…
all of mange tout
is the flesh of my lord
he is the green
in a foggy winter soup
the chick in y’ chana
& the holy frozen garden
resurrected ghost
when reheated
behold the king of fritters
praise sweet flower thou
the rehydrated christ
in y’ pot noodle
is my mushy messiah
the universal pulse
religion of peas
yes, god in every pod
…
…
unscattered ashes
catch the last drift home
bones unbroken
all’s unaching
nor a restless tingle
when breakfast calls
take another gulp
swallow like a summer
while the tealights dance
dunce in the mist
nouns becoming verbs
shine like the plough
pow & kerblam
power nap slang man
index left
cleft fist this
voles, vowels & barn owls
scanning your barcode
say cheese & sneeze
odin sesame
dawn chorus horus
…
…
poetic on paper
papyrus or ostrata
~
half a yard onward
spring is only dozing
~
strike three times
with a branch or large twig
~
whistle greensleeves
then lick both ends
~
listen by the wayside
may contains nuts
~
after the gathering
blathering songbooks
~
batteries included
glue guns fully loaded
~
enter the author
exit the aether
…
…
yesterday’s grey duvet
warmer than before
meanwhile the bean stalks
starlings each dusk
bugels & badger musk
pencil in if needed
but we’d rather be
floating like a ghost
answers on a lamppost
…
…
rewriting fire
fly like plasma balls
~
up before the farmers
farther than we think
~
further with each murmur
murky is the key
~
then with an itchy knee
in between storms
~
headless once more
like pompey on the shore
~
pour more coffee
& sneeze three times
~
tables & swivel chairs
where is the pen?
~
hanging over damocles
somewhere there’s
~
airing cupboard doors
ghost white transit vans
~
closer than before
iron thy underpants
~
anthill billies
dance in bright futures
~
goats are the g.o.a.t
music is your glue gun
…
…
stick it
to the mango
…
…
plus extra petals
syntax, saddle wax
speaking of shapes
croaking crocus
almost sing hymns
eight hundred pigeons
gatherings of steam
clutching vapour’s trails
stainless steel moon
spit shoonerisms
tea spoon sputum
blue room ceiling
sixty six turnips
peeling & revealing
while giants snore
dawn redwood
snorkels, trucks, rucksacks
nut sacks & scratching
catching & hatching
tenfold the troubadours
chapter seventeen
…
…
instead of thunder
humpty dumpty fell
from the walls & lived
so no clouds clashed
just a bouncing egg
…
…
baroque in a frock
the devil’s chord calls
clammy jazz hands
on the brow & forehead
rafting on the rafters
mizzle in your underpants
milk ‘tache mishaps
gaps between each gasping
catching the drift
of a woodland in slumber
perhaps the bishop lied
& monday is our oyster
a postcard in the post
from the younger dryas
the morning was a hag
& darkness was her nostrils
the clouds still growl
if we try to feed them fudge
u-boats & u-bends
whitsun is distant
the tide is a highness
‘pon a giant’s throne
as us cabbages
pen in awkward rectitude
rectories rattled
’til the battle was a draw
we became the ivy
on a battered garden fence
gland ahoy & balls
the kettle still sings
…
…
for all the rice in china
& the teachers sniffing glue
for all the burp in pardon
& the sneeze in atishoo
for all the fish in finland
& the zebras in the zoo
for all the gnomes in gardens
& the domes in xanadu
for all the sage in derby
& the waves upon the sea
for all the haze in maybe
& the mist in mystery
for all the crook in coppers
& the madness of cuckoo
for all the tarts in bakewell
& for all their pastries too
…
( author notes )
for those that don’t know
bakewell is a town in the derbyshire dales
& a sweet tart – called a bakewell tart
comes from there too
plus sage derby is a cheese
but i’m not a fan of poets
explaining everything in their author notes
so let’s leave it there
…
resarf poetry 