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Bring on your shining armour, dude.I'll be your damsel in distress with attitude.
His name is called and there's a pause
just long enough to halt a war
tame timber wolves and trim their claws
hide diamonds in a secret drawer
I am the word juggler.I juggle the wordslike swords.I slice sensewith poetic license.
When Harry went awayhe stole a part of Mum.No-one warned us. No-one said.We looked and looked for ages –
He's the Keepy-Uppy Kid.
There is a place (believe me,
she said) where if, if
you go beyond
the street lights, to the lane's end,
Peter the orange parrothad a very tiny beak,unlike the other parrotshe was never heard to speak.But they were never nasty to him,Peter the non-talking parrot
Eyes as wide as continents brim wih the water between.
Seeks a different future. Looks back on what has been.
Mouth seeks another language. Shapes a different air.
The light through the blind is a poem,
the way it illuminates air.
And the shadows that fall
on the floor and the wall
are signs that a poem is there.
I spied a small lonely boy.I was his beautiful red balloon,from morning through to noon,