~
goes saying the as ( sa eht gniyas seog )
…
time to feed the unicorns
& face the candle’s bright
morris dance on mercury
& see the carrot knight
fight the cabbage dragon or
paint the piper’s door
kiss the vicar’s knicker drawer
& bid you all goodnight
…
~
william pitt the younger ( regnuoy eht ttip mailliw )
…
ti-dye artichokes
badger avant fireguard
dopamine donuts
…
~
a bits of a poemz ( zmeop a fo stib a )
…
the bus was late
like henry the eighth
( who died
in fifteen forty seven )
ten passed two
& eleven went twelve
( washing machines
live longer with calgon )
vans car by
but cars van faster
( they should have seen it coming
– the tay bridge disaster )
phil collin’s middle names
are david & charles
( there goes godot
in his souped-up milk float )
sixteen down
in the cryptid crossword
( a badger & an otter
crossed with an owl )
according to guiness
the oldest known woodlouse
( was aged eighty seven
& two months – in dog years )
cats can’t dance
the macarena backwards
( & the blackpool tower
is taller than saint paul’s )
why this trivia?
yonder is a songbird
( shitting on the vicar’s
peter storm cagoule )
…
~
william pitt the elder ( redle eht ttip mailliw )
…
foghorn forestry
fossilising friday’s face
fruit fly funerary
…
~
i buy my pegs from the gypsies ( seispyg eht morf sgep ym yub i )
…
the sailor went to the tailors
for his tights & an evening gown
the sailor went to the tailors
he paid five shillings & a crown
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
i buy my heather from them too
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
but i wrote this poem for you
the doctor rode on a donkey
the spinster span a life of grey
the doctor rode on a donkey
& sang this song upon his way
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
i buy my heather from them too
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
but i wrote this poem for you
the maidens milked of a morning
the dawning thought she had a choice
the maidens milked of a morning
& the town crier lost his voice
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
i buy my heather from them too
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
but i wrote this poem for you
the bishop bashed – with a hammer
a rusted nail upon a post
the bishop bashed – with a hammer
& swore he saw the holy ghost
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
i buy my heather from them too
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
but i wrote this poem for you
the miller wept in a windmill
the farmer slept in a barn
the miller wept in a windmill
so a minstrel minced a folk yarn
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
i buy my heather from them too
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
but i wrote this poem for you
the baron danced with a badger
the soldier fell into a well
the baron danced with a badger
as the clocksmith polished his bell
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
i buy my heather from them too
i buy my pegs from the gypsies
but i wrote this poem for you – for you
oh, i wrote this poem for you
…
~
bullocks in the graveyard ( daryevarg eht ni skcollub )
…
through the rotten fence
where the ash branch fell
on soaked oak posts
after indra bolted
came the storming hordes
of cloven hoofed yoofs
tagged like wrong’uns
out on parole
mooing for freedom
in the doldrums of june
cheeky fresian bastards
hared upon the greenery
fucking up the grass
chomping on the flowers
in the crystal vases
as the vicar legged it
larking like tomorrow
is a distant cousin
as the farmer napped
in the haybarn’s loft
death row’s fugitives
next month’s bourguignon
patted with aplomb
on your true love’s headstone
…
~
god save the beans ( snaeb eht evas dog )
…
god save the runner beans
broad, butter, bag or green
god save the beans
kidney or haricot
chick, lima, magic – oh
baked topped with grated cheese
god save the beans
…
~
may salad ( dalas yam )
…
wisteria whiplash
polecats & ribbons
goblins on the pier
currant bun sunshine
laminated lambs
nosebleed photograph
lockjaw vortices
cobweb telephone
mister whippy licks
first class stampedes
treefrog interlude
two green finches sing
hay field hologram
mange tout, brute-ay?
juju cleamtis
catnip knickers
…
~
dox ’em all ( lla me’ xod )
…
marmaduke mcmarzipan
six crisp crescent
leamington foot spa
pantheus wilson
eighty eight smegma lane
summer settee
susan supernovaton
two bubblewrap avenue
sheep shear shire
gavin magnetron-jones
no fixed adobe
– possibly a ghost
…
~
why the nuck fot? ( ?tof kcun eht yhw )
…
singing sea shanties
in the east midlands
building snowmen
in the amazon jungle
looking for smiths
in a chinese phone book
playing games of twister
with a goblin – on the moon
living in an igloo
on a solar spot
spoonerising on – yeah
– why the nuck fot?
writing the tripe
of another offal pun
shaving the hair
off a dolphin’s head
russian roulette
with your shadow at noon
all make more sense
than bugger all instead
…
resarf poetry 