You're high
Times high
You're gorgeous
And so's what's-his-name

 

 

 

 

Short love

 

I loved you for 3 weeks
Or maybe longer
It may seem a short love
But it was stronger
Than you might imagine
From its length

 

 

 

 

Some words in lines

 

Handfuls of paper
Some written, some typed
Poems and articles
Notes and the like
Bits that fell out
Of a man full of holes
Meant nothing to no one
But proof of his woes

 

 

 

Sweet nothings

 

You are nothing
I am less
Let's admit it
We're a mess

 

 

 

 

That job'll be the death of you

 

My leaving present
Was a fine headstone
Named and dated
I carried it home

 

 

 

 

The far wrong

 

Vote that way
Then kill yourself
Because you know
Inside and out
To all intents and purposes
You're already dead

 

 

 

 

Weirdo

 

Oh, all of us are weirdos
It’s odd that, but it’s true
And the more you call me ‘weirdo’
The less hope there is for you

 

 

 

 

Why one is childish rather than pretentious

 

Because quite enough other people
Already do
Pretentious
So well
And so regularly


All poems by Rachel Fox (some time after 1997)