What makes a piece of writing a poem?

If there isn't any rhyme or at least repeating rhythm,

it's just pretentious shredded prose and not a proper poem.

Strawbery patch

I'm pleasantly surprised to note

a rather unusual absence of slugs

while searching for any hidden fruit

(ignoring the possible presence of bugs)

by feeling 'blind' among the leaves.

But then my hand feels something soft

and moist, surely over-ripe but retrieves

the berry by squeezing  . . . I'm shocked !

It moves ! Above the leaves a head appears.

I recognise it and now it's clear -

if you want to keep your strawberries slug free,

encourage your patch to be well-frogly.

Apples

Now the crows are attacking my apples

spearing them with their wicked beaks

but there's such a glut it doesn't matter

losing their share in the following weeks.

The garden is littered with baby apples

pushed overboard by the swelling sprays,

dessert for the resident slugs and snails

surviving the sweltering summer days.

The 'drops' I add to my compost bin -

a layer cake of everything;

the big apples will be sliced and stewed,

boxed in the freezer for winter food.

Is this what it's all about ?

A happy family life.

Then lonely grieving.

Existence without wife.

And the long leaving.

Tweets 23

 SCAMMED

It's not just the money. I can pay it.

But I don't like being taken for a ride.

It bruises my self-confidence

and wounds my vanity pride.

Some of my friends are flowers,

some fruits, some vegetables.

They charm the summer hours

with beauty and digestibles.

Gym weights hopefully build muscle.

They certainly build self-confidence.

I'm very grateful for a lucky life.

Not quite as lucky as it might have been.

But a lot luckier than many others.

Dictatorship is brutalism.

Dictator is too bland a term.

It should be Brutalist.

Tiredness can be lethargy or fatigue.

Which is yours ?

DOUBLE  VISION

She sees a possible husband.

He sees a possible fuck.

The Sea

Out of my depth and floundering

you tried to teach me how to swim.

I learned enough to stay afloat

and then you pulled me in.

Secure on land I found my feet

and gladly fell in step with you.

We marched together down the years

and hid the sea from view.

Through time we built a barrier

proof against any threatening storm

and in the lee we passed our lives

peaceful, dry and warm.

But then you died and suddenly

our guarding sea-wall cracked apart.

It cannot keep the ocean out

and I'm back at my start.

But this time's different from before -

no teacher tries to help me swim.

No longer caring if I drown

I watch the sea sweep in.

She lay so calmly after sleepless nights

I hardly had the heart to wake her.

She looked so peaceful in the morning light -

should I disturb her, did I dare shake her?

I sat beside her on a stool

and kissed her forehead, marble cool.

"Wake up" I whispered "Let's go home.

There's lots to do and I need you"

She didn't stir - I waited,

then reluctantly I left her.

I know she would've come if she could

but the coffin kept her.