Poetry

spitting dusk

~

spitting dusk  (  ksud gnittips  )

…




the thicket bristles in the wood

as ghosts are gloaming in the leas

a muffle in the scheme of things

as breezes hum & ruffle trees


the grasses whisper in chinese

& chatter through the afternoon

until the fly that hovers spies

a sunken sun, a rising moon


& sitting in a sodden ditch

within the still - a poet harks

the tooting sounds, a screeching copse

& hoots abound - the owls are larks


so scribble i with squinting eyes

i'm spitting dusk in dimming light

i'm scrawling on as supper calls

i wave the day & kiss the night

...

 

thinking caps

~

thinking caps  (  spac gnikniht  )

…





left or right?

sky or down?

night or day?

beige or brown?


sleep or dream?

land or sea?

frost or thaw?

wasp or bee?


bark or bite?

black or red?

light or dark?

heart or head?


smile or cheese?

cheek or turn?

stick or twig?

kiss or spurn?


cooks or broth?

tin or can?

books or worms?

spick or span?


hills or moles?

clogs or shoes?

cats or dogs?

voles or shrews?


vale or tor?

hot or cold?

ticks or crabs?

brass or gold?


sun or moon?

run or hide?

thinking caps

- you decide -

...

 

saturday morning observations

~

saturday morning observations  (  snoitavresbo gninrom yadrutas  )

…



passing cars but nothing parks

eyes are tired but up with larks


floating in a duffel coat

sucking on a menthol sweet


daffodils & spots of frost

mirror men in empty shops


vomit on a cobbled street

broken glass & doner meat


scribbles spit within the bonce

swans upon the river mist


piss'eads sleep in bedfordshire

in an english country coma


hit the fields & breathe the breeze

underneath a silken sun


fuck the queen & hug a tree

birdsong in the bushes

...

 

midwinter song

~

midwinter song  ( gnos retniwdim  )

…



hymn in the morning

choruses calling

hear in the headland

banging a gong


here in the blearing

snowing a trumpet

ringing a springing

ding & a dong


snore a recorder

frost's a conductor

warming y' whistle

whetting the strong


fog on the fiddle

murmurs of drizzle

yodel til clover

bursts in a throng


bare in the woodland

curses & verses

sprinkles of crystal

whiting the wrong


mist on the lyre

wailing & higher

there by the fire's

where we belong


glowing & gliding

scaling & sliding

icicles chiming

midwinter song


bees in the bumbles

strumming a summer

mince as a minstrel

stringing along

...