photography

otter’s pockets

~

otter’s pockets ( 32 lines of wobble )

…




basket weaving - bastard evenings

dog in clover - eyes in sockets

apples bobbing - pears are peeling

thoughts are swimming - mind myopic

windows smearing - kettle's steaming

multiverses - that's the tonic

poles are flipping - ice is screaming

unplugged t.v - otter's pockets


toast is smoking - piffle's calling

hares are boxing - merry easters

walls are cracking - dawn is snoring

palmate newts are hailing caesars

dozing moments - rarely boring

cheeky monkeys - bloody rhesus

glitter patters on the awning

biblical say saul & peter


gold is hiding - fools are gleaming

there in may was lucy locket

rivers weeping - streams are scheming

foxgloves, bluebells, valves & sockets

night is bright when day is dreaming

verse is birds - bees in their bonnets

tennis ankles - crickets teeming

spitting feathers - brown clouds - top shit


bollocks itching - mice are roaring

multitudes in millimetres

ears have noses - walls are talking

lollipops & lotus eaters

winks are winging - boards are scoring

well dressings as balance teeters

fingers crossed we'll kiss the morning

pyrrhic wins shall not defeat us

...

critique-fodder

~

critique -fodder ( a short poem about motherfuckers )

…




is this a poem?

how about now?

milk the wild thistle

& tickle the cow


is this a poem?

squint as you read

stroke your chin bristle

& wobble your knees


is this a poem?

what do you think?

blow your tin whistle

& lick at the ink


was that a poem?

how did it fare?

did it ring fizzles

& why should we care?

...

as & &

~

as & & ( 120 syllable read )

…




as the brown fox leaps the green flea

& fuchsia clang in chimes

as the chainsaw hugs the oak tree

& the blank verse starts to rhyme


as the salt pot shuns the deep sea

& the cyclops leads the blind

as the ibex ride the rough scree

& the faux pas meet landmines


as the feather fights the mild breeze

& the evening blackbird chimes

as the cockerel clucks at chickpeas

& a mist falls in the mind


as the bonnet irks the wild bee

& the millstone feels the grind

just plod on & keep it lively

wanders of another kind

...

that dream again

~

that dream again ( some sheet )

…



feathers for fingers & cat flaps on mars

wanders on venus & clogs in hot cars

florists on calpol & vikings in jars

badgers are strumming on bastard guitars


bishops in crystals & whale song in shoes

bagpipes in black holes & yetis in trews

monday in sunday & tuesday in lieu

saxons are flaxen to addle the muse


light in my left hand & shpherds in bras

strangers in mangers & dogfish in stars

troughs in the peakland & barn owls in bars

march hares are marching through barmy bazaars


voles in old coal mines & cowslips in moos

darkness in sundials & clocks in cuckoos

pole vault the scots pine & tickle the shrew

what does it all mean?

we haven't a clue

...

the downpour

~

the downpour ( some sheet )

…



i thudded on your leaky roof

i lurked within your murky drains

i squelched so in your shoes & boots

i tap danced on your window panes


i bore your garden many fruits

i drowned your rat - delayed your train

i pleased your duck, your swan & goose

as i ruined your cricket game


i soaked your laundry with my juice

i pissed upon your aeroplane

i quenched your trees - your beech & spruce

when i tickled your weather vane


as any pillock could deduce

with half their brain - i was the rain

but now there's sun - i'll soon vamoose

i'm silver puddles on your lane

...

soz etc.

~

soz etc. ( an extension of sumit from yesterday )

…


ripples of ivy & buckets of rain

sunday is thursday so much of the same

cloaked as the oak tree

but hope is key

ghosts in vague ruins with baffling chains


tardy drystone walls & bruises on arms

fresh scabs on kneecaps & clutched luckless charms

still as the fruit bowl

alive as the foal

wobbles in woodland & annals on palms


dallies in valleys & taps on the brain

bat flaps of evenings as rats race up drains

bare as the bony

as dead as the sea

brisk as the spring lamb - as deft as the flea


weasels in haystacks & barnstorms in barns

supper for breakfast on patchwork hill farms

quiant as the maypole

or pockets in holes

loons in old mill towns with tales in their yarns

...