WRITERS' BLOCK

              I'd like to think there was something extraordinary about it.
              "You're on strike?" boomed the doctor.
              I gazed out across snowclad gardens.
              A robin smiled and shook his tail.
             "Where would we be without people like you?"
               Where indeed.
              Don't do normal or routine,
              Don't do blind conformity or herds,
              Don't do silence when the audience goes home,
              Don't do laughter, life or love.
              My face as closed as my book.
              And the robin ate cake.

THAT'S ME

                So where are you now?
                Somewhere in between apathy and agitation I suspect ,
                bouncing off the ceiling like your own cheques,
                falling to the ground like a snipered grouse.

                Lion on a tightrope
                tumbling on roses.
                That's me.



 

CONFESSIONS OF A NIGHTNURSE

               Tell me doctor,which is worse?
               cynical patient or clinical nurse?
               There he is.Such dedication.
               My shaking hand pours medication.

               Never look him in the eye
               he'll never know the reason why.
               The real predicament of the day
               is not to give the game away.

               I'll shine my torchlight on his face
               then disappear without a trace.
               Tomorrow he'll be going home
               and all that time he'd never known.