platitudes, ah platitudes. . .
paucity of penury

when not enough
is too much

non-existent forgiveness
lines road to somewhere

all signs point
to

pot of gold --
more than wrong

clandestine advertiser's slick
fleece fools

waiting in line for it
anticipation is killing them

hyperbole notwithstanding
they wait and wait.

"NOT A DAY, OR WAS IT?" Margaret Ann Waddicor. November 15th 2010.

Today is not a day, its grey
no highlights wake my mind,,
the snowflakes one or two,
float by the window frame,

and all is quiet and colourless,
as white the grass is hidden,
the trees breath slowly,
their messages from heaven,
the weather tells them what to do,
to be and see and state,

I shall go quietly
albeit with my chains
released into the ethers
without pleasure, without gain.

Dissociative dimness
dumbs down the mind
Indifference is Nature's way
of release, from the unkind.

No love for love
given freely over time
No pity for this fool
who's passion proved the only crime.

BB 19 November, '10

Amid the canyons made of steel
a world completely without green
where nature has been brought to heel
still, subtle beauty can be seen

Just prior to morning's sunrise
only sound is distant diesel's rumble
in quickly lightening predawn skies
you can watch white contrails crumble

Tall towers' glasses now reveal
the first lances of the morning light
lending a sharp crystalline feel
to an otherwise stark, sterile sight