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Like a mouse in a maze that has no openings
I scurry around this way and that.
Only bumping into walls and dead ends.
I run til I’m completely exhausted
But I never come across an exit
And just to make it so much worse
I also never find a crumb of cheese.
            ljm
Life just never seems to get better.
.
Saturday night will make you smile
just reach out and turn that dial.
Honk on bobo and pick that guitar,
you know exactly where you are.
You are getting some Blues Power
to take you to the midnight hour.
But wait! Here comes the crunch -
its also available for Sunday Lunch.

Pagan Paul (21/06/23)
Poem written for Blues Power programme presented by Bernard Docherty on Planet Rock radio.
PlanetRock.com
Bobo = Harmonica
Curiosity perhaps killed many a cat
For a cat it is an inquisitive brat

It could rummage through anything even your ******* trash
Tabby may spring on dinner table and cutlery may crash

Famous might be a cat for those famed nine lives
but not much help is that if in every danger it dives!

Its feline curiosity to crash-land it in trouble
for it tends to explore every kind of rubble.

The catty **** likes a fight and a wild-goose-chase.
Forever looking forward to amuse and amaze?

In a cat basket he's likely to be struck with ennui
Perhaps his caretaker thought only of his fengshui?

His meowing and hissing resonates in the valley
as he tussles with many rival cats in the alley

Mr. Tom cat thinks most females are saucy
but with them he acts in a way quite bossy

Wild and rough, with macho feral pride
I watch you tease and taunt in your typical stride.

No way is he kitty soft paws
Mr. Tomcat sure has the sharpest claws.

Tomcat ate the fishy leftover pudding & fish pie
and kissed the feline females and made them cry.

But my fav is my own cutie darling so soft
even if she may raid the larder and loft that's aloft .

©
A fun poem over the hols inspired by cats I have and watched
~
Dead ahead
The target is always
On a similar horizon
It's about surviving
Every blasted thought
More than eliminating all threats
When they strike
They form castellated holes
That network new fears
To long existing trauma
Careening off the deep seams of life
In intervals of jagged breath
I become part of the debris
A genuine tourist attraction
The size of a crater
Even after nothing else
Remains of my former self

~
Stand you on the cliff of uncertainty
all that is behind is done, what is there to come but air
let courage give you wings, to lift you up from dark despair
for nought is worse than standing still
and wondering on that bare accursed hill
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