Poems

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

...

with notes

~

with notes ( a little story-poem of some truth )

…



with notes of rome in flames - aglow

& oh those vandal so & so's

we ponder on - the dog & i

as air it cools - a soft breeze blows


with notes of ludwig's joyous ode

in search of ghost tales of the gloam

or gold - as ever - treasure hides

passed private drives where ivy grows


with notes of mars & jericho

& curtain calls for west end shows

in still we plod with but a sigh

as snails leave trails of slimy slow


yes evening roams - the sun is low

& soon to vanish down below

the hills but on the other side

from where this dawn it yawned

hello

...

apples ‘n’ pears

~

apples ‘n’ pears ( some apeth of daft for friday etc. )

…




the apple may not swat the goose

or pantomime or fill your boots

the pear may not outrun the hare

or abstract mime as flesh or juice


the apple may not kiss the moose

or basket weave or owl a hoot

the pear it may not answer prayers

or cloak the oak or loop the spruce


the apple may not throw abuse

at bats & toads in bespoke suits

the pear it may not glance in glares

at edge-less squares then eye-up newts


the apple may not brass a toot

or pirouette or lute a flute

the pear it may not scare the mayor

but nonetheless - they're both still fruits

...