The Busker!

Why would nobody want to listen to his music

the passion that kept him going

from an early age he just wanted to be heard

then his parents could not see

the simple melody’s he wrote were so pure

words people would adore.

 

Never thinking he was special just wanting

everyone in his passion to share

begged for a guitar for his twelfth birthday

self-taught himself to play

his parents taken aback by such dedication

never-ceasing determination.

 

Without money to send him to music college

they could only encourage him

and at fifteen made a decision to be a busker

let the public hear the music

finding a spot by the bus station began to play

any nerves soon gone away.

 

The wonderful music and simple words flowed

and the crowds began to grow

those of all ages enthralled by the young man

on his own playing the guitar

confidently with a joyful style loudly singing

into their ears the sound ringing!

 

Happy now his songs with people he could share

not for money but unity he did care!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

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The Executioner!

He stood poised the axe raised ready to strike

no remorse in his cold heart!

As the sharp blade makes that final clean-cut

the cheers raising his adrenaline.

Making him proud of being the executioner

his sadistic nature began to stir!

 

High up on the cold stark and stained stones

towering over his latest victim!

His face hidden behind his sweaty black hood

emotionless at their pleading!

He had status yet was loathed and feared

by the people even as they cheered!

 

Many heads rolled under his term in the post

bringing excitement and tension.

A barbaric spectacle drew the large crowds

to watch the condemned die!

But too often when the cut was not precise

the blows were at least thrice!

 

The executioner now no longer plies his trade

in most cultures today.

That phantom vision still makes the skin crawl

evil eyes staring identity hidden.

A monster where there’s no chance of escape

as the condemned await their fate!

 

Hopelessness and despair on their final walk!

Death now their only salvation!

The Foureyed Poet

The Evacuees!

The days are always hectic in the capital

offices and shops were open.

Jostled and pushed along in the crowds

as a visiting couple found.

Coming to see an evening show by train

excitement hard to contain.

 

A rare treat to come to the city for a show

wanting to enjoy the sites.

Into the big stores prices high so to browse

having coffee and a meal.

It was still busy but the crowds had receded

down sides streets proceeded.

 

Here there were just a few people and pleasant

strolling at a leisurely pace.

Wanting to observe less commercialised areas

when in front were children.

Like any school party they walked in single file

dressed in clothes of an old style!

 

There was an adult who followed from the back

on the same side as them.

Stopped and turned lined up at the kerb to cross

but no cars were in the street.

But a strange an unnatural chill and no chatter

something that began to matter!

 

It didn’t seem natural to be near silent youngsters

this made them feel scared.

Each had a box around their necks it was familiar

war-time images came to mind.

Visions of young evacuees that were made to leave

this was hard to perceive.

 

Then as each pair reached the opposite pavement

vanished through a solid wall!

After they had gone it became warm and noisy again

heading back into the hub.

Glanced back then up a faded sign said to the station

they went on to their destination!

 

Both still unable to take in what they had witnessed!

 

The Foureyed Poet.