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Tidy Desk Poem
Faint barks, evening, wind, and rain
I'm standing outside these gates again
staring at her long twisted cobbled grey
She'll be pleading and crying for me to stay
Teary-eyed,.. as I start to shake
You see, it's my witching mother
Changing eyes, I remember
Each day a day in mid-November
The whiskey called "screams," and her flaking skin
Unrepentant and filled to the neck with gin
she just sat there laughing at my nervous grin
Those vile remarks and the things she'd say
Throughout the evening of every day
"you must stay with me forever, petals
or I will bloody you with this iron kettle."
I cannot push myself through these damn gates
The fear of the,.. known I suppose
those wretched toenails all overgrown
feet that stink of death
Old graveyard graves crooked amber teeth
My dear mother, it's quite clear I resent you so
Why do I still love you, you wicked old crow?
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2020
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Tidy Desk Poem
The mighty dragons which came
roaring on that fateful night
took great pride in disintegrating
everything in their sight
Nothing was left that was not
scorched by their flame
although to the fire-breathing
dragons it was all but a game
No trees were left standing
and nay grasses retained green
it took three and a half years
for the streets to scrub clean
There was no building that
wasn't burnt to an absolute crisp
The laughing dragons noted down
another wondrous trip
All the churches did indeed receive
three hundred and thirty-three degrees
The poor clergymen were seen praying
whilst fallen down upon their knees
As the puissant dragons kept up their
ferocious attack, some pastors were heard
screaming for the good lord to come back
When the libraries burned down
it was such a terrible loss for the town
as the most intelligent of the peoples
were nowhere to be found
Then all the pubs and neon clubs were ravaged and wrecked
The fire-breathing dragons just said, "We don't give a feck."
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2020
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Tidy Desk Poem
Pulsating rhythm
Fiery beating of drums
Repetitive enchantment
a seducing deep aum
An ancient language
for those who can hear
disestablishing illusion
relinquishing fear
Perception transmutes
in timeless trance
each soul now-imprisoned
within the freedom of dance
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2021
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Tidy Desk Poem
When the emerald eyes of Ireland
were clocks ticking in the sky
my brain was drowning in the sofa
trashing against a tide
Anxiety levels raised like a black
mamba in the grass, her poison set
a timer running to see how long I'd last
As toes started to wiggle the heart
thumped out its beats, memories of
that night's gig were, for certain, incomplete
Eyes had not yet opened to the horror
which lay within until the smell of vomit
found a path from the green waste paper bin
An ashtray filled with worries sat beside a
vase of wilted flowers I removed myself from
the sofa and sank thirteen shots of powers
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2022
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Tidy Desk Poem
Troubled as to what I'll choose
something which will bemuse
the man who has it all
This is not an easy task
it's an even more strenuous ask
that the present he shall receive
will find a smile or joyous laugh
Happens every year, selecting
something that may cheer
Bringing sparkle to his eyes
a genuine smile from ear to ear
In retrospect, this dazzling effect
can be achieved I do believe
by drinking good old fashioned beer
Maybe a quiet meal for two,
for our love is old, old and true
Counting our blessings
that we are still here,
to celebrate this special time of year
Oh, I'm sure we'll have a ball
Together forever
The best present of them all
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2020
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Tidy Desk Poem
The walls open their eyes just as
the mantises begin to weave
a loving celestial vibe, incensing
the onset of this boundless drive
Not questioning if one will retain
sentience, escaping for a time
confinement within her hive
With machine-like serpentines
propelling their mega metallic craft
exerting complex magically carved
oaken ores
opening dimensional gateways
ascending straight-through
intensified vibrational planes
utilising the great wave
unlocking these secret doors
Fantastic crystal-blue eyed
gnomes with iridescent feather
shaped cheekbones perform
a dance, whilst oscillating
their elongated gold spoons
Traces of a nameless ancient face on
innumerable orange-pinkish moons
within vast space, divinely harmonised
eternally ringing out in high tune
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2020
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Tidy Desk Poem
A vicious spell has been cast
into a black cauldron to boil
Trouble and toil attempts to spoil
The snake is beginning to uncoil
He will keep you up late reeling in hate
continually accepting the dangling bate
Post twelve o’clock chime precisely timed
his louring voice will play games
behind the candles flickering flames
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2021
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Tidy Desk Poem
Standing stones or giant bones
The mighty men of great renown
Their spirits dwell where they fell
rock, snow, and ice abound
Returning to walk the earth
from deep within the ground
Do sleeping giant's dream
inside mountains all around
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2020
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Tidy Desk Poem
As one saunters by the bubbling brook
fixated on intricate crannies and nooks
quaint voices encircle, relaying rhyme
in a plethora of rhythms, perfectly timed
Adonis blue butterflies flaunt their wings
messages ensue as four swallows swing
in between worlds, swept into a dream
as one finds a path up the sunlit stream
Kingfishers perched on the bared roots of
a tree skewer some fish for afternoon tea
an otter prepares a fresh banquet of cray
wind rustles the birch to faint calls of a jay
Wrens nesting in the hedgerows nibble on seed
Willow sheds her woe down by the water reeds
Damselflies rest upon a cast of white flowers
as rolling clouds breakout in freshest shower
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2022
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Tidy Desk Poem
"The high elves revel," seer would say
in forests dark till dawns golden array
Weaving a spell through nature's lush green
anointing her yew is their nightly routine
Blessing blue ash within its roots they ground
a plethora of currency, for the king, has been crowned
Endowing hazel with a brown bounty of fruit
then carving from her branches magical flutes
Resting awhile in the strong arms of an oak
clipping some acorns to feed their four-legged folk
Returning to the hawthorn on white horses they prance
withdrawing into the shadows until moon casts her glance
Copyright © Tidy Desk | Year Posted 2022
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