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oh woe is me!!!
have pity, cruel
and heartless world.
the sky now fallen.
my sadness, unfurled.
i sail,
upon a ship of abject
misery.

i sit at the helm
and weep
and cry
and moan
and mewl,
til, my eyes have
run out of
wet, n' salted fuel.

now, those who know me,
are wondering why,
me, who writes happiness.
is having a hysterical cry.

if i can but,
bring myself,
to tell you why,
you must be generous,
of heart, and not say fie.

my big, catastrophe,
bigger than you know.
is a death, in the family...
they have lingered long
and been, a dear friend.
but this morning i went
to see them and they
where gone!!
and oh dear me!
what an embarassing end...

it is,
sad,
beyond,
sad.
i cannot tell a lie.
here its is....
in all it's badness

*my jeans done died
i had this pair of favourite, faded blue,white jeans.
had them long enough, that
they had come back into fashion....had them longer than my husband, my present job.
they knew me,
so well and comfortable too
i went to wear them this morning, as a pick me up treat....
and lo and behold,
they fell apart, at my feet
the crotch,
had frayed away
and if i had worn them,
my smalls and privates, would be saying a cheeky, g'day....
so i am sad
and an old friend has departed.
but at least
it happened in private
and not at work,
when i farted....

i tonight,
will give them,
a burial, in the duster bin...
and then drink to them,
with tonic and gin.
fare the well,
my faithful denim friend
consider this to be...
your heartfelt eulogy.
Let us be
Two birds
sitting on a power-line
watching the sun setting
And all the gloom
Witnessing the colourful sky
And the bloom
You fly away
I call you back
Conceit and vanity
is what you lack
Very far
From the world
And all it's reek
Love in hearts
And truth
on beaks.
A poem written for my bestfriend. You'll always stay there in my heart.
she was like fire
on a war path,
destroying everything
in sight.

but he saw her
as the light
to his darkness;
the bright sun
that brought daylight,
the fire
that re-kindled his
long burnt out
candle wick

and he prayed she would
never leave,
fearing another
never-ending
darkness and winter
 Jun 2014 Manda Clement
nichole r
he crams pills down his throat
two of them
every night
just so "he won't feel the pain"
even though he wants to hurt himself

m o r e  t h a n  e v e r.
 Jun 2014 Manda Clement
nichole r
poetry is the only escape from the nightmare we call living.
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