No More Than A Coward

That very word bully can bring on such fear,
They are so unruly their cruelty can sear,
Their sole aim in life is to be the bearer,
Of terrible strife they love to cause terror.

They can be scary to those victims they choose,
But they're always wary about who they abuse,
They pick on the lonely and pounce on the meek,
Their intention is only to terrorise the weak.

It is only fun is their sickening excuse,
They'll use any reason to dish out abuse,
Their personal involvement they always deny,
If truth be told their whole life is a lie.

It's not gender based it's both female and male,
In evil they're encased for they pick on the frail,
Their age is no barrier they're both young and old,
Of disease they're the carrier their actions are cold.

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poem by Bri Mar
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I've Been Condemned To Hell

Twenty three outings and he's still alive,
What's the secret that makes him thrive?
How the hell does he survive?
Only he can tell.

Bombs and bullets and falls from the sky,
Still they cannot make him die,
Death to him does not apply,
In survival he does excel.

All his enemies throughout the world,
Have ended up with their knickers curled,
Their respective plots he has unfurled,
Doesn't this man do well?

Poisoned drinks and crashes galore,
Laser beams which cut to the core,
His will to live is to the fore,
What's next we can't foretell.

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poem by Bri Mar
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Not The Perpetrators Of The Crime

I caught a burglar in my home,
He was armed with a knife,
When I asked him why he just replied,
You'd better not give me strife

I told him I would call the police,
If he refused to leave,
He looked at me then laughed and said,
What will that achieve.

He said he'd claim it was all my fault,
For trying to get him nabbed,
Because I'd threatened him with arrest,
That would justify me being stabbed.

At that I drew my firearm,
I warned him I would shoot,
He just stood there laughing,
He didn't give a hoot.

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poem by Bri Mar
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On His Fate You Must Now Dwell

Twenty three outings and he's still alive,
What's the secret that makes him thrive?
How the hell does he survive?
Only he can tell.

Bombs and bullets and falls from the sky,
Still they cannot make him die,
Death to him does not apply,
In survival he does excel.

All his enemies throughout the world,
Have ended up with their knickers curled,
Their respective plots he has unfurled,
Doesn't this man do well?

Poisoned drinks and crashes galore,
Laser beams which cut to the core,
His will to live is to the fore,
What's next we can't foretell.

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poem by Bri Mar
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There's Just As Much Life In A Salad

Veggies and Vegans say it's not cool,
They claim it's a murderous act,
If you eat any meat you must be a fool,
Is that nonsense or is it a fact.

Animals kill others that is true,
They must if they're to survive,
Humans eat meat like they do,
It's one method of staying alive.

Others eat grass, vegetables or hay,
True life forms every one,
We all need a feed from day to day,
When all is said and done.

That is life it's natures way,
Till vegans and veggies came along
These people feel the need to say,
That what we're doing is wrong.

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poem by Bri Mar
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Death Is Not Goodbye, It Is Just Farewell

I've reached that point where I now know,
My life here is over it's my time to go,
By the principles of honesty I've tried to adhere,
Perhaps that's why I do not feel fear.

When I leave this life my journey will start,
So I don't feel down now it's time to depart,
I'll be heading for the joys of eternal life,
No more pain or the feelings of strife.

I'll feel sadness for those I will leave behind,
But we'll never be far from each others mind,
I'll be watching over them from up above,
that way I can shower them all with my love.

I'll leave them with memories they'll never forget,
By focusing on them there will be no regret,
Life will go on but they will be aware,
They will feel my presence they'll know I am there.

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poem by Bri Mar
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I Lost My Mobile Phone

I've awoken in a terrible state,
I think I'm going to die,
My life is almost over,
As I breathe my one last sigh.

I'm really hurting deep inside
That's why I find it odd,
If one can suffer in this way,
There can't possibly be a God.

It happened as I was driving,
I ran into a pole,
I'd just completely lost the plot,
This is going to take it's toll.

How could my fellow human beings?
Treat me with such disdain,
How can they stand there laughing?
When they know I'm in so much pain.

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poem by Bri Mar
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Music Is Our Special Reserve

Think of a song without any tune,
It's like a forest without any birds,
Think of our Earth without the Moon,
Or a poem without any words.

We all know a song we love to hate,
Yet when heard it can still make us sing,
That's the power of music we just cannot wait,
To feel the joy those lyrics can bring.

We all have classics which forever remain,
As a memory which we'll never forget,
Is it lyrics or melody, the happiness or pain,
It can be joy or perhaps even regret.

The written word can and will cause you grief,
You will find some can also unnerve,
On the other hand song can bring such relief,
‘' Music Is Our Special Reserve ''

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poem by Bri Mar
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Being A Politician Can't Be Beat

What does it take to be a politician?
Well your demeanour has to be cheesy,
Then you must make it your life's mission,
To be a cretin who is dishonest and sleazy.

Pretend to your constituents you really care,
Then put on an, ‘' I'm genuine ‘' façade,
Make it your duty to make voters aware,
When speaking for them you will not be afraid.

Any promises you make must always be kept,
At least make it look that way,
Any problems, under the carpet they're swept,
Make your constituents think they have a say.

No conscience allowed when you fail to deliver,
That's one you get used to quite quick,
Drink in subsidised bars while destroying your liver,
Then blame the electorate for making you sick.

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poem by Bri Mar
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Soon It's Yourself You Will Hate

Never be afraid to say sorry,
Though it's only a five letter word,
Not to admit it when you're in the wrong,
Can only be classed as absurd.

Doing so can bring all of you so much relief,
In being sorry there's joy to be found,
Not to can lead you to serious grief,
When you discover they're no longer around.

Make sure you look before you leap,
The secret's to admit when you're wrong,
Refusing to acknowledge this will just cause affray,
Saying sorry shows others you're strong.

An apology can make you feel better,
You will soon be back on your feet,
The one whose been wronged will be happy,
You'll be working from a clean sheet.

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poem by Bri Mar
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