Shapes,
drifting leaves?

who believes in the powers
of magic?
I trick my way in
stir the ***
they begin
to chant.

I am
or so it is said
halfway between life
the other half
owned by my beautiful wife
it leads as it will and
I have my fill until
my fortune is set
among stars that are
yet
to be born.

It was too late
to realize this:
all along her boat
was circling
the island of
expectations.
She cuts the knot
at one stroke
and feels free
from the albatross
around her neck
at long last;
her boat like a
unbound horse
gallops into unknown
currents, in love with
deeper sea secrets...

A pulse is
something you can put your finger on,
but an impulse is something you go on,
an idea that takes you from here,

I was there once on the off chance
that here was a chance
but in the end there was
no chance,

I take no risks,
my finger's always
on the trigger,
safety off.

We have to be and play safe
this is no place for kitty cats
or scaredy cats
that's as plain as day.

Some breathe fear and
some breathe fire
I do neither,
ice folds itself in and
my skin is **** frost

nor am I lost or found
and
the only sound
is you telling me
another
crossword clue

the answer is in five letters

counting down from now
finger
trigger
some things are bigger
than
the moment.

Where's a silent night?
I might
go there for my
Holiday
hopefully on
Christmas day,
but
not in the morning.

I had this poem
I'd been working on
All about forgetfulness

Then made the mistake
Of setting it down one day
Now I've no idea where it is

I've looked out, I've looked in
All the places that I'd been
On this endless search to find

I've looked high, I've looked low
Places I frequently would go
In the hopes of jarring this simple mind

Because this poem if it's found
Might just turn my thoughts around
Though I can't remember why that is

So in this quest I'll continue on
In the search of the poem
That I wrote about forgetfulness

(20 minute poetry)

it kills me to hear
when the next one
gets near
think
I fear the train more
than the journey

but it carries me along
to the sound of its song
clackety clack down
a narrow gauge track
and my ticket's a single
do
I not want to come back?

I used to be monarch of all I surveyed,
a hero,

my subjects obeyed me
now
they despise me
conspire to depose me
who knows what the outcome
will be?

the eight forty three
arrives at
platform nine
running six minutes late
due to leaves
on the line.

An opportunity to work
which is more than my worth
and
for more than they pay
I could
do something
different.

A small victory
a young ******* the
tube gave up
her seat to me

I must've looked weary