Does a Tree
Does a tree ask why it’s here? Does it ask what it is for? Does it contemplate existence As it’s turned into a door? Does it spend its whole life striving To be the best it can To end up being sat on By the broad backside of man? Does it wrestle with its conscience As it overshadows flowers? Does it have a glow of pride At all the life forms that it nurtures? Does a tree wish it could fly Or even run, or walk, or crawl? Doe a tree wish anything Or even think at all? As I sit here wondering What it is to be a tree Does it stand there majestically Musing about me? © Nicky Hetherington Mr Smith’s Christmas Decorations Precariously on his ladder he stands Florescent angels clasped tight in his hands. As a strong squalling rain-spattered wind makes him splutter, He clings by the skin of his teeth to the gutter. With maintenance of said gutter being quite lax, It breaks off, and into the window he smacks. The tinkling glass like sleigh bells all around, He’s suspended by fairy lights feet from the ground. As he struggles and writhes trying to make that last drop The inflatable snowman with explosive ‘POP’ Blows him straight down the path, where his sad journey ends On a luminous Rudolph and and all of his friends. The moral that his epitaph now bemoans is… At Christmas, don’t try to keep up with the Joneses. © Nicky Hetherington |
Man Flu
When you feel like your ribs will break each time you cough and your bones are all aching fit to fall off and you can’t get a wink of sleep all through the night and your nose turns as red as a traffic stop-light and runs like a water mains that frost has split and your throat feels like sandpaper oiled with grit and your eyes have grown several sizes too big or you head’s shrunk and feels like its clamped in a jig and you look like you’re over three hundred years old – You’re probably catching a cold! © Nicky Hetherington For Sale 1 body – spares or repairs The gasket's blown, time after flippin' time No looker – such neglect should be a crime! The joints are gone – they won't bend where they should, Not much to salvage underneath the hood. The chassis doesn't sashay any more, The bottom's nearly dragging on the floor. There may be something you think you can save, If not, it's heading for an early grave. © Nicky Hetherington |