Claire Galpin Poems

A postman is a busy man,
Has lots of letters to post,
A postman really gets around,
From house to flat to floor.
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Fear that I am going to die,
Suffering from agony and pain inside,
Fear that I’m not going to live,
I’m being cut into very small bits.
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Its fun to make a snowman,
If only he could stay,
But when the sun comes out,
Our snowman runs away.
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I’ve a pain; I’ve had it for weeks,
I’ve a belly that gives out leaks,
I’m all mixed up, I can’t get on
Everything I do seems to be wrong.
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Theirs something about this house,
That gives out a spooky affect,
During the day, while kids are at play,
They give little thoughts away.
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I’m suppose to be in labour,
I’m only just in pain,
I’ve had Christmas without you,
It’s just not the same,
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I’m very upset indeed,
I’ve just lost a very dear Aunt,
It’s not something one can replace,
Or ever see again,
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Where did thou sting go little bee,
Under my toes or by my knee,
The pain thou hast left me…
Is unnecessary.
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Drugs is a thing,
You should never ever take,
It ain’t real,
It’s just a fake,
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Taking drugs is a dead end job,
Put your nerves on edge, when you see Mr Plod,
It’s not so very long, before your body starts to ache,
With holes in your brain, your life begins to break,
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