Invisible Obsession

My Kindle is like a bus queue
and it’s one that’s very long;
it’s far too easy to purchase a book
when you’re hooked up to Amazon.
It’s now another obsession;
I need to sort it out,
but help for a Kindle obsession,
well, there isn’t much about.
But I may have come up with an answer
for this dreadful dilemma I’m in:
I will imagine every new book that I buy
and decide whether it’s thick or it’s thin.
Then I will give each one an appropriate space
on an empty bookcase shelf
and when it’s crammed right up to the end
I will have a good chat with myself.
I will say, Now look you here,
this really, really must stop;
just take all those books away from that shelf
and off to a charity shop.
But just a minute, I say to myself
as I scratch my empty head,
There are no books to take away!
I know! – I will make a donation instead!
And although that makes me feel better
the obsession’s still long as my arm,
but I think I will probably settle for this;
after all, it’s doing no harm.

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Teacher

 This poem was inspired by one written by a dear friend,
Cynthia Jobin.  Her poem was written in December last year
and is called “Beau”. Please visit Cynthia
to read her terrific poetry

You wander in and out
so slowly now,
painful limp of age,
a hip joint not quite what it was.
But your needs are few;
warm spot on the sofa,
promise of occasional fish,
a small patch outside
for private stuff and
a spoonful of fresh air –
your entire world
now on the space of a stamp.

And yet you waddle quite happily back in,
settle yourself on my knee
a purring little engine ticking over,
dribbling pleasure,
closing bliss-drenched eyes
as I stroke your chin.
We remember Christmas
how you played with a fallen bauble,
scored an invisible goal and you
looked at me as if to say,
I’ve still got it!

Do you crave anything at all,
your gone life, the lost wild?
I don’t think so;
you are not wired up like we are,
have no expectations.
You have nothing to re-learn

whereas I, on the other hand,
could learn much from you.

What I Thought Was Mine

Today as I walk

toward hope of a clearer truth,

the one that all the books say is the best,

I will still rail against this pernicious disease

and go nowhere gently

because I am who I am.

I shall do mindful moments and meditate,

emerge feeling free –

for a while at least

assured that this is the way

because we all know that

now is all we have.

But beneath all,

I will silently seethe and shout

while I pointlessly crave my old life

as every day that passes it seems

a little more of what I thought was mine

is taken away.

Wendy L. Macdonald

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