Poetry for the non poetic – A Mathom House of Sorts

Convention

Of some things one should never speak. I wonder if they can be typed? What would happen I wonder, if

The dead walk among us My mother joined me on my walk this evening I wandered past a place we’d

I saw a four year old Superman on a scooter, all red cape and runny nose. His blue eyes radiated

You don’t see towelling sun hats as often as you used to I think that’s sad The crate of beer has all but disappeared too

I fly Always in motion I hide in the sky Thousands of lonely people amidst Tens of thousands of happy

I don’t know how I feel about this 22nd thing really. So much media noise. So many people talking about