Weather Report

Squally winds are building up

Foreboding clouds distressing

Drenching trenching water falls

Bad weather needs are pressing

Windscreen wipers rubbered up

Two naked scrapers streaking

The road ahead is vision dead

A sense of hazard havoc wreaking

People hunched up seeking shelter

A hundred million landing stages

Too late the writer’s book is done

No happy ending in these pages

Original Sin

A deep sleep at night is an eyelid in flight

Such is the terror to infringe copyright

Darkness allows a pushed pen to surmise

As dawning at sunup may well plague your eyes

A search high and low for original flow

For the new and unusual phrase apropos

But a fear of the smear of not being first

Left staring despairing at words interspersed

Attempts at expressions seem less convoluted

As hid when presented with essence diluted

When creating your novel be aware of Sod’s Law

By dispersing reversing things not heard before

Conclusion Confusion

Spinning coins and turning cards

Rolling dice on tough decisions

When one way or another

Calls for choices on positions

One may consider sometimes though

When balls are bouncing off the wall

That putting off your final word

Is where uncertainty must fall

When benchmarks are invisible

When rules of thumb are hitching rides

Use a hunch to find the best of bunch

And leave all other things besides

Piccatchio

Naked visions veiled in silhouettes

Engage a narrative of scenes

Splendid picture postcards

Lives held still on plate terrines

A memory spread on light veneer

A one time gathering invention

When lighting caught a camera eye

Fine displays in two dimension

Based on Don't Go To India Peter Sarstedt
Peter Sarstedt Link

Muddles in Huddles

Picture Link

When out taking lunch

in a group or a bunch

It’s worth making plans 

in advance

For the group is a troupe 

singing similar tunes

Whilst a bunch is 

a haphazard dance

A bunch is a crowd 

full of laughter out loud

Not a group in a loop 

with agendas

Nudges and winks, 

a nod to petty cash drinks

As a bunch tends

 to smirk at pretenders

A group is a song sheet 

precisely compiled

Conducted in choir 

like precision

Unlike the bunch 

who buy their own lunch

Which the group 

looks upon with derision

The group is a mood

in a transient crowd

Expediently loyal

to the money

Bunches are scenes 

where reality means

That in-spite of it all 

keep it funny

Where a joke is a joke 

not a dig or a poke

Pleasant bunch 

is a good place to be

Unlike a group who 

will jump through a hoop

Apple-polishing gloss
“Look at me!”