.
The red line of death
tells me we’re going to be late
growing frustration.
by Scooj
Tag: Poetry
Rain stopped play
Within a minute
of setting out the paint cans
the heavens opened.
by Scooj
British summer time
Cool sun, perfect sky
gusty wind cuts through the yard
September in June.
by Scooj
Seventeen
.
‘L’ plates for the boy
and a Play Station joystick;
man in transition
.
by Scooj
Pooped
.
It’s a young man’s game
playing five-a-side football
just can’t give it up.
.
by Scooj
Life is good
On attending a seminar about connecting people with nature…
Easy to forget
but nice to be reminded
shared experience.
by Scooj
Exodus
Desk by desk they leave
and a calm silence descends;
my keyboard tap taps.
by Scooj
F for ‘vescence
Bubbling over with
enthusiasm, new hope
and creative joy.
by Scooj
Elder
Beneficiary
of thick conifer clearance
large flat white umbels.
by Scooj
Tick dock
Strange fascination
forever a nature boy;
canine passenger
by Scooj
Natural adventures 