Habits

I smack

the same ball

at the same wall.

Numbskull!

My version

of what’s in front

is a blinkered person

marching, drunk.

I’m a disgrace:

today I caught

a grayling fish,

lost my rainbow trout.

Apart from this,

I do exist;

remembering

a little bliss.

When Andrew’s at the karaoke,

eyes are drawn to a young star

that only wise men follow;

microphone and punching arms,

exuberant little fellow.

We look and look – he burns a hole

in boredom - can we learn

beyond our resignation, beer,

to tread the boards and burn?

Haiku

To all poets with

writer’s block – a small piece of

advice;- Don’t you start!