Poetry

the famished folk

…

a chicken that quacks
like a mallard up river

& a five pound discount voucher
for those already ripped off

no more limescale
slightly less wars

a christmas in spring
& easter on halloween

a.i jesus archetypes
curing bots ‘n’ what not’s

twenty more genders
& a duck that clucks

is all the big mob
with the big gob wish

so give the hungry crowd
what the famished folk want

…

although – the acrostic

…

a nswers arrived on postcards
apples fell on you
l etters never sent still came
line dancers went full circle
t he garden centre flourished
toadstools croaked
h illtop views subdued us all
harold burnt the hot cross buns
o pen sandwiches saved the day
offa renamed his p.c ditch
u kelelists struck a chord
unicyclists graduated
g olden pheasants shone
gnomes scratched noses
h ippos fled the mud bath
hellcats went to heaven

…

oh lofty one

…

your sunken afternoon
came far too sodding soon
if you’re a neutron star
then i’m a minor moon

your blissful sun kissed beach
has crabs & sinking sand
or so to sausage speak
your blossom zen is bland

i’d rather ride atop
a wooden rocking chair
than wander in the blank
of your phantastic there

where khaos only knells
a distant, milksop bell
but nature flaps ‘n’ kens
that all too feathered well

the haunted laughter in
the restless woods & that
the dawdles of the loons
the spoons, the stupid twats

is freer than the ice
the frozen plod in thy
the formless, yawning storm
behind your prudent eye

as panting pantomime’s
a field, a frog, a horse
another sort of muse
another obtuse force

…

god of odd

…

let there be ball lightning
phantasmic plasma

with a psyche of its own
– perhaps a cosmic fart?

or toads inside stones
croaking not croaked it

a showering of frogs
a light drizzle of newts

a cryptid in each
lake or quite large puddle

a double decker bus found
within a martian crater

a poundland discovered
underneath a megalith

from neolithic though
& so you scramble eggheads

dodos re-emerging in
sleepless suburbia

the puzzling is this
blizzards in mid-july

& still no solid reason why
so keep ’em all guessing

…

ingredients … ish

…

demeara sugar ( woulda-coulda )
( everything was ) butter ( dream )
half a pound ( not fifty p )
( know thy ) self raising flour
( live electrical ) currants
raisin ( expectations )
glazed ( not eyes but ) cherries
apricot ( toe ) jam
( there’s no such thing as
original ) cinnamon
( & other ) mixed ( up ) spice
( is there life on ) marzipan

( ? )

…

ooh err missives

…

the occasional tables
were mostly chairs that day

the sun dried tomatoes
were eaten overnight

the winter wren sang
of a southern hemisphere

the peanut butter warned us
‘may contain nuts’

mister holmes was constipated
all the green bananas

breathed with their gills
& feathered quills flew

with the dusters in a circle
over puzzled heads

when the scarecrows frightened
themselves in the mirror

…

try not to wobble

…

purr like a milker
moo like a moggy

breathe with intent
breath is a weapon

stretch & hold
think of englandia

try not to wobble
like a trifle in an earthquake

shake the extremities
bend your knees

touch those twinkle toes
with sausage fingers

lunge like a crescent
pose like a cobra

get that back back
where it needs to bumble

rearrange them wrongs
bee to buzz

down on the floor
baggy trouser that, y’ twat

& let this skeleton
sleep like a pebble

undo the doom
pause & then repeat

…