…
your advert goes here
the one about the holiday
in smug sunshine
or the latest wearable
that we’ll never wear – because
that’s n.p.c ‘reepy
or your miraculous pile cream
or chocolate flamethrower
whatever you wish
( dear mister e.washy )
to flog us all with next
…
…
a kitchen cabinet
reshuffle not
wetminster’s wazzocks – but
sortin’ out me cans
of baked beans for winter
…
…
we make their forms
from anagrams
a plastic pen
us spastic men
a head of road
the ghost in us
is mightier
than all your saws
the chain & buzz
we welcome shapes
the size of time
is not my spec
but welcome we
from other space
the doodles who
remember you
…
…
octobersome
a conker falls
& kills a squirrel
octobersome
horlicks or ovaltine?
open the post
octobersome
a postcard arrives
from barmy june
octobersome
the full moon resumes
so bury your headstone
octobersome
bonfires linger
on old tweed jackets
octobersome
deep heat cream
applied to your right thigh
octobersome
the lonesome ghost
of yer long lost cousin
…
…
i’m a parish councillor
& the birdie song
is my mobile’s ringtone
i’m a parish councillor
i cycle with no helmet
‘cos i play golf with death
i’m a parish councillor
& all these cardigans
were hand knitted by artisans
i’m a parish councillor
& once i had a scooby-doo
& hair like george michael
since is the prince
& cash in brown envelopes
& cloudy amber ales
as i’m a parish councillor
& one of my young granddaughters
looks like jimmy nail
yes, i’m a parish councillor
just helping out my friends
& giving something back
oh, i’m a parish councillor
& charity is me
& hallowed by my name
…
…
& underneath the wooden
beams – with us below
a broken watch is still
as risk-assessment accurate
as clocks gone wrong
so time is like a ghost
haunting creaky awnings
& talkative floorboards
shuffles in the night
shivers in me silky nightie
the tosspot laments
…
…
we became a tree
with skin as hard as bark
& squirrels upstairs
the woodpeckers peck
the winter storms test us all
with bellowing bursts
of blow yer own horn
but we’re the giants’ hatstands
– owls were here last night –
in the woodland’s bowels
in the here of fade away
waiting for that spring
to reboot like feet
even though we now have roots
in am-dram workshops
…
…
oh, hemorrhoid cream
when he’s just sixteen
autobiographies
written in their twenties
the mayfly that died
one sad day in april
christmas cards in june
it’s all too rather soon
…
…
u sually green pine trees
umber shades of rust
n umpties on the bbc
nuns in nunneries
s eagulls when the farmer ploughs
socks before each shoe
u mbrella if the rain appears
unicorns with horns
r otten apples & wasps
roses blah thorns
p lastic people on t.v
police dance the conga
r ight on cue like snooker
rotations on this cosmic egg
i cing on a bun
illium is sacked again
s quirrels in the park
sport distracts big kids
i ncase of sun – sunglasses
itches for each scratch
n ormies storm the pop charts
nob’ead narc’ influencers
g loves because the frost
gladder when pastoral
…
…
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
…
resarf poetry 