scrawling’s calling

~

scrawling’s calling  ( a  rhetorical question in disguise ( as a banana skin ) )

…



wake the dog up, ring a friend

tell a stranger - inform them

tell the ladies then the men

tell the buzzards, tell the wren


tell the farmer in his den

tell his sheep, his cows & hens

tell your barbie - tell your ken

tell the dinar, lek & yen


tell little john, tell big ben

find a mirror - tell yuh sen

shout at khaos, psst at zen

tell green bottles - yeah, all ten


tell the big-eared folk of fens

tell that real world & pretend

scrawling's calling in the glen

bring a notepad

& a pen

...

 

you have my harp

~

you have my harp  (  a  ?  )

…


as day turns dark, birds merge with bats

as twilight flaps its blackish wings

you have my harp - i want it back

don't fiddle with

my well-strung strings


as great moons loom in vague blue skies

loose change is but my total wealth

i am not rich, no spoils have i

you have my harp

go pluck yourself

...

the voice of the county

~

the voice of the county  (  s o m e  o ‘  t h a t  –  y ‘  t w a t  )

…




bakewell tarts & cable cars

corrugated stable barns

field shelters - hills with farms

sheep & ghosts

fleecy yarns


soothing bowels & wershrew howls

dark satanic old mill towns

thermos flasks - tawny owls

bubble bath

snazzy towels


much ado at bussy queues

polished shoes & muddy boots

some dog shit - john is blue

hoppy ales

blurry hues


drystone walls & sore eyed highs

salt earth, landlocked mackrel skies

o.s maps - wheres & whys

je suis x

so say i

...

 

with half an onion in my pocket

~

with half an onion in my pocket  (  a  p o e t r y  o f  a  p o e m  )

…




breezing down the lanes

with half an onion in my pocket

wafting as i go

my shiny stainless steel spokes


gleaming here today

as eyeballs hang on in their sockets

weasels wave hello

& so too do the stoats


bees buzz through my brain

with thoughts of yellow jerseyed comets

dandruff versus snow

those off-beat bicycle notes


trees leave unexplained

as brakes say nay - that pace won't stop it

upward's crawl was slow

but everything since floats

...

 

talkin’ rhubarb

~

talkin’ rhubarb  (  p r e d o m i n a n t l y  p i f f l e  2 0 1 7  )

…



talkin' rhubabrb, stems & stumbles

apples rotten? mustn't crumble

pips & slippage, turns & tumbles

extras, custard, mumbles - jumbles


bloody mondays - ganders flustered

scissored ribbons, colonel mustard

in the vestry with the buzzard

anne of cleves plus mother hubbard


roman nosedives sniffing petals

stinging nettles sing of kettles

dust is swirling - no snow settles

stick to script & wing a medal


trust no pastry or pacemakers

dodge the jam man, buy a paper

start a puzzle, finish later

add some years then meet thy maker

...

an abandoned poem

~

an abandoned poem  (  a  p o e m  )

…



an abandoned poem

no poetry stirs

just letter impressions

where once there were words


perhaps it was madness?

perhaps they're all dead

or fire breathing gypsies

& that's why they fled?


an abandoned poem

no owls here or ghosts

or overgrown ivy

on pillars nor posts


perhaps it was sadness

or wolves prowled along

then feasted all meaning

oh, what here went wrong?


an abandoned poem

with i on my own

the dust here is quiet

i want to go home


so hurry now hurry

leave this place untold

& when you reach safety

then tell not a soul

...