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Mar 3
Don't waste your life barking at the moon,
You're better off home in bed
With someone who loves your body and
Who shines with a light of their own.

This is a temporary madness.

The Werewolves upstairs are howling.

The devil's in the detail, your dinner's in the freezer -
The note said.

Death came to us when we were young, my brother and I,
But changed his mind and took our mother instead.
It was an accident, of course.

Life is... just waiting for the war to be over.
Though in a very real sense, it never is... over.
And when we die we will be, no doubt,
At war somewhere else... for eternity.

It is the strangest thing to see water on a screen.
Water, flowing and liquid, in such a real way.
Beer never looks real... not even for real!

"Destiny, Destiny," she cried, "Where are you going, Destiny."
As a girl child of 4 or so ran into the bar-room laughing, gleefully.

Sunset on The Isle of Scalpay.
Bamburgh Castle and the view across to Lindisfarne.
Dawn light and the Seal on the rocks below Ravenscar.
I have been coasting for some time now...

This winter we had a family wedding and then a funeral in the same week.
We hired the same local bus for the mourners and I asked them
Not to change the ribbons, please.
The Werewolves were vocal about that too, of course.

I have arranged my Pension be paid weekly, on a Thursday,
Like a proper wage.

My brother, Ten Bellies, says he's Pieabetic!
I told him he's having a mid-Wife Crisis.
We were in the bar and Feng Stewy laughed -
He's the guy who arranges the tables on Bingo Night
To keep the Werewolves happy.

'Casu consulto' is a Latin phrase literally translated as "accidentally on purpose."
I have been trying for some time to use it in a poem
But it always looks deliberate.

I have known a thing to be true All my life...
When something is exactly 5 inches long,
It will turn out to be, equally exactly, 1 inch too short.

A man wears a hat to hide something about himself.
A woman wears a hat so that she is not not wearing a hat when all the others are.

The truth about Werewolves is not that they were wolves.

My proposed 4th Law of Poetry is -
For every Poet they are an equal and exactly opposite Poet.
The other three laws don't add nothing much.

I asked my brother how long we had to wait for the pub to open.
He said, an hour and ninety five minutes.
When I asked him, why not two and half hours or so, he said, that seemed like a long time.

I don't spend my time writing poems anymore about getting home before dawn
****** and torn from some false encounter,Β Β some lost cause I set my heart upon.
Seek wisdom not to be wise but for wisdom to see you and to be recognised.

Sorry, got to go... the Werewolves...
Tommy Randell
Written by
Tommy Randell  67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK
(67/M/Whitby, N Yorks, UK)   
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