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Mike Adam Oct 2022
Tiny orbs deflect
Awareness
Of Pure Light.

Telling nothing of their interior

And so Ignorance grows alongside
Knowledge
Of the Show
Sometimes hidden in the dark
Grow to the light and bloom
Flower in God’s garden.
We all are.


Shell ✨🐚
  Oct 2022 Mike Adam
Blue Butterflies
A cup of tea, a lullaby
A winter day spent outside.
A warm jumper with frayed edges,
A book bound in leather
With yellow pages.
A love letter and a hand-written message.
Coming home late
For soup and pie,
Outside the full moon
Is watching over us.
Little snowflakes cover the land,
The bare trees sing lullabies.
The barn owl, the snow hare,
They stay cosy in their beds, and
The little birds hide in their nests.
As we go home,
The wind blows,
But we worry not,
We know,
Soon spring will come along.
  Oct 2022 Mike Adam
Unpolished Ink
Water on my mind
Sometimes murky sometimes clear
A pool of thought fish
  Oct 2022 Mike Adam
Blue Butterflies
I have loved you for so long,
October.
I have have heard your
Love song days
And I have seen
Your colours march through
The bright green of summer days,
Unnoticed.
I have learnt to love your authority,
Your soft spoken command,
And I follow because
I love you
Despite the melancholy
You bring with you.

Because I love you,
I love you,
October.
I love you with your tangled branches and barn owls,
With your cold trunks and fallen leaves,
With your empty nests and snow hares,
With your blackberries and marigolds,

I love you.

October
                October
                               ­  October
  Oct 2022 Mike Adam
William J Donovan
The old poet poses with his worn out lines.
    He's near 80 and written everything that matters.
    Loves, lost loves, betrayals, redemption, children
    recovered from his own disasters. Lines repeated
    they're frayed of their own weight, Autumn's dust.
    Stay with me and view me in Winters graveyard.
    I'm an old poet with a young man's heart pleading
    for an honest appraisal of my balance sheet.
Mike Adam Oct 2022
1
Traveller

The Traveller Travelleth
Becauth he hath no home

2
Who

Name: Date of Birth:

The first two Hooks
Into innocent Flesh.

If, instead

Unborn

Only Hanging by a tightening Cord
From Womb

Poet forms Itself
Through new
Invented Name
New Birth Rite

30 years of Solitude

And a borrowed Fedora
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