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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
May 2017
Character assassination
Fiddlesticks
it's Monday,
but why cry over
spilt weekends?
what goes around
tends to be circular
I don't find that peculiar
at all.
It's always the beginnings
that bother me
always the worry
that I will not be
good enough.
and the gaps are only there
as traps for the unwary
they still scare me though
even though I know about
them.
It's Monday then for
Monday men
and who is first to
stand in line
this time?
This tube train's packed
and
not all it's cracked up to be
that bothers me
too.
who would think that the start
could stink?
Monday obviously and
that bothers me.
Not even six fifteen and
I'm in the dream
can't concentrate
anymore,
too many doorways
and only one airway
no way to
escape.
I believe then and breathe then
to become like the
Monday men.
sadly
there's no other
choice.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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