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  Sep 2015 Joe Cole
SG Holter
(Monday morning, on the roof of an Oslo construction site.)

~

Seagull. Filthy peace flag screaming
His own name upon the city.

It is I! Eater of scraps, leaver of
Droppings!

Sword beak, dagger tallons!
Anti-raven! White blood cell of

Your airborne bloodstream.
The skies would be half a chess

Board in my absence!

I sit on the rooftop drinking water,

Listening to him echo between
Tired buildings.

Norwegian city morning.
Sunny and cold.

I watch the red of mist muffled light
On his wings as he soares towards

The bay for his fifth breakfast.
Today will be an interesting day,

I whisper to my soul as I empty the
Bottle and stand up.

A conductor tapping his baton against
His note stand, raising hands and an

Eyebrow to the orchestra.
Get your Monday in tune, and the week

Will follow accordingly.
Seagull. Filthy peace flag.

Declaring himself victorious
With his every forceless breath.

~
Joe Cole Sep 2015
Take a look around you
And tell me what you see
Another day of turmoil
Or a day to set you free

Take a look around you
At what this earth has got to give
At what it has to offer
So that you and I can live

Take a look around you
And decide which path to choose
Only you can make the choice
If you win or if you lose

Take a look around you
At this green and pleasant land
But will it still be here for our kids
When we are not around

Take a look around you
At the destruction man can cause
When he subjects our fair lands
To industrial applause

Take a look around you
And think what you could achieve
If you truly cared for this fair land
If you had the courage to believe

Take a look around you
Let's save what we've got left
Of a land once so full of beauty
**Don't condemn this land to death
Joe Cole Sep 2015
Each week is a brand new written page
Each week a finished chapter
When the year closes
A brand new book

Life's a bit like that
Joe Cole Sep 2015
A shooting star
Flashing across the earth
But shooting stars burn out
As do our wildest dreams
Joe Cole Sep 2015
I am the pen
My ink flows in confusion across the page
Random scribble
Question marks and doubt
Mindless words
Senseless thoughts
But then the words flow
And then the poem grows
Weird
Joe Cole Sep 2015
Gone is the wild unbridled passion of our early years
Hands, lips, bodies in constant embrace
Now, as we grow older yet
We are being overtaken by a deeper love
An early morning caress, the brushing together of lips
The smile in your eyes reflecting the smile in mine
This is real love
When the health of Mollie dog and the cats (our boys)
Are the topic discussed over breakfast
This is the time when we become comfortable
With ourselves and with each other
The time when we can reflect on the good times and the bad
The time to reflect on how lucky we are
To have and to hold, real **love
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