Odes (short)

Escape to a Seasonless World

I drew myself apart
Cushioned on a lover
My body not my heart

Heriditary Repression

Grandfather, father and me
We're all suppressed you see
It's not my fault, it's handed down
Just like dad's old dressing gown

Non-empathy

Lots of things were said
No words left in the head
But much in heart remained unsaid
As we lay apart on a wide bed

Our Wreath

Six foot beneath
On some forgotten heath
Beat ourselves to death
With falsities of breath

In Verity

From singularity
Gained familiarity
With ambidexterity
Of perpendicularity

Require similarity
With jocularity
And particularity
For regularity

Reverie

Ice-creams
Mountain streams
Foolish dreams
Reality screams