…
the strangest of birds
a bunt out tealight
bite the stifled brightness
south of this north
when the west shakes
one lozenge at a time
as pop flattens
the cotton clouds growling
& her feathers rain down
…
unwritten warning
…
your quill is running out of ink
your quill is running out of in
your quill is running out of i
your quill is running out of
your quill is running out o
your quill is running out
your quill is running ou
your quill is running o
your quill is running
your quill is runnin
your quill is runni
your quill is runn
your quill is run
your quill is ru
your quill is r
your quill is
your quill i
your quill
your quil
your qui
your qu
your q
your
you
yo
y
…
refreshments
…
gasp between pauses
see the steamy kettle mist
poems in the pipeline
when the welkin opens up
pour another mug’s worth
…
lines re the laughter in the woods
…
horned like the morning
striding on crunches
cornflake flooring
feet twig beneath
us two fools
in matching green cagoules
seeking a glimpse
of the nymphs or sasquatch
once grey rooftops
gave way to cloaked oak
there where the elfin
cracks us up like popcorn
robin hood’s hood
the lord of misrule’s old skool
in this cosmic copse
in his leafen universe
…
a few topics i’ve never read a decent poem about
…
hayfever, hatstands
the golden horde or frogspawn
nor haley’s comet
…
pop can man
…
yes, my carbonated mate
is best served from the fridge
slurp him high on chemicals
he’s coloured artificial
been bubbly since bright youth
& still slightly uncouth
he’s mister fizzle out
( he’ll be flat in half an hour )
…
transient scribbles
…
climbing up snakes again
scaling green serpentine heights
life beyond the treeline
breathing in the black clouds
& sliding back down ladders
…
uncle susan’s diary
…
gathered like a teatime
guaranteed a deep, deep
sigh & an eye-roll
over the clover leaves
from the greenest pasture
gone like a cuckoo
toodleooh then
since wore more pringle
& rediscovered ovaltine
since was slowly down
a grainy midlands town
vast glacial cracks
until one magic june’s
rainbow revelation
rebooted, regenerated
life on the patches
after the wife ran
off with the milkman’s cousin
todger intact
thank god for that, though
( free online to read )
…
i stand on the bandstand
…
once upon a picnic
lemonade in hand
cheese & pickle me, please
if the which is sand
pardon then & marbles
as the peach is canned
daze a haze of gravy
in the greenest land
time is like the blossom
when the day is blue
we became a statue
speckled i & you
thee, the gleaming milksop
’til the pale is tanned
i stand on the bandtstand
but am not in the band
…
six tips for budding poets
…
~
insert the right word
or the meaning is lust
~
no one’s impressed
if you rhyme rain with spain
~
ignore the current thing
& do your own bollocks
~
readers should be passengers
upon your paper plane
~
fuck the dead greats – mostly
as most of them were wankers
~
proof read before
it’s in the pubic domain
…
