Sunday #poetry

A day of rest,

Perhaps the best,

For Sunday peace,

When problems cease.



There is something magical about words,

Conjuring up thoughts and images,

What you think may not be shared by another,

Or be shared by all,


Perhaps one solitary word can help change the World,




I don’t know every word,

Nor do I use every one I know,

But like others I have my favourites,

Today, it is pootle,

And yes,


I have pootled about.



I had cross words with someone who nearly ran me over,

They were on their phone whilst reversing their car,

But she decided that no apology would be forthcoming,

Rather she tried to berate my dog,

Telling me not to let her foul the pavement,

Strange how when challenged,

Words turn to insults,

to threats,

rather than to apology,

After all,

my dog just wanted to go for her daily pootle too.



But words hurt,


Pointy words,


Cut and bleed you,

I much prefer what I call curvy words,

That embrace,


And protect you.


Maybe I shouldn’t take things to heart,

But then that’s why I am me,

I have a big heart,

And a low pain threshold…



Perhaps I’d better just pootle in silence.