Fairies feel the winter chill,
The cold does make them ill,
Some fellow being kindly ,gave them spirits of his own.
The fairy folk are staggering,rolling through the trees.
Their noses run incessantly.
Hear them fairies sneeze.
They're making an awful lot of noise.
This bunch of drunken fairies are but ,raucous girls and boys.
They have had a huge amount of fun but the headaches that follow the whiskey,mean they're hiding from the sun.
Lovely little creatures strolled into the shop.
Needed analgesia to make these headaches stop.
The doctor couldn't see them.
He didn't have the time.
The secretary for human health, well he can't treat poorly fairies as he doesn't have the wealth.
Lets hope the fairies settle and get better very soon,
Fairies only party once in a blue moon.
The fields are stained with red, not whine.
The fields cry loudly without harmony.
The air is filled with violence,
Painting the air in shades of blue and black.
Onwards they go, no turning back.
An odd bird, bedraggled by the passing bullets at speed.
Uncertain future awaits.
Blinded by the flashes of the fighting.
Four hundred thousand soldiers slain, were drowned within unholy mud.
Corpses of the now redundant gave their best and got their worst.
Men in boots in July seen.
Images none desire upon the front of magazines.
Their guns were emptied, their lives were spent.
Lived for the moment, only lent.
Brave men all of them young,loyal and true.
Another Belgian battlefield echoed with the failing death.
So sad, boys, nearly men caught their last breath.
Bless the battlefield upon which they fell,relieved of sounds of gunfire, as they left the war raged hell.
Bravery from all sides shown,by young in spirit, never grown.
Guessing with death came freedom, unpleasant release.
My peace is in bits,
My bits are in pieces.
I'm forced,through a colander through dreams what got broke.
I'm choking on a passion which hangs round my neck.
I'm broken and battered,
Life on the whole is doing me in.
I'm fighting a battle
Got not no chance of winning.
There will be no awards for me in this role.
A tumbled disaster I've lost all my goals.
There is monster living under my dress,
My monster is criminal, it's first name is stress.
It affects my being, it affects every function.
Between here and there and then and now.
In my dark space
I'm stuck at the junction.
I so detest it.
Where are you now?
I sit and peer out of the window.
It's getting stormy.
He let go!
Where are you going, my friend?
Are you fighting lightening flashes?
Reverberating to the thunder's beat.
Child, I asked you to hold on to the string tightly.
We stood and watched from the ground as you floated away.
Awesome helium balloon,
Flying wild and free.
I wonder do you have many friends accompanying you as you go dancing through the cloud's cover.
Avoiding beaks of passing birds.
Birds calling out with novel songs.........!
Seeking fortune in the bottom of my tea cup.
From the top lip I sip.
Swillling my brew.
Debating spitting out,
Ooh, I got confused,
Maybe I thought I was wine tasting,
They say Jesus turned water in to wine.
I had tea, so he didn't touch mine.
There were no tea leaves at the base of my cup.
Do you know why that could possibly be?
I drink coffee, rarely tea.
The error of judgement was made me.
Not a tea leaf in sight.