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Round and Around the Round...

Round and Around the Round….

Making my way round the pond again today,
I throw some bread to my favourite old Coot
Not much has changed the Heron’s still grey.
he honours me by playing his foot like a lute.

The sound follows me as I walk to the spawn,
the large fish are still feeding much to well.
So little left, the old lady works on her lawn,
she hails from Ireland, hear her voice I can tell.

The large Willow hides me and my sorrow,
don’t know how I’ll pay for my next set of sins.
A bailiff or worse on his way on the morrow,
why can’t these people from here use bins?

Picking up rubbish I find a thrown away note,
information is like currency to a clever chap.
On my first reading I find it hard not to gloat,
second time around it gives my old face a slap.

Reaching the bench feeling a little unsteady,
here I peruse this note while sitting down.
Gazing at the water I see a possible eddy,
is it sink or swim for this classic clown.

Not much further my friend chases a squirrel,
he’s been doing this deed forever and an age.
They bomb him with Acorns he starts to burl,
an inspector seeing this would reach for a cage.

Up the little steps the white dog spots my friend,
off they scarper to romp not a care do they mind.
The note in my pocket, don’t know what I intend,
I certainly have no anger that is not of my kind.

Walking on the path I see a puddle left by the rain,
thinking nature keeps on doing no matter of man.
Has this new information just added to my pain,
I go on around this pond with pride while I still can.

The noisy bridge is a distraction I still love It’s sounds,
I can still hear their laughter while they bounced across.
gathering up memories they’re worth more than pounds,
no man should have these taken it’s far to much of a loss.

I’m across and feeling calmer this is always the way,
not far from the house now a decision must be made.
A Starling it’s colours sparkling brightens any day,
sings a song so beautifully, why are men so staid?

So judgemental and condescending to their peers,
why can’t we just sing and build webs like the spider.
Round and round we could go the music in our ears,
catching a lover’s memories, snuggle deep beside her.

Back to the water and all the life that it maintains,
seeing busy Bee's at work in the bramble bush.
Truly it’s natures bounty every living creature gains,
as water from the sea keeps our lives so very lush.

We came from the sea first crawling then to walk,
the land laid out before us to do as we please.
Gathering as groups before we could even talk,
groping blindly grunting at the strong to appease.

Looking at the Ant’s where I so nearly put my feet,
equating them to us running around feeding our need,
They’re are some among us who think themselves elite,
paying those weakest among us to feed their greed.

Building dangerous monstrosities to further their power,
unlike the Ants, Bees, Fish or Birds who only take enough.
Imitating the note, straining nature’s relationship by the hour,
not even taking heed when nature sometimes cuts up rough.

The moral if there’s any to be found in the round, is
next time you go it will have changed in appearance.
The note is only paper taken out of the ground,
words are only where someone else’s hand did dance.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Don't know what to say now...
Editing stage: 


I have a grand propensity to be close to water, it calms me and I found myself merrily carried along with the consumption of your eye. Not only that, but the movement of emotion and consumption of your eyes. The greatest difference between compassion and compulsion is...compassion involves action, compulsion is lip service. You captured something most today rarely comprehend in your Round Around Round...and there are many whom will never consume what you consumed and there will be some who would lunch right with you. It's a long piece and I like that because it requires one to sustain...not just the reader...but the poet. This is a right write. kudos

Thank you, your comments are warmly recieved. Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

author comment

So true - it's been happening for thousands of years - so your title is just right! Again I like your message and the skillful way you get it across.

A clever well thought out poem - that flowed well.

Love Mand xxxxx

Thank you, love Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

author comment
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