To be – or – not to be

To be or not to be

I want to be an astronaut
fly out into space
Visit all the planets
Our universe to trace.

Earths problems compounded
Polluted – on the edge
Despite all the promises
Politicians always pledge.

Our children’s aspirations
That they shall one day see
A world without pollution
Alas may never be.

Jpoet7 ( )

Those cuddly paws

Cats- sheets – cuddly paws

I saw a cat upon my bed
on my sheets it’s hairs all shed
It purred so sweetly in my ear
Until its-sparkling claws appeared.

Luckily my eyes had closed
It only scratched my forehead, nose
Then onto my pillow lay
It’s demise now just a whisker away.

The time had come for it to go
Schemes in my head began to grow
I look again my heart thaws
How could I hurt those cuddly paws.

Jpoet7 ( )

Dublin in the rare old times

Dublin in the rare old times

We build hotels, cycleways
Bury lives of bygone days
Display our narrow arrogance
An ancient city to enhance.

knocking down our heritage
Brass plaques on a river bridge
From Merchants Arch to Cobblestone
A blasphemy we can’t condone.

A playground for the upper class
To me it’s just a little crass
Lacking foresight, culture, taste
Catastrophe by undue haste.

Jpoet7 ( )

Different views

Different views.

She saw a light up in the sky
A shooting star passing by
made a wish a silent prayer
Blew it out upon the air.

He on the other hand
Could not really understand
The reason for this fantasy
So distant from reality.

In life we all have different views
mundane to some to others news
our world would be a better place if love could be our one embrace.

Jpoet7 ( )

When did I last put pen to paper

When did I last put pen to paper

I used to love that exercise
you reading it I’d Visualise
see the smile upon your face
as it dropped through the door.

you’d reply so handsomely
in lines, that perfect stroke
Love oozing from the letters
An image to evoke.

I found them tied up neatly
With a pretty ribboned bow
Filled with constant memories
of the you I used to know.

Jpoet7 ( )

A tapestry of lace now shrouds
beneath a canopy of clouds
amidst loud laughter futures made
a place where children played.

A half door swinging in the breeze
raucous rooks in trembling trees
await the labourers return
potatoes, cabbage, butter churn.

No motor cars no patios
fancy clothes or panty hose
happiness was all around
people’s feet firm on the ground.

Jpoet7 ( )