The wealth of so many belongs to the few
A cent or a penny, no difference to you
Don’t let it be said there is nowt we can do

Promises made, promises broken
It’s not what is said, is what is unspoken
Get out the stick because they need a pokin’

Playing with families, playing with lives
Fathers and husbands and mothers and wives
And what of the children, prey they can survive

The scoffers will always continue to scoff
The piggies will always be stuck in the trough
Made a quick buck take the afternoon off

Happy, the leprechaun,
appeared on
St.Patty's morn.
Traipsing to
and hopping fro,
Happy did a jig and sang it
so that all knew
he was celebrating
the saint
that led so many
to the church.
Forsaking his younger
days of enslavement by
pirates in Ireland
Patrick returned to
teach of the Father
and the Son.

And that's good enough for me.
I used to think
that everything depended on me
and what I did
to help others,
and that was all
there was to me.
I used to think
that I was supposed
to find the answers
and the solutions
to all the problems,
but I'm only one person.
I used to believe
that I should acquiesce
to all the circumstances
presented to me,
but now I know better.
So yes,
I don't know exactly
who I am any more.
I've lost a few roles,

A whisper of wind, a sunlit, soft sway,
She moves through the world in her own gentle way.
No gilded cage, no tethered, tight string,
With her, I watch joy on unfettered wing.

Like a bird in the sky, she exists ever free,
A spirit untamed, for all eyes to see.
She dances with shadows, she laughs with the light,
And paints every moment in colors so bright.

For days now, it’s been just me,
This blank page and a blinking cursor—
A quiet space where words hide
And emotions whisper, waiting to be heard.

Inside, a storm of feelings churns,
Locked away, heavy and unseen,
Yearning to spill out in honest lines
Yet not knowing where to begin.

I stare at the empty screen,
Hoping for a spark, a sign,
To break this silence with a single word
And set my restless heart alight.

Am I mental? Or just crazy?
Thought I knew a different day.
Yet I think that my memories,
Got distorted along the way.

Everything appears a little further,
That school looked oh so big.
And in youth I had more rigour.
Now I can barely snap a twig.

Christmas was more special,
Less things to bog us down.
And with more loving kindness,
We wore that gratitude crown.

Don we now our gay apparel
despite knowing lives
(within definition of rainbow person,
where individual considers themselves
within LGBTQIA2S umbrella group)
suddenly prideful freedom of expression
imperils their very existence
during repressive Trumpian regime,
which would forever hashtag me
(not necessarily linkedin as identifying
with aforementioned acronym,
but merely expressing solidarity)
with those whose existence defies categorization
no matter passive and not violent modus operandi,

Through the windows of my soul
I dream a world long dead,
A world of innocence now lost,
Memories trapped inside my head.

I see them now as raindrops fall,
Tears on the pane as twilight creeps.
My mind drifts back to girls I loved,
I see, I smile and gently weep.

As darkness falls on winter’s edge,
Leaves kiss the bough farewell,
My thoughts caress the girls I knew
Strong youth with passion swelled.

Everywhere is a wall of water
Big breakers smash the reef
Sorrow comes like a tidal wave
The seas are heavy with grief
Sadness will come in spurts
All these little pangs of pain
Small shards of hurt
cling to me like limpets.

Again and again the waves return
Crash and engulf the shore
Here I’m stranded like a starfish
Sadness will drown me more

I scarcely notice the rain pelting my coffee cup.
Or the small House Wrens near a pile of cut branches,
flitting about joyously, welcoming the light shower.

They remind me I need to get that cleaned up sometime,
but I’m hesitant to disturb their preferred habitat
so, I’ll leave them to enjoy their capering.

My reverie does notice the hush of absence
while I wait for these words to overcome
the silence in the garden we imagined.