The mission clock
It keeps turning
The fires smoke
Each stack burning
The ruins nearby
A stark reminder
Of busier times
When life was kinder.
The old man who
Struggles to walk
Rubber tipped frame
Lop sided talk
To people who
Are not there
Cursing each
A laboured stare.
Children with chalk
Hop scotch away
Delightful giggles
Fill the air
School time gone
Till another day
Now is the time
To simply play.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: April 16th, 2026 02:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments3
I know it - that bus took so long to arrive that you had time for a game of hopscotch - or ten! lol.
thats what I thought bloody buses lol
Which bus will you try to catch today? And how does one 'catch' a bus? Did ya try to literally catch one and got mowed down by it?! lol.
never stand in front of one or behind or sideways to one lol
lol. Yes, in dark humour, a guy was gonna throw himself under a bus and end it all. But you guessed it. The bus never turned up! lol.
lol
I love the balance from old age to young children in this poem and the difference between the two. It is wise but playful it is forgetful but mindful, it is lonely but social
spot on, thanks for reading much appreciated
Most welcome
I love this musicality bursting with energy !
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.