~
cryptic crossword love ( evol drowssorc citpyrc )
…
oh, my osmosis
in a satellite town
– perhaps a pickled plum?
i long for the touch
of your chartered accountant
gargling milk
in a rabbit hutch
& i daydream of kissing
your sweet peruvian
bothering owls
in a haunted sauna
like an anagram
of sixteen down
without the evening gown
but fate is a gibbon
eating orange omelettes
inside a giant blue shoe
& the day’s a sailor
skipping on the pier
with a priestly earwig
– not you
…
~
glimpses of the future thing ( gniht erutuf eht fo sespmilg )
…
five thousand pounds
per pyramid tea bag
six hundred k
for a pint of semi-skimmed
eight million dollars
for a sliced white loaf
two billion euros
for a pen & pad
tarquins super glued
to the dark side of the moon
silver spooned loons
egging on the puddings
a pigeon will shat
on your hat – next wednesday
wheelbarrows of cash
for a pack of jammy dodgers
…
~
alternative names for autumn ( nmutua rof seman evitanretla )
…
harvest fest’ after party
conker season thing
michaelmas terminus
summer’s sequel
the goosebump months
winter’s prequel
goose bugger off time
mizzletide stuff
the chestnut episode
dawn of the parsnip
fungal slumber
old shuck’s stomping ground
wellingtons & cobwebs
the maypole’s downfall
the fog days of shudder
green leaves a’ leaving
ghosts a go-go
…
~
oooooh là là
…
do they eat their chips
with frog’s legs
– not fish?
do they wear a beret?
& bicycle
in stripy jumpers?
are their boulangeries
on their high street?
perhaps a chemise
– tabac or piscine?
are their homes
lit by chandeliers?
do they refer
to their anus
as a tooosh
not in the doldrums
of derbyshire
but over the border
in ashby-de-la-zouch
( ? )
…
~
veg out ( tuo gev )
…
goodbye broccoli
goodnight carrots
laters potatoes
adieu sweetcorn
spinach – in a bit
( y’ tit )
& so to bed, beans
hasta la vista – leeks
see you anon, swede
nice one turnips
peace out – peas
au revoir parsnips
fuck off sprouts
…
~
humphh ( hhpmuh )
…
righting a song
in the wronging of along
hymns in the head
with y’ leaden legs of dread
trot like a fox
or a monkey with the pox
paws at the lights
as the even’ breeze – she bites
stop ’til it’s green
& the now’s a bouncing bean
gurn at the bend
with a poem what y’ penned
burning a page
in the book of endless beige
down in the frown
of a pickled onion town
then with a pen
& a rubber duck or hen
squawk in a line
or the local swine will fine
wait in the queue
but the queue won’t wait for you
dressed for the rain
but the rain – he never came
…
~
g.o.a.t berry ( yrreb t.a.o.g )
…
shining on the vine
hangs old king alfred the grape
– grapest of all time
…
~
goss dross toss ( ssot ssord ssog )
…
have you heard the latest?
the poet down the road
is worshipping a hedgehog god
as per so & so
he of touching trees
muddy trouser swagger
fodder of the bots
phantom of the hunters
the spanner in a raincoat
the scaper”s goat – g.o.a.t
is picking rowan berries – there
& talking to a toadstool
where the air is sylphid
& singing songs within
instead of talking to
the likes of i & you
we, the weaseled tropes
with ghosts in our software
…
resarf poetry 