A Collection Of Poems

Broken

'Mirror, mirror off the wall
how did you come to drop and fall?

With silver slithers of pointed glass
how did this moment come to pass.

The telling crash of noise abound
a multitude of division found

strewn across a slippery floor,
you fell and now you are no more

than a memory of what used to be.
A reflection now you cannot see'.

She went out of her window.
Smashed her mind
like a pain of glass.
When she spoke
it was like sharp glass
all around me,
her clear cut logic
cut deep with transparency.

Disasters say so much,
so clearly and precisely
but with such profound impact
as to never to come out nicely.

Adrian Cox


Fiendish Little Circles

Following footsteps
faintly in the snow,
I've got the scent
I know which way to go.

Fiendish little monster
smells like food.
Over fields, into woods
I look behind every tree.

The scent is strong
I expect it will jump out,
I hear myself breathing
whilst quietly looking about.

Suddenly in my face
a smiling circle with a frown,
I smack him over the head
terminally beat him down.

Left in excited shock
I'm ready to eat,
starting at the bottom
with its candy flavoured feet.

I feel other monsters
watching from afar,
eyes blinking in the darkness
little bar stewards!

Adrian Cox


Melancholy Turns Up

I'm fast asleep, the rain pours down on this winters day.
My room is dark, the sky outside is grey.
I'm like climbing up a cliff face while gravity pulls me down.
One jump that's all it takes, just one slip to get me down.
The icy ledge is my life, I'm feeling pretty cold.
Dreaming I can feel my feet slipping from my hold.

It's just another day, as I wake up I feel sad.
Waiting for work at two O'clock, something I wish I never had.
Turn up the stereo, play some jazz man.
Lay back in bed I'm an avid jazz fan.
A watch on my wrist ticking away the second hand.
I'm conscious of the time because I'll soon be in demand.
deep down inside I've got the blues.
Waiting for work it's just bad news.
It's Monday afternoon, I'm starting work soon.
Turn up the tape it's a sad jazz tune.

The rain has stopped, but the wind howls by.
Clouds move fast across the winter's cold and sunny sky.
I'm drinking cups of coffee tasting pretty sour.
Sitting on my bed I've been contemplating here for almost an hour.
I'm listening to some more jazz music on my stereo
whilst waiting for work on late shift, but I don't want to go.

Adrian Cox


Sunday Night, Monday Morning

I get in bed from rain I hide
under covers deep inside
where I like to be
where my bed and I seem to agree.
I'm tired, a physical state.

A humming in my ears
tells me I'm up too late.
Legs of jelly, feet like lead
I feel I am the living dead.

Around the midnight hour
a tapping on my window
from a midnight shower.
There's no one in the streets below
cold is now beginning to show
its winter time but I'm feeling warm
although I'm not on top form.
Manic Monday lies ahead
in the meantime
I savour this moment in bed.

I wake to hear traffic below
see outside falling snow.
I smell fried breakfast waiting to be
washed down with a mug of tea.
Its Monday morning lazy and still
I'll ring work tell them I'm ill!

Adrian Cox


Tea Time

Can you imagine
my tease so nice,
sweet with sugar
full of spice.
Making me sigh
I was hungry and blue,
her sponge was a beauty
fluffy its true.
Full cream milk
warm by keeping abreast,
I quench my thirst
inwardly digest.
I drink her thoughts
they always delight
she feeds my mind,
I take such big bites.

Fish on a dish
salty and hot,
I eat her protein
all that she's got.
Her buffets are always
a jolly good spread,
she always makes sure
I get well fed.
We make a loaf
she lets it grow,
rising in the oven
baking the dough.
I was never starved,
no girl could beat her,
she was so tasteful
I just had to eat her.

Adrian Cox


The Abuse And Calculations Of Perfect Patricia Plenitude

Reciprocal Roger had nothing going on.
He hurled abuse at Patricia
until she was to the power of minus one.
Roger became the man Patricia loved to hate,
but over time she recovered
back to her positive twenty eight.

Along came Chris to two decimal places
he was a radical sign.
He squarely rooted Patricia
until she was five point two nine.
She lost her integrity, an integer no more.
She decided to try a cubic root
which gives a really radical score.

Dick was only of a medium size,
but accurate to five sig figs,
it opened Patricia's eyes.
So now that Patricia has become
an irrational surd
Do you know what number occurred?


To nought point nought nought nought one,
to Patricia's horror
she found he was positively a relative error,
but that's another riddle.

Adrian Cox