be proud… and suffer
hate… and you will burn in hell
repent and save the world
True friends in life, not family, who are of course the best. No, friends on the other side of the fence, the ones you learn to trust. The shame with the latter is they are the ones who hurt you the most. With dagger eyes, and metaphorically, carrying a knife to stab you in the back. Some friends, oft your best, have ulterior motives, tis to late when you find out, the tell-tale, warm blood running down your back.
a friendly hand
reaches out to help you
one in your pocket
The best friends of all I find online, virtual, could tell lies, but only in, or whilst writing fiction. As in life, I am not naïve, there are those who will upset you and me. There is a switch for the trolls, to turn them off, you just block them, those pitiful souls. Folk, who can be likened to sadists, gaining pleasure from inflicting mental pain, persistently, the baddest. Oh I’ve had a few with different points of view, but most oft we beg to differ, then move on to find new mutual pleasures. The offers I have had of help on all manner of topics, no stray hand in my back pockets. And when, or if I can, I reciprocate, it’s what one does for friends, returning favours. Just recently I have had loads of follows, new virtual friends.
you feel her breath
Just recently I have had loads of follows, new virtual friends, to many to mention individually, you know who you are and I thank you, if I haven’t followed you back, remind me and I will do. However the are a couple, no a few that I feel I want to mention: Willow, just because her name so reminds me of my best friend of all, intangible until I feel her breath on my face, mother nature. Now Jules, poetess extraordinaire, introduced me to Elfje poetry, and to top it all an image she’s has lent on permanent loan to me, and I like to think you all think the same as me, a wonder of nature, a swallow-tailed butterfly, I’m sure you’ll all agree. Along with another, one of my yesterday garden photos, a green bush cricket, female Aug. 7th 2017, and any friend of nature is a friend of mine.
to travel alone
you can see more of nature
walk with friends… see more
My muse, she knows who she is, twenty-four, seven on my shoulder, I can’t read her verse without replying in poetry, which I also so do when others, their words inspire me. Like all poets’, words are my addiction, nothing can be done, or said to cure me of this day tripping infliction, but affection will always be appreciated.
to follow evil
perish the thought… but some do
crimes against nature
© Mick E Talbot 2017/66