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Olivia Kent Dec 2017
Post person or whatever.
Always turning up.
Regardless of the weather
I feel for the postie upon this chilly day.
Relied upon to bring with him, all Christmas in his sack.
Bringing bills and festive notes from Southampton to John'O'Groats.
No suprise from Santa Claus.
Just a chilly postman going to the doors.
Through rain and snow the postman goes.
Trotting with his smile intact.
Waiting for Christmas to come around again.
His mailbag always laden, that's a fact for sure.
I wonder when the day of e-cards supercede.
The postman may redundant, not coming to my door!
Thank you post person,
You do a vital job.
Olivia Kent Nov 2017
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.
Olivia Kent Nov 2017
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.
An encore,
And another.
Olivia Kent Jul 2017
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.

Olivia Kent Jul 2017
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.

Olivia Kent Jul 2017
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.........!
Grandson released a helium balloon!
Olivia Kent Jul 2017
Had an adder in my garden,
His name was Abacus,
A simple snake was he.
He never ever dared to bite,
And his sums were always right.
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