The Button

It’s little things that push,
the buttons that say “don’t”,
you always think you’ll know,
but you really ever won’t.
There’s just the hiss of vacuum,
as the air goes rushing out,
when the button touches circuits,
that say “now it’s time to shout”.
And after it’s all over,
and the button has popped back,
you’ll wonder what just happened,
as you angst upon the rack.

© ceenoa

P.S.  I am absolutely fine, this is not me writing about how I feel just now (although I do admit to it sometimes happening to me).  No, this is just how my rhyme-brain works sometimes!   I was just peacefully playing a game of Solitaire on the computer and this demanded to be written.  And, so I did.  I don’t want to push the button!

Reduced Fraction

***My brain just won’t let this one go, it nagged at me today, (don’t be so wordy, make it cleaner, simpler, distil it down) so I had to rewrite it again.  I promise, this is the last time, a variation of three is more than enough.

out there,
you may be.
Walking around,
the unknown part,
of me.

© ceenoa

P.S. even as I typed it, the words changed again – this one is slippery!

If you went down to the woods today

If you went down to the woods today,
did you walk in sunshine or stand in the shadow?
If you went down to the woods today,
did you dance in the leaves or recline in the wallow?
If you went down to the woods today,
  did you walk on the wide or step on the narrow?
If you went down to the woods today,
will you go back again tomorrow?

© ceenoa

Autumn Leaves (2)

What is it like?

What is it like,
to live inside your heart,
with one way walls,
so you see out
but I can’t see in?

I’ve visited once or twice,
but I never saw
anything of you,
you were all packed away.

One day I will surprise you,
with your self all scattered round,
and find out who you really are.

I wrote this poem about 34 years ago, at the grand old age of 17.  I still like it today.

“On This Day” Repost – The Ginger Jar

Facebook has one good feature, (don’t get me started on how many BAD features it has), in that it gives you the “blast from the past” in it’s “On This Day” feature.  I enjoy seeing what I was posting years ago, and today this little poem caught my eye and I found myself thinking “that’s not too shabby”.

So, here’s a little something I posted on 21 March 2014.

The Ginger Jar

It wasn’t where I left it,
I’d looked on every shelf,
“I would swear, I left it there”,
I muttered to myself.

It wasn’t in the cupboard,
I only found a sock,
it wasn’t in the garden
buried underneath the rocks.

I looked under the table,
but I couldn’t see it there,
I even took the cushions off
each and every chair.

“Where could you be?”, I said to me
– it didn’t answer back,
and just “because”, I had a look
inside the old spice rack.

It was nestled at the bottom
of the musty ginger jar,
I tipped it out, then dropped it,
but it didn’t roll too far.

I picked it up and held it,
and told it what I thought,
that I’d be lost without it,
and my days be without worth.

I twisted it and pushed it,
put it back where it belonged,
for a day without some humour
is a day that is too long.

© Ceenoa

Bored – A piece of Wednesday Whimsy

Perhaps I should apologise in advance for the following …..hey, I was bored!

I know I not supposed to say it,
but sometimes I get bored,
and really, when you think about it,
it is a stupid, phonetic, sounding word.

Am I a board, a piece of holey wood,
that’s been nibbled on by borers?
Or have I been stuck, by razor sharp tusks,
of a pig, eg., bored by a boar?

The boar who was bored,
of his forest in the wood,
thought that if he had a board
he could build a bed,
to sleep on at night,
but he couldn’t find one,
under all of his trees,
and his boredom grew,
so when he saw me,
he thought he’d give me a chase,
then he caught me and bored me,
and quite liked the taste,
“This boring is good”,
thought the boar to himself,
but if he’d have asked me,
I’d have said I wasn’t impressed!

© ceenoa



I am a  squishy slug
on the barrow of your life,
you picked me up and flicked me
which wasn’t really nice.
I agree that I do not
have much to offer you,
yet still I have a purpose
just as you do too.
In case you might be wondering
what purpose that might be,
it’s to leave the silver slime trails
that appear haphazardly.
There is a secret message
if you learn to read them right,
in simple terms it reads
you should respect my life!

© ceenoa