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!
-
Madverbs
He frightened all the birds, scarecrowishly. Her hobby was riding horses, hobbyhorsically.
They enjoyed camping, intentsly.
He walked through the fog, mysteriously.
He stamped his foot, ground-breakingly.She sat on the chair, deep-seatedly.
They bounded across the field, grasshopperly.
She splashed about in puddles, wellingtonly.
She sprinkled herbs on her pasta, gingerly.He tramped along the trunk road, elephantically.
She hobbled along the mountain path, walking-stickly.
He grabbed the steering wheel, clutchingly.
She appeared in a camping commercial, inadvertently.
He held in his hand a book of scary stories, grippingly.She tended the garden, sluggishly.
He backpacked across the galaxy, star-trekkingly.
Her soup was so hot, pipingly.
She bopped and boogied all night long, foxtrotingly.
She walked across the beach, flipfloppily.He slipped on the ice, skiddingly,
and broke his arm, humourously.
He put his clothes in the washing machine, tubdrumtuckly.
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.
