Poem

( a green spell )

~

( a green spell )

( s o m e – g r e e n – m a g i c )

…




then i am green

i come in peas

sick parrots &

the holly's leaves


the broccili

eyed monsters see

this martian piss

reverend green


jack in the green

his grocer - ies

yon clovered four

or maybe tea


those jealous seas

astroturfed treez

a crystal heart

emerald beats


plus some algae

graham plus e

et cetera

cress lettucely


the stalk of beans

oh rosemary

that dragon shat

then i am green

...

the real archbishop of canterbury

~

the real archbishop of canterbury ( a true tail not tale )

…




i am the real archbishop of canterbury

ignore those imposters you see on t.v

the robert runcies & the justin welbys

they're scheming you senseless

conniving they be


i've never been to canterbury actually

my clothes are no robes - black tee shirts, tracky beez

i'm unsure on god but i know she's a she

( yet )

i am the real one - come flock

follow me

...

a solo effort

~

a solo effort ( some verse of )

…




yet when the moon doesn't help

& them chuckles hide in puddles

as it's too puzzled by itself

when them words are all befuddled

as the day's gravel 'n' gravy

hence then the birdsong's gone confused

& so grey's the may in maybe

pray tell us

what then do we do

( ? )

...

the return of spring-heeled jack

~

the return of spring-heeled jack ( a true tale in a poemz-formz of )

…



i saw him leap from roof to roof

he does exist - there goes the proof

that wicked cloak & bouncy boots

it must be he - who can refute?


gravity's strong but he prevails

still nimble now & no less frail

gasps of wonder lie in his trail

& frightened types like lucy scales


sightings have re-spread - towns, cities

keep them eyes peeled - it might be he

a true folk legend there to see

in the twenty first century


remain cautious - he might attack

perhaps he slept? let's stick to facts

it's been a while but yes he's back

it's the return

of spring-heeled jack

...

as the crowbar flies

~

as the crowbar flies ( if in doubt – bother a cousin )

…



there is movement in the city

through its streets, pavements & jitties

there are staggers in the valley

where them dawdlers dilly dally


in the town criers are shouting

certain thomas's are doubting

in the woods squirrels are waltzing

as pole vaulters are revolting


there are echos trapped down old wells

as the purists practice old spells

as the tortoises are rushing

& burst sewage pipes are gushing


& then there's a pond on fire

the bogged down stuck in the mire

plus all those missing bits to find

as the crowbar flies

in my mind

...