photography

the writhing process

~

the writhing process ( a poem for monday )

…




there's gravy trains & paper planes

& flows that go against the grain

there's hidden truths & massive lies

there's monkey minds & reptile brains


there's sparks of hark & drizzle plods

& gifts from gods - despite the odds

there's mumbled dreams & inner seams

perchance to cream - you jammy sod


there's heaps of sheet & this 'n' that

& sundries too plus bric-à-brac

there's inky squints & smudgy ghosts

there's detour roads & sticky facts


there's peaky troughs & muddled bursts

& gifts within each jumbled curse

there's wriggled squirms & squidgy ink

until swans sing - there's bastard verse

...

bee a buzz

~

bee a buzz  ( another poem for sunday etc. )

…




bee a buzz & beat a drum

waft a wasp & whale a song

like a pike get on your bike

mime in hum & on we swan


scale the snake then lime the scum

snail a trail & fox the den

mouse your holes & post your goals

moon the sun then cluck the hen


mam in tor then glib the glum

clean in sweeps to wake to the boar

gap that mind then round the wind

stone all plums & snort the spores


clap a hand & thunder thumbs

spew in shrew - you feel a tit

hide those crows right up your nose

spin in spun - crack on with it

...

 

i spy july

~

i spy july ( some seasonal jism )

…




so june is dead etc.

the grass is wet, the river's dry

a foxgloved time & fox cubs too

there's buttercups & butterflies


so on we plod - us plucky sods

the squinting sun in blinks it shines

on mossy walls as nature calls

on corncockle & columbine


the swallows swoop in nifty loops

there's nettle stings where thicket thrives

there's fattened lambs - the grazing's good

there's cowslip herds & thistle spikes


the woods are cool - woods always are

then gleaming in the valley wide

a golden sight upon the first

i spy july

& six magpies

...

muffle-buggered sky thing

~

muffle-buggered sky thing ( a poem )

 

…




yes, it's squidgy in the riddle

said the lemon to the lark

as the catnip purred a lion

& the dogwood wolfed a bark


as the vicar played the fiddle

& the spiders spun an ark

neath a muffle-buggered sky thing

as the morris men turned dark


as the acorn chased a squirrel

up a flagpole in the park

& the marquis in his marquee

showed some aardvarks his birthmark


aye - it's vim-stuff in the fizzle

said the fishwife to the shark

oh but change is rearranging

it's that never-ending spark

...

don’t shout at cows

~

don’t shout at cows ( some piffle )

…


the toast has flown

the hittites have fled

when wednesday fell

so thursday's brown bread

then friday came

& torched down the shed

so marmalade

is clutching at shreds


the gatling's jammed

the milkman is dead

the eggs are vile

& scrambled our heads

it's all my fault

the jenny wren said

don't shout at cows

shout at me instead

...