C.C.

By C_C_T - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Friday, October 27, 2023

Sign in to see full entry.

Sign in to see full entry.

Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, October 24, 2023

Let me see, if I were a young eighty one I guess I could still have some fun like blowing seeds off a dandelion. Or pressing a crease in my pants with a cold iron. Things I have missed like climbing on the roof Scraping off moss, biting into an apple for proof. Well that was the way to see if it was... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Now I am becoming frail I can hardly start to tell this tale. Well, I have forgotten, was it true I have forgotten, not a clue No, that's rubbish; begin again Spare yourself a little pain. Well, I would like to sleep awhile And then wake up and feel agile. No, finish this and simply say I wiped it... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, October 7, 2023

A romantic feat, The door had come off of the shed and squashed the poor pussy cat dead. She sighed to herself a goodbye Stan, You have gone and I need a new man I’I1 have to explain it to gran. Just someone to carry the can. She walked clip-a-clop through the park, her heart was as high as a 1ark.... Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, October 5, 2023

OLDIE Yes. I was thinking as we age, we wear a thin disguise. She had bright yellow hair, and that look was in her eyes. She came swirling up the mall; it came as quite a shock. She was as pink and white as a peppermint rock. I grabbed a mature lady’s hand as she was passing by. I whispered, ‘Please... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, October 1, 2023

Last delivery. oldie Burning hot coals the polished oven glows. The three ladies assume their usual roles. They glance at each other as if this is worth a mention. The ginger and white nosed cat sprawls on the best cushion. There are pink roses on the fence near the door. It all looks so calm, but... Sign in to see full entry.

Tuesday, September 26, 2023

Oldie If my grey wake should whisper my regret or tell it as if your eyes are still a-glow The true meaning now, all gentle things have gone or now must go. Perhaps it happens; one no longer feels the warmth that closeness brings And though I tremble, for my world is so unreal I have no ache, I wish... Sign in to see full entry.

Sign in to see full entry.

Headlines (What is this?)