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  Nov 2024 Richard Shepherd
Nick Moore
How many hours
Now spent?
Watching you're
Crocodile tears,
My listening ears
Trying to find
Solutions,
To mind
Pollution's

But the penny has dropped,
It's the drama addiction,
Now
A
Prediction

A
Lesson now learned
Mind clear
Of the
Mires,
There's such things
As
Energy vampires
  Nov 2024 Richard Shepherd
Nick Moore
If all the world's a stage
Then Bill and me
are on the same page


So when treading the boards
step softly
don't go crossing swords


give the best performance
From you're soul,
Lift others from their holes,
Put a smile on their face
If things don't work out
Try changing roles

Make it the best play ever written
Try for a good ending
maybe leave someone smitten

When the curtain comes down
And
It's just you on you're own,
there should be no frown
go to you're backstage bedroom
Sleep tight
Under the full moon,
Awake
As the birds sing,
who knows what the day brings.
she crosses the line
black hair shining
like the raven's wing
alive like a bird in flight

eyes, soft, so complex

like a church's stain glass window

the sky above,
the sea below,

are not as blue.

and her seductive, smiling face,
lips blowing shadows,
courting lovers

a little risk involved,
a little madness necessary.

she'll steal your heart with passion
to set the night on fire,
spread the smoldering ashes across a page

and dance ballet while strumming
your heartstrings.

some jump into the fire,
and some are never free.

that flash of fire, art,
a savage love
as there ever was
burning through the canvass,

but when

she smiles...
  Nov 2024 Richard Shepherd
Nick Moore
Relocated when
I
Was
Eight,
Gran picked me up
Outside
The school gate

This would be the last time,
For a
Long time,
To be present here,
My old school

Somewhere in my mind
It got locked away,
The places
Where we
Used to
Play

Now the years have passed,
Returning to
My old school
At
Last

It looks exactly the same,
Except someone's shrunk it!
My eyes, they shut,
Am I in
Lilliput?

Song- Where Do the Children Play? Cat Stevens.
What the birds overheard

From death to passwords

Migrated to tract housing

Became postage on a slow moving envelope

Somehow ended up as a flag on the moon
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