Hell or Heaven

It was ain’t a bummer that holy summer,
It was a mere frustration, dying out of starvation,
Couldn’t see her cry out of fear,
All that I could do is wipe her tears.

We both had a fixed final destination,
In such a weird situation;
I stood beside her like a phenom,
Having only a drop of venom;

My texture altered to be selfish asking her last wish,
It was just in moments that I took her life instant,
Strangled and watched the light leaves her eyes,
Spangled and I gulped the deadly venom,
My soul flies, seeing her dead eyes
Asking -
“Hell or Heaven”



Quavering Poet.
14th Jan ’08.

Beauty from Strathspey . . .

That fine dusk in my garden
Smelled of musk from Arden,
What so calm and what so pleasant,
She looked like palm n cream moon crescent.

I went near like a dopey
She jumped like a deer in spokey;
I gave her the berry which was grapey
She took it and told "you look like pompey".
She then stood and performed the Strathspey;
All the time with her was joyous n gay.

Quavering Poet.
9th Jan ’08.

I Quavered . . .

I remember that sacred dawn,
When I used to be a trimmer,
In the garden known for it’s primmer;

In the pond I just caught a glimpse of glimmer,
But in between, the flash was dimmer,
Cos there sailed a light blue skimmer;

When I went near it just moved in grimmer,
And I felt my blood in simmer,
It creaked " who are you oh Zimmer?"
And it went gagging and smiling when I Quavered,
“Oh! You swimmer, I am the HUMMER OF THE POET CALLED SHIMMER”



Quavering Poet.
7th Jan ’08.