Shiny shoes

A wee frivolous one, just because  …

 

I want some shiny shoes
that reflect the sky as I run
that taxi the rain in proud little drops
and dazzle the day just for fun!

I want some shiny shoes
but Mum wants a sensible brogue
I’m at school, she says with a sigh
and not on the cover of Vogue!

I want some shiny shoes
they’re all I’ve ever wanted
but Mum says she hasn’t been paid yet
and the piggies have all been emptied

I want some shiny shoes
from the charity shop will be fine
Because even though they’ve been worn
they’re still shiny and they’re mine!

 

 

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flowers in the bin

Having just posted a poem about dreams, I thought I would post one about something that has been haunting my dreams for many months now, the plight of refugees from war-ravaged countries around the world. I wrote it in response to the latest dVerse Poets’ challenge, which is to include a line from a song lyric. Mine is from the Sex Pistols: God Save the Queen (“we’re the flowers in the bin”).

From seed to bloom,
our journey’s long.
Who will listen to our song?
Who will give us standing room?
We’re the flowers in the bin,
we’re the flowers in the bin.
Some day soon, they tell us,
we’ll be free,
we’ll be free, they tell us,
some day soon.
What’s our sin we ask them,
what’s our sin?
You’re the flowers in the bin, they answer,
you’re the flowers in the bin.
Babies mothers fathers twins –
we will overflow their bins!
What’s our sin, we ask you,
tell us please –
our hopes discomfort you like fleas,
we’re the flowers in the bin,
we’re the flowers in the bin.

dreams

This is a quadrille on the theme of dreams, which was the challenge set by whimzygizmo of dVerse Poets this week.

in dreams we are weightless
travellers with no baggage
holding tickets printed
with invisible ink
unfettered by expectation
it matters not when we arrive
nor where our winding journey began
our destination is unscheduled
in dreams we are winners
not just also-rans

Moving on

Her legs were knobbly boles

jammed into shabby slippers,

her swollen feet two massive moles

shuffling along on flappy flippers.

She’d lost her lover long ago –

he’d found a svelte and pretty thing –

she wondered if this girl would know

she’d soon be tethered to his ring.

Soon she too would feel the rips

appearing in her self esteem

and when she offered him her lips

he’d vanish into someone else’s dream.