Published Poems 2

In The City


Poem First Published  “Central Anthology”  Poetry Now  Mar 1996


The streets are not all paved with gold,
But with dirt and grime and litter;
And cardboard cities decry from the corers
With people forlorn and lost and bitter...
In the city.


There’s money being spent by County Hall,
Renovations to give the city a new look;
Lest we forget those who have suffered,
The children of the city whose lives they took...
From the city.


The greys of the towers strut above the skyline
Now, a façade of mustiness hangs, like a cloud;
The streets milling with the shopping people,
People who were once, so proud...
Of the city.


Exhaust fumes from the motor vehicles,
And plumes of toxins rising up from  chimneys
All add to the contractual destruction
That’s bringing the town to its knees...
In this, our city.


And how can we, as ordinary people, put right the wrong
That has been done to the heritage, to architectural
Beauty once heralded as the dreaming spires?
But now, surely becoming, a dying and poor city...
Our world, our lives, all...
In the city.


©tcmoon 2011 (1995)

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Whose Choice?

Poem First Published  “Euthanasia”  Poetry Now  Feb 1996

“Kill me!” Said the voice, pleading.
“Kill me now please, you can’t stop the bleeding!”

The doctor shook his head, he had heard the voice,
He took off his glasses and stared, it wasn’t his choice!
On the bed affront of him, a motionless cadaver.
Oh no! He was living and life like this could on forever.

The doc’ turned away, back to his medical machine.
Then again came the voice. In his head? In a dream?
He glanced just once more at the figure atop the bed;
He comforted himself. “death would be better” he said.
“look at the tubes, degradingly in every orifice
And family members gently giving a kiss – then they leave,
There’s nothing they can do. But grieve.”

The doc’ returns, his patient is calling.
On the machine, his heart rate is falling;
The patient is dying, doc’ knows there’s no chance,
Only futile attempts to grasp, that heavenly branch.

“Kill me! Kill me! Kill me please”
The chilling words cause the doc’ to freeze...
“...who said those words? From where did they come?”
This patient has no movement, that includes his tongue!
Doc’ knows this is terminal and he faces such a dilemma,
When a coma patient is begging euthanasia.

Doc’ covers his ears. “Kill me! Kill me!” says the voice.
What can doc’ do? Put his patients pleas first?

                                   That, is not his choice...

©tcmoon  2011 (1995)

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School Dinner

Poem Fist Published  “Skool Daze”  Anchor Books  Mar 1995

“Phew! Pongarama”
Said little Sid
As he lifted the lid.

“Poo! Stinkerimy!”
Said ol’ Deek
As he dared a peek.

“Ooh! Stenchy wenchy!”
Exclaimed spotty Luke
When he tried to look.

“Cor blimey! What a pong!”
Cursed Jim Smiff
When he thought he’d take a sniff.

“Aargh! Disgusting!”
Cried greedy Rick
Who  had to have a lick!

“I won’t eat it, I won’t!”
Shrieked Linda who wanted to be thinner.
“I will not eat anymore school dinner!”

“Nor will I!”
Shouted Reggie Lye.
Everyone agreed.

Well, what about you?

©tcmoon 2011 (1995)

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Angel’s Kiss

Poem First Published  “Fallen Angels”  Poetry Now  Mar 1996

Seldom darkened but strickened grief,
Til’ eternity made it’s call
And life so young succumbed in a whisper,
The  tears so shed by all.

Farewell we bid, to one, a friend
And one we all will sadly miss.
His time has come, when God called
And chose him for that angel’s kiss.

It’s not goodbye, just fare thee well
In Heaven we’ll all meet again;
Death in life is not the end
Tis’ but a detour from the pain...

The scope of life, unjustified
And one feels cheated at a friend’s passing;
Was it not just yesterday
When he smiled and was laughing?

It’s all the harder for us to accept
That God could do this to them all
And take the life of one so young,
Whose life was over by that call.

 Oh we will miss that friendly face.
We’ll missed that wicked smile of his;
Is God so lonely and Heaven so empty
To take Matthew for his angel’s kiss?

©tcmoon 2011 (1995)

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Winter Falls 

Poem First Published  “Winter Words”  Anchor Books  Apr 1996

So too my life
As Autumn leaves fall;
So withered the trees
That tremble, as Winter
Draws, ever near...

My days are numbered as
Seasons of the Earth;
As leaves left on trees
Awaiting death to befall –
Here go I;

As Winter dost throw
It’s musty cloth of abandonment
Down, around the
Throat of life,
It’s claw palms of Summer;

Tightening the grip that
Shall be forever more
And hereafter the
Deterioration of life...

...as Winter falls...

©tcmoon 2011 (1995)

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Who Is My Boss?

Poem First Published  “Poets At Work”  Poetry Now  Apr 1996

I don’t really have a boss,
Not one like most of yours;
no-one to tell what to do
Unless you count ‘er indoors!

“I am my own man” so I tell myself
And dole out the punishment the same;
When I’m wrong, I take myself off
And inflict masochistic pain!

Oh yes! It’s so great to be the boss,
I can take breaks whenever I like;
Awarding myself pay rises and bonuses.
Blimey! If I must I can go on strike...

And no-one with an injunction to stop me
Cos’ whatever I do’s down to me;
No need for negotiation. Nor ACAS,
Excuse me for  a mo while I go for a pee...

...and no-one can tell me not to,
There ain’t no gaffer above;
My limited company is in unison
With the work force that is I alone.

Who needs a boss with qualifications
And who thinks they know better’n me;
I’m in charge of my sanity, it’s my pen
And it’s me wot’s writing this poetry...

...however, I would like to say this to the chief,
He’s a bit awesome and fills me with dreads,
“could you please take this evening in lieu of my words
So I can join the wife who is in our bed!”

©tcmoon 2011 (1995)

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No Problem

Poem First Published  “Gripes And Grumbles”  Poetry Now  Apr 1996

I don’t have a problem with the world.
I don’t care if my toast is curled
And burnt when I get up in the morning
And as the song goes, “the day is dawning”
And the cock crows, yeah! That makes me mad
Cos’ it walks me but, I ain’t sad
When I wake even tho’ it’s half past ten,
I don’t worry what people say cos’ when
I get up it’s because what I want to do
And I’m afraid it’s got sod all to do with you...

...but, I don’t have a problem with the people of today
Who live mundane lives in their own little way;
Some work all night, then by day, go to sleep
Earning dollars for a family to keep;
But it’s hard work with the prices, the inflation rate
Keeps going up, more money for the Tate.
And the opera; and the other things not seen by the poor,
Brings to mind, the adage of, they live by another law
For them it’s another world, a rotating kaleidoscope
Of colours and riches, still forgiven by the Pope;
Oh no! I don’t have a problem, well, not one with you
Except for the oceans I knew once were blue,
Of green or grey or even black with the pollution of Man,
So, it is up to us to do whatever we can
To save the Whale and the Dolphin, all the creatures of the sea
Whose very existence could mean survival to you or to me;

So where’s the problem? So Man’s destroying himself
Ignoring or eating the Earth’s resources only for personal wealth!
There’s no problem here tho’ Man tries to
hide,But how can one escape the self-inflicted genocide?

No, it is not me with the problem...

©tcmoon 2011 (1995)