Spirit

You'll find me where the river runs deep.
And where the frost is settling.
Where the wind soars in the trees
But I will not be seen.
I am the spirit
That goes from land to land
The spirit of an Angel.
The person who touches you
With gentle feather I touch you
Whichever way I look, wherever I turn
You are there with your wonder and care
You whisper so tender a word
And take care of my spirit.
The earth is still alive
And my spirit still soars.

Vicky Mc


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Labels: poetry, Vicky Mc

Ageism

You're too old
Don't you think you should cut your hair?
Don't you think you should dress more conventionally?
Don't you think you should try some make up to hide under?
Don't you think you need a face-lift?
Don't you think you need a boob job?
Don't you think you need a bum lift?
Don't you think you need to grow up?
Don't you think you need?
Don't you think you need to get rid of those lines?
Your age is showing.
Don't you think you should have botox?
Don't you think you should cover that grey?
Don't you think you should give up dancing?
Don't you think you should give up pubs?
Don't you think you should get a bus pass?
Don't you think you should give up your bicycle?
Oh! You look like a poet!
Don't you think you should go to Bingo?
It's almost time to give up who you are
And move to a flat or a bungalow even?

Vicky Mc


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Labels: poetry, Vicky Mc

A poem by Vicky Mc



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Labels: poetry, Vicky Mc