middle may not march

~

middle may not march ( hcram ton yam elddim )

red shepherd sunrise

warning the morning

      sights for sore iris

      & drooping bluebell

ends in beginnings

bring your own picnic

      pencils in cases

      pythagorean

glistening magpies

pied like a wagtail

      pipers inside us

      miming the high notes

playing the rhubarb

fooling the pudding

      pissing the parcel

      fluttering butter

spring is a fucker

further’s a murmur

      chasing a sun day

      whistle a willow

walking in warbles

spooling in cagoules

      piriton’s flashbacks

      sneezing the pastures

yes is a nomad

walk upon england

      blake is awakened

      so sod the machine

newton is sleeping

twofold’s a thistle

      beulah beckons

      & god save the green

eff it all

~

eff it all ( lla ti ffe )

further’s feathered fruits
fluorescent frogmen fisting
flapjack fatima

flapjack fatima
forty four farmers farting
farthings faraway

farthing faraway
face forever’s fledermaus
freyja’s flowers fly

freyja’s flowers fly
florists frisking fishmongers
friday’s fragmental

friday’s fragmental
fluegelhorn formaldehyde
fools flinging fresh figs

fools flinging fresh figs
falcons flutter fawnish flutes
further’s feathered fruits

cee the light

~

cee the light ( thgil eht eec )

catfish catalyst

cosmonauts canoodle

custard caribou

( author notes )

there’s a nasty rumour

doing the rounds

online at the moment

so to put the record straight

no

the queen of england

is not ninety six years old

because phillip schofield

is only sixty

plus he doesn’t look a day

over fifty seven and a half

– so leave it

rush owls

~

rush owls ( slwo hsur )

tawny owls racing
with the morning hare

quicker than lightning
striking the air

barn owls in fast cars
stuck in solid jam

screeching at the lights
& the broken down tram

eagle owls at taxi ranks
jumping the queue

barging passed the frogmouths
& the nightjars too

little owls in pickles
late for the train

snowy owls sleeting
dashing in the rain

cough up

~

cough up ( pu hguoc )

the fiver you borrowed
in crocodile times

last supper’s bay leave’s
& fish finger bones

the smoke that we choke
when london burns again

sputters of dust
in the attics of our minds

a persian furball
the wager that waned

twenty two guineas
& a shilling in change

the chewing gum you found
on the sole of your shoe

a thousand pound fine
for kissing a gnu

remnants of the ‘rona
scamdemic afterglows

for hardcore zealots
& big pharma jihadists

a tip for the waiter
instead of see y’ later

& a greeny green frog
croaking of tomorrows

poetry sale now on

~

poetry sale now on ( no won elas yrteop )

buy one haiku

get two free

      whether they’re wanted

      or not

sonnets come

with a fifteenth line

      & it’s gratis

      thank us later

pay with pens

or magic beans

      now accepting

      metaphors

if they’re not too

worn or ropy

      & they don’t smell

      pickled onion

bargain bins

are brimming sweetly

      dulciter

      so say the romans

scan the shelves

of ditty discounts

      vilanelles

      & senyru too

fifty percent

extra on limericks

      so seven & a half

      lines for five

odes are going

for a swansong

      everything that flows

      must glow

this poem is not

~

this poem is not ( ton si meop siht )

this poem is not
a chartist or a carlist
or an anteater
called tony

this poem is not
a goblin in a dress
or your long haired lover
from skegness

this poem is not
the severn bore’s tusks
or a scotch egg
bought from scotch corner

this poem is not
the code of a bot
seven – pee – three – four
eighty eight & apricot

this poem is not
scentless like hibiscus
or a werewolf under
brighter blue moons

this poem is not
your prodigal uncle
or your nan’s only fan
on only fans

this poem was written
in between sips
of toffee – which is coffee
crossed with tea

this poem is not
the missing link
available in beige
or the kitchen sink

– no chance

this is not a war song

~

this is not a war song ( gnos raw a ton si siht )

once upon a now
as a bullish fresian cow
pats upon the leas

like the gosling shite
of the proper gander walrus
they of frozen seas

them of muzzle up
back in season seventy
thousand three threes

treble eleven
with its potholes in plotlines
splitting like the peas

we are not a bot
tangled in the bramble’s arms
stiller than a frieze

children of the egg
fooling on beyond the song
of a swan with fleas

see the garden glint
glimmer in a mirror’s eyes
normalzzz snoring zees

blue is just the sky
yellow – just a buzzing hue
( feasting bumblebees )

blow the latest thing
like a pollen sneezing breeze
eat my bellend cheese