It's not funny
a poem by Phillip Quigley
This writer keeps showing up. His poems are planting themselves throughout my comments, messages, and notes. At first I raised an eyebrow wondering who he might be and how he had found me. I quickly become entranced by his sweet, delicious prose which tickled my fancies while they ran deep, deep, deep into my soul. Layer upon layer invades my senses and awakens a desire to do and be better. I liken it to how I felt when I began reading Shel Silverstein as a child. I hope in meeting Phillip Quigley here, you may feel the same. Oh what a delight and awareness his lines have already brought me.
They appeared out of nowhere and now I can’t imagine them not being here interwoven with my writing.
Enjoy!
It’s not funny
Philip Quigley
It’s no longer funny
Honey.
When the bees fly away
And look for a land
That’s more
Sunny.
A Sun that has been
replaced.
With a world
That’s wet and dreary.
When we hear the hollow
Words of politicians
Then it leaves me.
Weary
Weary of the mess
That we have agreed to
Without giving a thought
To you
To me
To the Bee
You and me
Are the pawns
That they play?
On the table
While all the
Politicians
Compose their unique
And hollow
Fable
A tale of many cities
Torn apart
With their ditties
Of the promised land
That they plan
With a wand
And slight of hand
But it’s not funny
Honey
Because we all miss the
Beat
Of the leaders drum.
As they promise us
A treat
And yet we vote
With our feet
While the mind
Skips a beat
(if you can’t wait to read more
you’ll find him here!)
He has left me a poem in my notes as well. Such an interesting way to communicate, which I enjoyed! Thanks for sharing!
Beautiful