Hidden Dreams
It's awesome
The summer brings perpetual light.
The birds are around all the time
singing their pretty tunes.
All summer through the flowers bloom.
The garden veggies grow huge.
In winter, when it's dark,
there are the Northern Lights
dancing across the sky
in a rainbow of colour;
our sweet delights.
The snow cover is beautiful.
You can relax and enjoy its peacefulness.
The dark of winter doesn't bother me at all
nor does the daylight of summer.
Alaska! Hidden dreams.
poem by Ruth Walters
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A Naked Ape!
Imagine if a Llama wore pajamas
or a Leopard put a cap upon his head.
Just think about a kangaroo in trousers
or a sheep all shorn in little skirt and vest.
Most animals would look a tad alarming
in any sort of formal wear or cloth,
but take a human being wearing nothing
now that would be quite shocking at the shops.
Imagine you or I, all bare and naked,
no underwear, no trousers and no socks.
Our faces would turn pink to think about it
but a monkey really couldn't give a toss.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Free speech has been cancelled
Hush, my friends, don't say a word,
freedom of speech has been silenced.
Keep it quiet, and under your hat,
leave your words in the bag and all that.
Be thankful they don't yet read minds,
for your thoughts are still free, as are mine.
Not yet will they get us, not yet, not yet
will they stab at our poor troubled heads.
Right now and right here on the page,
don't get rabid or into a rage,
it will do you no good, you'll be misunderstood
and in seconds you'll end up inside.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Nobody ever.....
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his eyes were misty.
He learnt about sex from Cindy,
but nobody ever, no, nobody ever,
taught him how to love.
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his pockets were full.
He drank, he smoked, he learned to use a gun
but they never, no, nobody ever
taught him how to have fun.
In his youth, his callow empty youth
his wits were sharp.
He learnt to duck and dive and to deceive
but they never, no, nobody ever
taught him what it is to really live.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Indecent proposal
Come live with me
and be my love?
What does this mean,
how rare?
I am no chattel
for to keep,
Could I, in fact
be spared?
Come live with me,
and be my love,
two turtle doves
indeed!
How dare he ask,
how dare he try
to make a wife
of me.
[...] Read more
poem by Ruth Walters
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A thought
She's never quite given her heart
to anyone but a few
and anyone but a few
have ne'er give their hearts too.
She's never quite given her trust
to more than a handful, I'd say
but more than a handful, for shame
never trusted her, she'd proclaim.
She's never quite figured out why,
or her reason or her gain
that she's given all her loyalty
while others, stray that way.
So this be ever so candid
and this be ever so short
for she cannot be arsed to explain it
or figure out why she ought.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Being oh so dead.....
Since I died it's been fun
sitting on a moonbeam
watching the old earth spin,
feeling like a new pin,
dangling my legs down
listening to strange sounds
angels in the red lounge
whispering their swan songs
wanting me to hum too
learning all the same tunes
plucking at the harp strings
flying on my new wings
way up in the big sky
maybe I'll go higher,
frolic with the seraphim's
looking down on earthlings
never feeling hungry,
never feeling lonely
good and warm and cosy
but oh, so dead.
poem by Ruth Walters
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A little Mills & Boon
Snatched moments,
a darkened doorway,
honeyed kisses,
a fervent caress
What is love,
all feverish and sweaty.
A warm hand
on a pert breast.
Bright eyes,
glistening like pearls
hot passions
and lustfulness.
Come to me,
come to me,
night hides
our love nest.
[...] Read more
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Greys
It isn't the black and white of it that tells you,
illuminates the picture,
gives it depth.
It's the greys,
Those murky shadows display the truth.
and when you want to learn the truth,
the meaning to the shallow tale,
look behind the door.
It isn't the straight forward facts
that illustrate the how or why or pain
or what goes on.
It's the greys
and unless you've been cocooned, you'll see,
it isn't smug, self righteous, good
that teaches us to empathise,
we learn by our mistakes.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Good Practice
Apron, Shuttlecock and Feather
a group practice in Cheddar
whose aim was to make your teeth feel much better.
Apron was always the popular one,
she'd wear short white skirts
that showed off her bum.
Shuttlecocks wit made his patients all chuckle,
they'd giggle and wriggle,
hiccup and splutter.
Feather was wacky, he smoked old tobacci,
with hands like two planks
and a wild mustache.
He'd not numb you up, but a whiff of his puff
would make you lie back
and not give a - - - - toss.
poem by Ruth Walters
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