Without You
Through the mist the sun’s stocky and yellow;
there’s little traffic in the town.
Each veiled day floats past unrecognised, unremembered.
Yet travelling back to a deeper remembrance
the days whizzed along with us carelessly hurtling after.
But now an hour is an age, a day is an aeon.
The morning is only half-filled with words or work,
the afternoons mooch across the fields aimless as cows.
This day-long solitude is the tariff paid for temporary closeness.
John Rice
Please note that the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.
Random Poetry!
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The Cry-Babies that Live in the Sun
When the Satsuma sun rises on a soft summer morningthe Cry-Babies are tearful:
“Phew, phew! Too hot, too hot! I want the sun to set!” they howl.
When the sallow sun sets on a wild winter eveningthe Cry-Babies are snivelling:
“Brrr, brrr! Too cold, too cold! I want the sun to rise!” they bawl.
Silly little Cry-Babies! Don’t know what they want.Darkness, lightness…coldness, warmness…happiness, sadness.
“Yes! Yes! That’s what we want! All them! All them!”
Cry-Babies…huh!
John Rice
The author encourages parents, teachers and librarians to read the poems to children and young people. However, the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.
