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The traffic cam's on Peter Pan
but he flew on through the red.
and
it was Wendy led me down the path
but
I went willingly.

One day when this has run its course,
the well being dry
I'll take this horse to water.

The lesson taught
taught me well,
well as well as it could do
and the loop runs on
Peter still flies through.

I never know where a poem will go
it's like it has a mind of its own,
a diversion
of emotion until the poem
finds itself a home.

No apology from me and
what you see may be
what you get,

no promises though
although you never know
and I think that may
be the answer.
Mortality's a dying art
once we start
there is an end.

Most tend not to think of death
even when
every breath they take
takes them closer to the
close.

Who knows
things may change
or maybe not

I've got a soft spot for
the doubters
the hand wavers
the shouters,
but
living's still a dying game,

anyone want to play?
Be oh be
he said,
silently
she
listened
With half an ear
and a tear in her eye
I
blew a kiss which
hit the dartboard
scored a double top
It didn't stop

the volume increased
even as the silence
ceased
and I knew
that
it would be.
Day care for the elderly
and that'll do for me
when I get old.

A gypsy once told me
that good luck
would follow me,
it's not caught up yet

and yet the older I get
the less that I fret
about such things
such as
what
luck brings.



I favour fortune as much
as it favours me,
which by the way is
not a lot and lately
I was wondering what
it ever did for me,

the gypsy knows, but
they always do or don't
you
believe in that.
I talk to you
even if I have
nothing to say.

My car sounds
like it’s got food poisoning
but I drive it to your house anyway.

I wear the same dumb boots
because I wore them
the first time I saw your face.

I pile up your laughs
in my pockets so I can pull them out
if the day turns to mud.

I hate the way you’re leaving
because everyone leaves,
but I’ll keep your poem

on repeat,
the words will cool my veins,
rock me to sleep.
Written: October 2016.
Explanation: To mark National Poetry Day on 6th October, I wrote 25 poems over the course of eight days, and sent one poem each to one of 25 of my Facebook friends. After some deliberation, I am now posting the poems on HP (in order of when they were written), albeit not all in one go. 'Firework' is poem one, for those of you who wish to read the series in full, in order. None of the poems are about their recipients. Note: Kat Stratford is a character in the movie '10 Things I Hate About You', played by Julia Stiles. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
(20 minute poetry)


Eight degrees in and
it's freezing
Winter is well on the way,
Summer's a far distant
memory
Thank God it's Friday today.


Some time to prepare for
the onslaught
Don't want to be
caught
in the rain,
think I'll stay at home
as dry as a bone
call work and say
I'm sick again.

Eight degrees in
and I ain't going out
there not much you can
do about
that.


But the foreman says
you're on the rota
you've
got to put in your quota
today
which is not very fair
I want to stay here not
go there

Just need some more time
to prepare.
 Oct 2016 Kyle Kulseth
Ann Beaver
Everything blue. Invisible.

Crashing, collapsing  
Gold swept away


The back again to stay the winter

Weathering stone to sand

Hand-in-hand to spring

*Soaking everything in gold
In blue
Graffed at the Dali museum in Monterey. Italics is my boo Dragon Lily
Does it make you tingle when a lovely young lady says,
hey are you single, do you fancy a night at the flicks?
and after a coffee at her place,
your face says it all.

what would you call it?

a bit of luck that the nip and tuck pulled your paunch in,
thin and lean
you know what I mean

a screen on the green and a salad dish.

Like a fish out of water
I caught a
bus to Hackney
sadly
she was in Putney and
I never saw her at all,

perhaps I will see her in
some cinema feature
at the Odeon cinema
next week.
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