“Sligo libraries face closure due to council staff cuts”
A recent headline sparked the following short poem
The day they closed the library in

Sligo town.
They’re going to close the library in our town

Replace it with a burger joint, I frown

No money to pay the librarian they say.

Why not use your pension in a better way.
The children will have less to educate

But you have struck yourself a better rate

Be careful how you you hike the income tax

Your glass ceiling may end up with many cracks. 
©j.black

     A country meadow
White clouds rolling o’er the countryside 

In the hedgerows songbirds do abide

Grassy meadows bound by evergreen 

Painted beauty of a rural scene.
Wildflowers amid lush grasses grow

In gentle breezes flutter to and fro

A home for insects, bees and butterflies

Uncut haven where nature can survive.
On the headland chestnut trees stand tall

Shelter for the livestock lest rainfall 

Time will soon be here to mow and reap

Hay and fodder for the winter keep.
Now alas such sights are seldom seen

Concrete walls replace the verdant green 

Farming in the past was countrywide

For natures sake let not tradition slide.
©j.black

          

          Oh, to the school of nature go

          Ripen, mature put on a show

          Negativity it would drain

          Root out the rot within your brain.
          Brighten like the clear blue sky

          Bloom, like cocoon to butterfly

          Like winter turning into spring

          Beaming smiles, songbirds sing.
          Ignore the weather closing in

          Icebergs melting, mankind sin

          No more colours sunlight shine

          Conservation, bottom line.
            ©j.black (wordverse.me)

                  @jphoto7

 

Looking through rose tinted 

Glasses.
Beneath Dublin city’s chimney stacks 

Lie cobblestones and old tram tracks 

The rag and bone man calling out

Children playing, scream and shout.
The milkman on his daily rounds

Tinkling glass the bottle’s sound

Robin with his beak did press

On silver cap the cream to get.
At Christmas we’d gather there

Under the tree the presents share

Parcels wrapped for everyone

Forget your troubles have some fun.
In those days a little mattered

Dolly prams, fire engines scattered

Christmas Day a real occasion

Before the technical invasion.
Off to mass, brand new clothes

Woolly socks no naked toes

All wrapped up against the cold

Snowball fighting, young and old.
How innocent were we back then

No gadgets to confuse our brain

No insolence or talking back

A wooden spoon with you would smack.
Things are all different now

Children’s lives have changed somehow

No interest in the wind up toy

Lost I think that simple joy.
©j.black (wordverse.me)

                @jphoto7

Through the alleyway of life I wander

Dwelling deep within the shadows.             

                                                                     

Lost, desolate, depressed, I ponder.            

                                                                       

Tears tearing through the darkness 
That lies within my troubled soul.

Alone, lonely, out of control.
A voice screams within my head

Unable to scramble what is said
People pass anonymous unnoticed 

Unaware of my existence
In the alleyway of life.

Jpoet7

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