poem, poetry, rhyme, Uncategorized

A Beauty Certificate – Expiry date

Entering the world she was stamped with a beauty certificate

The terms and conditions read

“To be happy there is no need to gesticulate,

But only to be well bred”.


Now breeding does not come easy

Especially to the pure

And not to be cheesy

But for beauty – there is no cure


She was taught to smile, to sit upright

To say please, to say thank you

To lie, only when it was right

And most of all – never to be true


Her life was a whirlwind

Of autographs and pictures and the perfect smile of a mime

While a calm river was her mind

Of mathematical equations, laws and theories of time


To utter intelligence was shunned

For most were fickle

And the idea of “Brains and Beauty” did not tickle

And more often than not, it left them stunned


She was no more than her mask

Not a degree to her name (her mother would have no such thing)

Now Her beauty is slowly fading

Glory days are waning as she wonders where next to bask


More make up

Cover up

But what will she do when the wrinkle says “ Time’s up”?





poem, rhyme

To who an apprentice to be? 

Before I had my rags removed,
I molded a man after my own

Image, as I moved 

Through the tiny stage of town.

His name was Buckley the Baker.

The sweets he made melted hearts of stone;

They turned wars in the streets into wars for the Maker,

And churned minds away from the phone.

He had a mushy beard, that

made him resemble Santa Clause. 

But I was mad I at him about what I heard

during one dark pause.

Head down, 

looking like an upside down clown

After the baker asked with his nose turned up, head shaking

“Who is that boy interested in baking?”