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Carol Smith May 2017

I said, "shall we go out today"?
Ben said, “where to”?
I know I said, “let’s visit the zoo”.

We went by bus.
And then walked through the gate.
As if on a date.

We saw the monkey’s first, and then birds on their perch.
The penguins and the seals were having fun.
And the elephant ate his bun.

There were some very tall animals.
And some very small creatures.
And people I think who were teachers?

When we got home they asked, “where have you been”?
I said, “family we have seen”.
“Ben saw a wolf, and I saw a lion”.

Oh! our master said.
“That’s why you have been a while”.
“Did you see a crocodile”?
Carol Smith May 2017
The bell rings as I open the door.
Red carpet covers the floor,
Mr Jones smiles, and sits in his nook
So many books
Do not know where to look.
Sections for writers and poets.
Shelves full of biographies and quotes.
Paper or hard backs, what a choice.
Writers like Tolkien and James Joyce.
Fact or fiction, epics and short stories.
Dragons and fairies, and books from the forties.
Mr Jones takes my money, and passes me my book.
Now rushing home to have a look.
Comfy chair, and a hot chocolate.
Ready to delve into the world of the Hobbit.
Carol Smith May 2017
The quill was poised to write.
Like a cobra ready to strike.
Ink on the vellum.
Thick like venom.

The pen held steady, to write words that are adored.
Words that pierce like a sword.
The ink does not fade.
Like blood on the blade.

Now we have a word processor.
With its own spell checker.
But nothing beats the paper and pen.
Like the cobra and sword, leaving marks now and again.
Carol Smith May 2017
Standing at the edge of the beach
Seagulls crying, waves singing
Toes sinking into warm sand
Your footsteps leading away from me, leaving imprints

Standing at the edge of the forest
Wind whistling through the branches
Feet covered in damp cold leaves
Your footsteps leaving, kicking leaves and breaking branches

Standing at the edge of my path
Sad songs coming through the door
Feet covered in those old comfort slippers
Your footsteps leading away from the path and my heart

And me now....

Standing and watching you walk away
Left with memories, songs and heartbreak
Carol Smith Apr 2017
I look out again and there he is
Is he waiting for that kiss
He has grown so tall
and not bare at all

Limbs covered in colour purple browns and reds
I watch him from my bed
The sun explodes through the leaves
The moss grows like sleeves

The robin sits there so proud
And the blue **** sing so loud
He provides shelter and food for those birds
While the cat looks up and purred

I watch amazed of how he has changed
From winter to spring, limbs and leaves arranged
I still want him for my beau
Perhaps one day... " you never know"
Carol Smith Apr 2017
Are lovers poets?
Or
Poets, lovers

Are Drunks poets?
Or
Poets, drunk.

We are lovers and poets,
And I will drink with you soon.

There lays my epitaph.

Drunk, lover, and poet.
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