CYCLISTS
Why do they cycle in the middle of the road,
Or hog the white line,
Go when the lights red
And sometimes stop when they are green,
And steer with their knees
While their hands are doing something obscene?
CYCLING
FRIGHTENING THE CROWS
FRIGHTENING THE CROWS
I once knew a man
Who frightened crows for a living.
In between, he brewed cheap beer
And stole old books.
He cycled the universe
Looking for answers;
All he found was a cold grave
When he was thirty nine.
my new collection of poetry is now available @ http://www.tinhuttalespublishers.co.uk/67/
My Writing Life 