Melancholy wintertime thoughts

Its cold outside and the fire
Crackles in the hearth, sends forth
Merry sparks to conceal you from
the dark.
You will not let the fire dim,
Because you know they will come in
All the wonderers in the dark.
All the dancers in the dark all the lonely
And the old, those from before who are
Here searching through the dark.
The peikko and the shamleg the journo and the ancient one
who slides on his belly, seek refuge in the dark.
The beast with many horns and he who
sleeps the day seek refuge in the dark.

So draw near to your little fire, throw on
A log or two. Think not of the beasts of winter and
they wont care for you

poem by Tom Gibo
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Little inconsistencies and non-rhymes

This urban hell, This ode to life
A burning well is but strife
A sulphurous ditch with inner daemons

This plan of hope This bird of song
A hangman's rope very much gone
Has but one hitch struggles to understand the laymen

A man of song The lament of a tramp
Who breathes no longer into his beer can
Thinks life's so kitsch he one lived by dreymen

The death of one A creature in a field
But from a gun sees life get peeled
Is all stolen fun back to where it began to reveal

To see and to think The truth of youth
Is to reach the brink is the murmur of insanity
Of mortal understanding to older men
Or so I think. Or so I think.

poem by Tom Gibo
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