I'd Sooner Be Poor Than Be Like You! - Ian Duquemin

You look at me as though I don't belong here
But I'm here... And here I will stay!
Your money and expenses could never move me
No matter how much you would pay!
I don't want your money, as I don't have a need
It's the prison you've built and you'll never be freed!
I don't want your wealth... As I'm not into greed
I'd sooner be poor than be like you!

You tell me that I don't deserve to be here
But who the hell do you think you are to say?
To solve all the problems that I can see clear
It's you who should be on your way!
As I'm not the kind of person you ever could use
I don't have a thing so I've nothing to lose!
But I do have a tongue you may have to excuse
I'd sooner be poor than be like you!

You think you are better than I'll ever be
But you are blinded and fooled by your wealth!
It doesn't take money to tantalise me
You can keep every coin for yourself!
As money is something you need in your life!
To buy fancy cars and to purchase a wife
But I don't need to live with all that trouble and strife
I'd sooner be poor than be like you!

Ian Duquemin

Passing Strangers - Katherine Svensson

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in September 2012

I drove past you.
You wore a brown leather jacket.
A skeleton covered in skin;
Cheeks and eyes and body concave.
Life being sucked out of you from within.

What cancer would take your life?
I do not know.
You made me think about you for a while,
As I drove past you,
On my way home.

Katherine Svensson

Sorry, you're a poet - Bryony de Lat

It's no bed of roses and you know it, poet
but you were born to be one, always will
maybe a modern performer, with your mate, mic.
Or ye olde school scribe, with ink and quill.

You're not like news-hacks, who just scribble, and spew
with you everything that happens, hits home
you take it all to heart, no escape for you
it's neither rag, nor paperback, it's a life-long tome.

Everything affects you, with your caring heart
it's your best virtue, but it's also your curse
your emotions are constantly ignited, excited
and to temper and contain them, you oft' turn to verse.

You wouldn't really want to be like some people
full of themselves, with their masquerades, and poses
strutting through their own garden of life
without ever smelling the roses.

Bryony de Lat

Comfort Vessel - Kate Lee

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in September 2012

If I could capture the beautiful essence of our friendship
I would pour it into a terracotta vessel and keep it safely there,
So that when I was alone and in need of comfort
I could gently release the cork stopper
And bathe in the glorious perfume of contented familiarity.

Kate Lee

West is Best - Diane Scantlebury

West is best
And so it seems,
Where tractors around the arena race,
Where ears are pierced
By teen girls’ screams,
As in the embrace of a fairground ride
Into the darkening, cloudy air they rise,

West is best
And so it seems,
Where in the side tents
Piglets, donkeys, fowl and cattle
Compete for prizes,
While cakes, scones and veg
Proudly nurtured do battle,

West is best
And so it seems,
Where under heaving, hot canvas
Friends and visitors meet,
While jostling in the endless queue
For pints lining the bar,
With high spirited banter their neighbours greet,

West is best
And so it seems,
Where local bands strut their stuff on stage
Resurrecting vintage tunes from the past,
For the appreciative, swaying audience
Now slightly drunk,
Wilted and showing their age.

Diane Scantlebury