~
ten men who should be the next prime minister ( retsinim emirp txen eht eb dluohs ohw nem net )
…
chris packham
morrissey
david icke
john lydon
william regal
wallace & gromit
david dickinson
ainsley harriot
richard d. james
paddington bear
…
~
ten men who should be the next prime minister ( retsinim emirp txen eht eb dluohs ohw nem net )
…
chris packham
morrissey
david icke
john lydon
william regal
wallace & gromit
david dickinson
ainsley harriot
richard d. james
paddington bear
…
~
ante scriptum ( mutpircs etna )
…
rise before the lark
wander in the darkness
when the snarks & goblins
dance upon the leas
see the mooning moon
marvel at those arse cheeks
beam beneath the stars
or a sleeping shroud of cloud
climb a pillock’s hillock
smoke a banana skin bifter
sing within the bonce
hymns from nature’s notebooks
salad shit & shopping lists
whatever floats your boatswain
laughing if it rains
plod a sodden path
home before the normalzzz
rise & shite again
neck five pints of coffee
light a milky tealight
double drop two aspirin
with a spoonful of junior calpol
scratch a rabid thought-form
grab a pen – & then
…
~
re reverb ( brever er )
…
i, the one man tribe
with me gammy eyelet
~
spy a testing tide
turning like a coat
~
stitches come undone
salvia is smoking
~
snitches see the lightning
pillars topple up
~
bolting blue is screwed
salted earth is firmer
~
terror is a tool
like an april fool
~
laughing as we glow
face the day’s vanilla
~
bee the three in we
hiding with myself
~
bumble of a morn
when the hedgerow’s calling
~
then the other sun
spins in my direction
~
flotsam floats away
as the jetsam scatters
~
songs beyond the swan
aches & pains – begone
…
~
another bloody spring poem ( meop gnirps ydoolb rehtona )
…
spring a song of sixpence
spring for your breakfast
spring for your supper
take these springs – & fly
~
spring like a bird
spring like a telephone
spring me to sleep
like a spingamijig
~
cash is spring
the spring of the castle
the spring of the jungle
spring ’til come what may
~
the spring is dead
long live the spring
it’s not over
’til the fat lady springs
…
~
the wandering earth ( htrae gnirednaw eht )
…
plod the soaking, sodden bogs
passing ponds of croaking frogs
noting in this ode’s refrain
april’s reign is back again
she’s the queen of squelching leas
belching pastures, dripping trees
shaping may & greening hills
bubbled broths of puddle spills
fools in pools of welkin waz
rousing flowered razzmatazz
skipping as the rivers flow
roaming on this mud below
trudge the fudge of gargled sound
larking on the bouncing ground
sing of spring & autumn fruits
clods upon your walking boots
…
~
uncle valerian ( nairelav elcnu )
…
he of feathered pillows
fluffy like a pancake
faces the weird
with a chamomile beard
spies xanadu
in coleridge’s laudanum
jung in liverpool
a poe within a poe
flies like a mole
in a jet black ket-hole
gathers up lavender
& milks the meadow poppies
plucks the greenest hops
from september’s gloaming hedgerows
brews a steaming cauldron
of arctic root tea
reads the turgid dirges
of dead romantic poets
counts the endless flocks
in a magic dressing gown
under lemon balm suns
in blue lotus skies
ginsengs a lullaby
& spins me to sleep
…
~
fruity hoopla ( alpooh ytiurf )
…
a garden in a spin
& music is the juice
the vegetables deduce
a loose banana skin
a damson in distress
a spanner in the bowl
the land of lemon’s soul
a golden apple press
a y’olden hymn again
the seasons in a song
a drum, a plum, a gong
a little sip of rain
a dance within a jig
the lark is lopping loons
the moon’s a tin o’ prunes
& couldn’t give a fig
until the seed is done
the deed is sewn & so
the grocer’s children grow
beneath a citrus sun
the daze is summer’s clime
& autumn’s orchard air
the couplets in a pear
the raisin in the rhyme
…
~
bed to back ( kcab ot deb )
…
good morning
it’s earwigs
or ear wigs
a wiggle
your eyebrows
are highbrow
like low cloud
plus caffeine
the lemon
in melon
a twister
of tonsils
a fracture
the scattered
a lemur
a femur
the garden
is carpets
but crystal’s
the riddle
a pencil
plus paper
the badgers
& crosswords
a kettle
is steaming
like wyverns
this evening
a wiggle
or earwigs
it’s earwigs
good morning
…
( author notes )
please bear in mind that
the adverts on wordpress
which often pop up
in the middle of a post
are nothing to do with me
& pay me eff-all
( i’m not a fan either )
…
~
shrovetide tidings ( sgnidit editevorhs )
…
old steam roller
with a dodgy handbrake
ran over a poet
on the day of pancake
…