(Haiku)

'Plagiarism' is 

a strong word often used by

many hippocrates.

Wear a Crown

I now wear crown

so call me a king!

it's round and impressive 

a shiny little thing

it's made of fancy materials

not rubbish from a bin

and quite a ceramony to fit

...my dentist put it in.

Confined

Confine.

Confined.

Confinement.

"A sense or feeling of restriction".

Are we not all confined?

Do we even know what confinement really means?

It's different things to different people.

We live a life in our heads,

battling with our minds and our consciousness 

and all that goes on,

in our brains,

sat on top of this body we're given.

Is this your confinement?

Maybe your body doesn't function normally,

or in what is perceived as being the normal way.

Is your confinement a danger to yourself or others?

Is your confinement not all of your own making.

Maybe you've been able to break free from this confinement,

free to explore the world around you?

Confinement.

"The state of being confined"

What is meant by "confined?"

I sit in a room with walls and windows.

There is a door,

which is open - so am I confined?

I am confined by this life I have created

and the limits it imposes,

and what my abilities tell me I can do.

I can't fly a rocket and escape my confinement!

But is confinement simply a feeling of being enclosed?

What if you don't realise you're confined?

Is that another form?

You know when you are physically confined,

in a prison, 

in handcuffs and chains.

You know you are mentally confined,

you have depression,

anxiety,

you get claustrophobia,

in a small room,

or a crowded space,

you feel confined maybe by rules, 

laws or obligations 

But do you always feel confined?

Maybe you have an overwhelming 'can-do'  attitude to life,

and you're fighting it all the time!

But we are all confined on this small lump of rock,

the one we call home,

circling around a sun.

Only a few of us have had the experience of escaping that fact.

But on that rock

is the room in which I sit,

with it's windows and doors,

can I make my own escape,

for I, 

as are we all,

am confined,

and maybe I'm not always aware of that

and until that great awakening 

until I realise that fact

I shall never be able to plan

 ...my own great escape.

Nor will you!

moving house - same street different end

Looks like they're off - at last,

the ones with all the cars!

Their noisy children

with late night music,

The hired van is there,

all their stuff - I wonder where they're going?

Him, loading up.

Her, occupying the children - keeping them quiet,

more quite than usual!

We finally get to see that enormous TV,

the one which we heard every evening since they arrived.

At least they're not arguing in the street - yet!

And they're off - to pastures new,

not sure where.

We didn't speak that much,

but they were a nice enough family.

...oh, the van's stopped, 

up the street,

and they're getting out...

Tea at The Beach

Some pour it,

chilled from a supermarket fridge,

sparkling from a bottle.

Some soar high on the breeze with a keen eye,

then dive for it.

Some nip to the high street and buy it.

Some fish for it

or just in case,

bring it!

Ready to go 

in cool-boxes,

barbeques smoking,

hot and ready to cook.

...and some cook themselves,

20 minutes each side

at 180⁰ centigrade,

laying in a towel,

red and ready for Monday,

with explanations why,

to all at the office!

Paris With You

(I must say thank you to James Fenton for his poem "In Paris with you" for the inspiration for this piece)

Paris is; they say the city of love,

and I love that city more than any above.

I know that through lifes wringer; I have been

and that the very bottom; I have seen.

But when love grew,

and you said "I do"

I must go to Paris; Paris with you.

We could stroll its boulevards let's see all it's sights,

visit the 'Sacre Coeur'; up all those flights.

At the top we'd gaze upon the city and stare,

just drink it all in without a care.

But what a drag,

come; light me a fag!

for I am in Paris; Paris with you. 

Let's order 'service de chambre', cover the bed sheets with crumbs.

Much better than the 'metro'

and twiddling our thumbs.

We could express our love in a thousand ways,

then call down for 'service'

to take all the trays.

Paris is our view,

we're here; us two

here in Paris; Paris with you.

To hell with the 'Louvre' and all its queues,

and old 'Notre Dame' giving me the blues.

The 'Latin Quarter' although vibrant and gaye,

are going to have to wait',

I've got something to say.

Who could want more,

quick; fasten the door!

For I love Paris; Paris with you!