The Chicken Bank.......Foiled
Dave...The armed robber
Bank robber
Back in sixty-three
Would leave me sleeping muvva
For much skullduggery
Raiding banks petrol stations
And very auften...I swear
He even raided
The new joint
Called............ Mothercare
And wake his giant angel
Who very loudly snored
With booties bonnets mittens
And cardies, she adored
One day they got raided by many old bill
Dave got all panicked
Bout the money he did steal
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Cold Feet and Other Objects.....
Huddled within a blanket
In a camping chair
Thats not quite right
Blinds down to shade the sleeping
Concerned over my failing sight
Gazing with disgust that HE over there
Stole my bloody bed!
Nose dripping with the draught dear
Which dances around my head
Feet as cold a kippers
Swaddled to avoid the floor
Laminates quite nice dear!
But bloody cold slips beneath the door
I'll brave china tiles for a tea dear
Exiting the blankets charm
Goosebumps, goose stepping
Rubbing my chilly arms
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Nancy Manxome Wifle
The Manxome little Minx
Stood beneath illustrious Boa-bob tree
She scratched her left butt cheek
With grazed grass stained knees
Stared pon the ghostly forms gibbering with fear
That Nancy (her name) might manhandle their ears
And drag them petrified, within her Boa-bob bar
Unvisited by good-folk... being so far
Within a dusted deserted dessert dry plane
Exhausted generosity, she was repeating again
On meringue peach dust, must run for their freedom
Avoiding the clutches, of most the dreaded kingdom
Gunshot start! ...
The banshee chase... As spirits in fear race off again
The pursuit was a violent fearfilled reign
Escaping her clutches, unashamed unabashed
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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My Uncomfortable Skin
I observe Rajang,
Enclosed in space,
Rugged Orangutan,
Face to face.
Nonchalantly you inspect,
Stroll towards myself,
We reflect.
Gazing deep, searching souls inner,
Your so beautiful
And me...I'm the sinner.
Inwardly I apologise,
Through embarrassed eyes,
That I am here
Free in.. humane,
Useless thoughts.... in vain.
Audience akin
Your rusted fur
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Upon our Lake
Upon Our Lake
Petroleum translucent wings wave upon a sage green moss
Whilst vibrating webs in fevered mood delight a flies flight loss
Tinkering thoughts they travel over a calming cool breeze break
Smiling eyes, a touch, a breath, do beguile upon a gentle lake
Cotton thoughts on wistful clouds disturb differing hues of blue
Emerald, limes, rusted umbers enhance breezes as they move
A whimsical dash of mottled fish engrossed in lifes harsh fight
To gather all required whilst avoiding, the silent fishers sight
A hand does stroke the waters as thoughtfully as a lovers face
Whilst oars and gentle droplets dance at such a soothing pace
Non returnable ripples travel onwards with no due care
Words, sights, scents, sounds, precious memories that we share
One day we will be but whisps that relished this cherished place
As lovers new will float on by with a fresh renewed embrace
And maybe if they are just like us they will sit and ponder on
Lovers who were once like them but now are sadly gone
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Water Birth.....21
Squirming body pulsating pushing contracting
Doused
Lukewarm water shares space with beads of sweat
Smiles grimace through drips
Eyes dart for courage
For clocks, daylight, trees breathing in the after thoughts of summer
Uniforms smile
Comforting words thrown futile against the wall of regret
'i want to go home! ' is thrown in useless hope
That the pain may lessen
Alleviate
Be passed on to the man she holds responsible in her moment of desperate
Mind loss
Pride is gone
All she wants is to squeeze through the taunt tunnel of Hell
A greedy inhalation of gas
Softens the edges
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Hippy...Love Chips
How beautiful was it?
The park by the beach with one caged panda and bedraggled peacocks...calling and flirting, as nature dictated
Displayed by the sea
Water
Lake
Filled with crabs loitering by the inlet flow
Who waited patiently to secure our sausagemeat on a string
And rose embaressed and wonky
Clutching by one claw
Cross as grandma... on a Monday
Wash day
Scrubbing stains..
How beautiful and memorable was that 1974 summers day
As we bobbed in boats, as our brave, mad ever so handsome hippy father
Stood precariously (against the rules) and splashed our sodden frames with his cruel laughing oar
How gorgeous was mother and fathers glorious young white teeth
Which matched perfectly the beautiful lively tinkering forms of light
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Fridge Love.
Sighs...
The anticipation of beloveds fridge door opens with an oh so sigh-worthy.....
PING! ! ! followed by her own generous....
Sigh
She knows i shall ravish her
She really does not mind
The heart pitter patters as the eyes forage
Bounty hunter.... bessie bunters
Eyes dance as bambi's legs
Through the forest of cheese and things that please
And the odd banana dregs
Then
Chocolate... Coca-cola, all things that
Doth so.... tease
(but im on... yet another diet) so not permitted to eat as i do so please
I hate my skinny family the ones for which i dote
For whom i loving fill said fridge
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Peacock Feathers and Paper Plates....
My wooden dappled rocking horse
Chomping at the bit
Eyes deranged with fearsome fire
Does make my stomach flit
And whilst we race
At perfect pace
Within the purple yonder
No time to sit on laurels dear
Blow dandelions nor ponder
In hot pursuit
And silver soup
Carrots golden tempt refined
Forgetting where from whence they came
(So pitifully mined)
Past burnt glades
And auburn maids
All leaning at the fence
Smiling cheering so enthusiastic
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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Wallaces Warrior
Early mornings crisp cool sun illuminates the enemies Armour
His stallions breaths jars the air with snorts of deep anticipation
Thoughts race between victory, defeat, life and finality of death
Survive,
Thrive
The moment is nigh
Heart beat strong
Mind race fast
Remember everything
Forget nothing
Flags pushed by a forceful wind whip his nerves of excitement
Silence
The warrior scream
The surge is as waves eroding the shore of bounteous green
Thunderous thighs pound beneath quivering forelocks
Cool air exhaled rushes past and is left
Past tense
Breath
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poem by Karen Sinclair
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