Break Point

When other couples break apart
it breeds confusion in the heart.

Were they being brave, or weak? And who
is also standing in that queue?

And if they could split, then might we too?
And if our answer’s no
                                               are we sure it’s true?

Hour to Kill 

I’ve got an hour to kill, she said.
Then spent it with a book, in bed.
I wish she’d bent my spine instead.

The Empty Chair

Looking at the empty chair
I wonder who was sitting there.

Where are the bums of yesteryear
who warmed that seat? They should be here.

Why did they choose to stand and go
somewhere else? Do they even know?

I’d like to meet them, one by one,
to ask them where, and why, they’ve gone.


Suddenly rain
puckers the water –
nipples in a pond.

Tom Vaughan

If you have any comments on these poems,  Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear from you.