Bench

Lining paths across our commons

facing out to sea,

offering the fatigued mass a

place at once to be.

To all a seat of comfort

but it can be more,

loved ones gone but not forgotten

by the sandy shore,

on top of hill tops in the downs

in parks and cemeteries,

around town squares, in beer gardens

beneath wheezing trees.

For me a chance to glance surroundings

whilst others share discourse,

sweet nothings shared amongst laughter

before the strained divorce.

By Dominic

Poetry Shelf

As purveyors of fine fiction, we at Thee Nook have decided to start a regular new poetry blog. This weeks poem is from our friend,the very talented Dominic. The photo’s his as well.

Goodbye cruel world:

I can’t take anymore,

I know I have no worth,

Nor offer any mirth,

I am now such a bore,

I won’t be number one,

No love comes my way,

No luck will ever stay,

I am now done,

I’ll leave this earth,

Take refuge in my grave,

Oblivion for the brave,

No more pitiless mirth,

It comes to pass,

The comfort of my death,

One more maddening breath,

And then my last.