After 63 years
of living hard and
hard work at living,
I do know, quite clearly,
that I don't know
much.

~mce

The funeral was well attended
Nobody came
It was sad in a way
Clashed with the dog passing away
There was a friend with a leg
When I say a leg
I actually mean two
Though he had the flu
The Priest nearly made it
But he passed too
The butcher discussed it with the baker
In the newsagents where the notice was placed
Was it his wife who put it in
Well yes, to begin
Then a black guy called Fred
Placed another, hopefully dead
Followed by Titch
Who looked quite rich
But was really his *****
Not to detract from Simon
Frowned the butcher, calling him pieman
Though, that was simplistic
The florist  cried foul
She had the contract
But just for a while
It was left to the undertaker
Wade
Who had to subcontract
When thieves stole his *****
Joe from the pub
With the maths degree
Discussed the angles
Buried under a tree
Bernadette, at the bookmakers
Had to agree
Rushing off to mass
Father Joe listened with glee
It was a trying day in the village of Dull
The pub was in mourning
There was a definite lull
But one thing was agreed
As they slowly got ******
Rover the dog
Would surely be missed?

Not such a bad place,
although it can take
many lifetimes
to get the hang of it.
  ~mce

Sit down on your pillow.
Cross your legs, close your eyes
and breathe.

Nothing mystical here;
only practice.

In your own good time,
things begin to fall away.

Needless worries, anxieties,
agitation, even poetry
slowly dissipate
until there is just you sitting

and finally there is no you;

there is just sitting.
   ~mce

Sunlight slants
on pale pink
cherry blossoms;

for exactly an instant,

I really See.

~mce

She wore blue tights on the Monday
Tuesday it was green
Bright orange on the Wednesday
Thursday it was cream
I predicted black for the Friday
She wore trousers
Hate that girl.