…
pile cream
the financial times
vaseline
chocolate hobnobs
ten pence plastic bag
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Author: resarfpoetry
tomorrow’s list
…
milk on the turn
maybe a gale
tartan tea towels
an out-of-tune kazoo
two mandarin ducks
postcards from mars
custard creams & hobnobs
a robot penfriend
hopefully sunshine
denser bones
& spring by november
…
today’s list
…
crunchy peanut butter
three silver bullets left
toe nail clippings
a pheasant feather boa
two waxwings
a waxing gibbous
odd socks again
rain by five
twenty trombonists
eighty eight cobwebs
hashtag doggerland
…
yesterday’s list
…
blue between grey
lumbago again
apple juice bladder
six carrion crows
should have bought batteries
all but ten across
codeword sorted though
a handful of dates
two missed calls
no death threats
& a big bowl of cornflakes
…
the inevitable september poem
…
september, september
soap sud flakes
eight fat ladies
fish paste sandwiches
september, september
bailing twine laces
time for reflection
your anus in a puddle
september, september
the ombudsman’s chin
a mastiff of mole hills
plus v.a.t
september, september
almost maroon
& yet tangerine
the bishop’s new pubes
september, september
solvent-free glue
deep green anorak
the second punic war
september, september
an anderson shelter
breakfast in a bath tub
& rose hip hedgerows
…
who, where, when, why, how
…
who?
saint swithun
where?
the derbion, derby
when?
last tuesday afternoon
why?
to buy some thermal socks
how?
with magic beans
…
an alternative phonetic
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avocado
bobbins
catkin
doggerel
epithet
foghorn
galanthus
haiku
idyll
junket
kipper
lanyard
michaelmas
nymph
oxytocin
pencil
quango
rhubarb
sylphic
typo
u-bend
vole
wanker
xanadu
yeti
ziggurat
…
what is the wind?
…
air in a hurry
gusts in a huffy rush
the nobody that frisks us all
even monkish nuns
the to & the fro
of this cosmic egg in flow
currents over seas
the never ending sneezes
east then west
poltergeist-esque
the wheezes & the whispers
of sylphid country cousins
why the flag dances
& slates fly off roofs
why leaves scatter
& hats leave heads
the breezes & the gales
in mister beaufort’s scale
is a scentless flatulence
from the gods’ bottoms
who never follow through
just spin mills
…
don’t go wilkos
…
don’t go wilkos
wilkos – don’t go
your little tea lights
brightened up my winter
your white paint
kept my kitchen shades of
a ghost’s cotton socks
your spinach seeds
sprouted each spring thing
in my humble greenhouse
your triple a-batteries
kept my torch glowing
you birdseed
fed the robins breakfast
your own-brand bonios
kept tails wagging
your tulip bulbs
bloomed in me bed
your memory sticks
stopped me forgetting
your square pegs
fitted in me round holes
my heart’s where
your hardware lies
your tubes of sealant
stopped me cracking up
so don’t go wilkos
wilkos – don’t go
…
twenty twenties stylee
…
no, i’m not a natural poet
but i identify as a poet
& i’m saving up
for the surgery
…
resarf poetry 