Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
Life
Life Transient as a wet tyre track on sunwarmed tarmac. Fleeting as the first snow of winter. Evanescent as electricity in a battery. Transitory as the twin towers. Ephemeral as early morning dew. Short lived as a shooting star. Cursory as a nod from a stranger. Invaluable as a Picasso painting. Dear as a diamond anniversary. Inestimable as insects on earth. Precious as your new born baby. We have only one and it melts in the sun.
“Cursory as
a nod from a stranger” Great line amongst many. Love this poem Hobbo!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Tom!
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙏🏼
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes… the mystery. I was listening to a podcast today interviewing a psychoanalyst who thinks he’s found the source of consciousness. Pretty interesting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The human brain is fascinating…
LikeLiked by 1 person
beautiful and plangently expressed !
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you John🙂
LikeLike
Rather love it when you go all serious. Smashing! Can I say that? I mean, not being Brit and all?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Smashing is, well, smashing. Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
All of these things yes – except maybe the last one. I’m coming back as an eagle 🦅
LikeLiked by 1 person
…and I am coming back as a black labrador!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Who writes poetry?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Of course!😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Brilliant musings on the multi-faceted cuts of life’s jewel. It’s that type of poem that needs to be re-examined and discussed over coffee. Life as a cafe stocked with other like minds. You’d be there, for sure. Going to the chap book.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Karen! I love the cafe idea.
LikeLiked by 1 person