Ink

Ink

Oh ink, incredible ink,

marker of my words;

fluid of my thoughts.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

life blood of my pen;

stain upon my hands.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

writer of rights,

writer of wrongs.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

dark lines upon paper;

scratchings upon lines;

lines upon lines

of words

painting pictures.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

make my thoughts heard;

mark my page,

print my words.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

extension of my mind.

By J. Barrett

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday

        If I live to be one hundred years old,

Then I am now a third of my way through this life.

But then, numbers are a man conceived notion,

        time harnessed by the calenders and clocks.

I don't feel as old as I suppose I should feel;

And it was only yesterday I was but a child.

        Does that mean I'll be an old man tomorrow?

If so, I will only be old in body.

        My spirit will always be young;

                My energy will always be sprightly;

                        My mind will always be willing;

Even if my wrinkled, withering, desiccated carcass is not.

By J. Barrett

Dream a Dream

Dream a Dream

With your eyes tightly closed, as you drift off to sleep,

wonder who in your dreams it is you will be.

When you're fast asleep you can dream anything,

be a prince or a princess, or even be king.

Be slayer of dragons or feared captain of seas,

with your eyes tightly closed, be whatever you please.

An astronaut floating through space;

a time traveller flying through time;

or a lady in lace waiting dainty in line.

A cowboy, or girl, with guns slung on your hip;

or a dolphin jumping gaily through the wake of a ship.

Be a little bird flitting through the soft fluffy clouds,

or a fierce and proud lion whose roar is so loud.

Be an explorer who climbs mountains,

or digs tunnels underground,

and discovers buried treasure, that has never been found.

Be a billionaire on your yacht,

or a poor pauper in Paris;

whatever you want, let your imagination fly free.

So close your eyes child, and drift off to sleep,

and make your own adventures in a field full of dreams.

By J. Barrett

Little Old Ladies Are Dangerous

Little Old Ladies Are Dangerous

Five frail little old ladies, who were the better side of ugly,

Got me on the street one day; and then they bloody mugged me!

They didn't move that quickly, they actually appeared a little slow,

But those sneaky little pensioners, were quick and packed a blow.

The first one had a walking frame, gripped tight in her wrinkly hands,

She poked me in the belly, and told me to straighten my stance.

I stood up a little straighter; I was slouching, as I'm prone to do.

And that's when the next one came at me, little old lady number 2.

Her handbag was a whirring blur, helicoptered above her head;

And I'm certain if it had hit me square, I'd be surely laying dead.

But lucky for me, her heavy bag, just glanced upon my knee,

Still, it dropped me down to the ground, just in time for number 3.

That little old lady, she was riding high, cackling crazy on her gopher,

As she went buzzing by, she lashed out, cracking me with her loafer.

Her pleather shoe connected squarely with my still befuddled noggin;

And if it hadn't brained me dumb, I'd've been out of there, a jogging.

Instead, lots of little doily stars, floated around, and in and out of sight;

Then in came little old lady number 4, whooping with all her might.

She launched herself above me, to come crashing down upon my gut,

And blasted the wind pure from me; by now I had really had enough.

I would have given them anything, to put a stop to all of this abuse.

As I was rolling around in pain, number 5 stole my wallet and shoes.

So if you see a little old lady, hastily cross the street and stay away,

They're evil little creatures, who'll kick your ass and make you pay.

Oh, and if you're wondering what was said when I finally saw the cops,

It was, 'Listen sonny, this isn't funny,' and then they told me to piss off.

But I should have realised better, after I was waved off with detest,

Beneath that policeman's outfit, was a little old lady behind the desk.

By J. Barrett

Lonely Longings

Lonely Longings

My lonely heart whispers sweet nothings,

my ears hear nothing but its lonely beats.

The rushing blood longing for the rush of love.

The feeling of warmth that glows from within,

like a shot of brandy to the brain.

My eyes are hazy, its hard to see through the tears,

they distort the world to how it feels.

I'm drowning,

drowning in the feeling of you;

whoever you are.

I know you're out there somewhere,

waiting for me, like I'm waiting for you,

waiting for each of us to join hearts,

and hands.

To expel that loneliness,

to feel each others rush of love,

to feel each others rush of blood,

in each others heartbeat.

To feel the warmth that we both recognise,

and both need.

To feel that shot to the head,

and to the heart;

making us glow from inside out.

I want to see your tears through mine,

as we finally realise –

you are the one.

By J. Barrett

Counting Down The Days

Counting Down The Days

I just want to go home.

I'm hungry,

        empty.

Sick of being melancholy,

        hate not having money

                and I hate not being free.

Why must I stay here,

         unable to do the things I want?

I feel trapped by my generosity.

You owe me,

        yet you're not paying me back.

Let me go, I just want to go.

I want to leave, and honestly,

        never see your face again.

You annoy me, fill me with dread,

        that my life is forever

                going to be surrounded by people,

                        people just like you.

Leeches on my wallet

         and my soul.

You owe me,

         supposedly paying me back.

Yet you still take,

         and I'm left with nothing.

No wonder I feel so empty.

By J. Barrett

Fox

Fox

I.

Grey clouds. Green fields.

Wind swept. Grass hills.

White lamb. Red fox.

Loud bleat. Jaw locks.

Red wool. White teeth.

No more. Heart beat.

Jade grass. Bronze stain.

Gun shot. Run 'way.

Black boots. Brown hooves.

Reins crack. Beast moves.

Amber stock. Silver sight.

Bush shakes. Aim tight.

Black fur. Blue words.

Dog barks. Unhurt.

White paws. Black paws.

Chase on. All fours.

Brown hooves. Black dirt.

Kicks up. Pound earth.

Black dog. Red fox.

Den hole. 'Neath rocks.

Grey stone. Green shrub.

Fox hides. Scared cubs.

Red fox. White man.

Two beasts. Make plans.

Navy sky. Golden moon.

Day's done. Back soon.

White cheese. Brown bread.

Gut full. To bed.

Black hole. Clear cave.

Sly fox. Cubs saved.

Cyan sky. Yellow sun.

Man up. Smile slung.

Brown hooves. Black boots.

Travel on. Same route.

Black hole. Red stick.

Match out. Light wick.

Pink ears. Tan gloves.

Small bang. Loud 'nuff.

Blue hole. Grey smoke.

Dead den. Man hopes.

Black boots. Brown hooves.

Home bound. Work t'do.

Red fox. Green mile.

Cubs safe. Sly smile.

II.

Red fox. Green grass.

Found food. At last.

Slate roof. Black tar.

Explore. New farm.

Beige eggs. White teeth.

Bird coop. Beneath.

Red fur. Brown plume.

Quills fly. 'Round room.

Scarlet splash. Orange eyes.

Bird attack. Dying cries.

Red fur. White paws.

Carcass. 'Tween jaws.

Gold field. Brown gate.

Get out. Make haste.

Green grass. Blue skies.

Wind blows. Clouds high.

White paws. Brown ground.

Trotting. Safe bound.

Red fox. Rouge cubs.

Feasting. In shrubs.

White teeth. Red hen.

Then home. To den.

III.

Ruby fox. Silver fox.

Age comes. Death knocks.

Crimson cub. Copper cub.

Time's come. Grown up.

Black hole. Grey den.

Old fox. Leaves them.

Silver fox. Jade grass.

Lays down. Long last.

Sapphire sky. Bronze eyes.

Stare up. Last sigh.

Brown leaves. White snow.

Time comes. Time goes.

Beige bones. Black dirt.

Returned. To earth.

By J. Barrett