Poems

fuss bother fuss

~

fuss bother fuss ( a true story about a twat )

…



i'm not the bats within your eyes

i'm not the facts that stick to lies

i'm not the stoat

within your throat

i'm not the thunder in your thighs


i'm not the wind within your whines

i'm not the string that binds your twine

i'm not what's flung

when songs are sung

i'm not your sadly absent spine


i'm not the boars up in your skies

i'm not the pork within your pies

i'm not the oats

that float your boats

i'm not your flaming butterflies


i'm not the war within your mind

i'm not the thoughts from your behind

i'm not the dung

upon your tongue

i'm not your phantom pantomime

...

boomerang

~

boomerang ( some ropy verse for a wet wednesday )

…



i am the spell that gave you hope

i cured the pox that got your goat

last boxing day

neath skies of grey

as holly wreathed & ivy moped


i am the mist that brought you cheer

last mischief night i fought your tears

with disarray

i fogged away

then come dawn's yawn - i'd ruddy cleared


i am those notes you sat & wrote

to uncle fuss & auntie dotes

then pancake day

flipped tricks your way

yet now i'm stamped in envelopes


i am that key you lost last year

on whitsun eve i vanished, dear

to where i strayed?

i cannot say

but now i'm back - i've reappeared

...

late july

~

late july ( another fucking poem thing )

…



it's pebble-dashed upon this day

it's this 'n' that beneath this grey

it's muddled socks so on i plod

as summer seeps & weeps away


it's fading clasps that clutch at straw

it's fledgling flaps - handbags at dawn

it's jumbled gist of in a bit

as ivy climbs & fungi spore


it's overcast & bales of hay

let's stick to facts as branches sway

& almost nod their sort of bobs

the crops concur as oxen neigh


it's mish 'n' mashed again once more

the river's smashed - last night it poured

when cellos pissed & now this mist

as swallows flee & autumn dawns

...

whether report

~

whether report ( some sheet )

…



it might rain cats - perhaps by noon

throughout this isle where roses grow

or chimpanzees or kangaroos

beware that bounce - mind how you go


it could dogs before too soon

down on the streets, upon the roads

& wolves as well & foxes too

as winds join in & howl for show


it may rain frogs this afternoon

or snakes or newts or loads of toads

or cockatoos - the sky's a zoo

so be prepared - no 'expert' knows

...

monday’s tongue

~

monday’s tongue ( a quatro-nonrick for all seasons & cheeses )

…




the car alarms as grey dawn slurps

on nettle tea as puddles chirp

an almost song

of dawdle on

as monday's tongue - it tastes the dirt


the cow remarks in terse excerpts

fluorescently as knee pads jerk

the blow blows free

as bus stops sneeze

& old goats float as leopards lurk


the sun is dark as acorns burp

incessantly & shepherds smirk

but still the swans

they slide along

with shiny ties & ironed shirts


the dog's all bark as curtains shirk

collectively yet blind perk

as bumble bees

they clutch at keys

so possibly - things just might work

( ? )

...