bursting

~

bursting  (  gnitsrub  )





noses on a breeze

floating over pastures green

sniff a rose & sneeze


bubbles in the works

spanners, sand & sandwiches

languages as burps


rubber ducks & hens

squirms within a can of worms

whip the inkling's pens


apple bites & pips

fingers, flaps & butterflies

kitchen sinks & ships


rivers on the run

roaming in the gloaming's ghost

chase the fading sun


owls & howling moons

ladders, clouds & passage ways

bladders & balloons

...




























































 

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the first of frost

~

the first of frost  (  tsorf fo tsrif eht  )




a dove above, a sprite of white

a skein of geese, a host of crows


the winter creeps as summer sleeps

with speckled steps & twinkle toes


a crunch below - the frozen grass

is numbered up & bags of crisps


the soft is off, the mud is stone

a circle sings, a conker falls


a sort of door, the hinges creak

a blast of brass & monkey balls


the air's a ghost - so wear a coat

a pair of gloves with fingers crossed


& wander on - beyond the swan

a murmur in the first of frost

...




















 

a surfeit of lampshades

~

p o e t r y  ( 17 line read )



cheapskate poundland paper - bland & blank as snow

kisses shit & tight ink - black as murdered crows

elsewhere swans sing backwards - spits of feathered songs

as dream streams creep upstream - upwards then we row


time to meet thy maker - itch & twiddle toes

slice & dice an onion - briskly knead that dough

bang a foolish gold gong - prance & act that one

wake the ghosts for breakfast when those garden grow


bastard scraps & capers - scarpered as me flow

stick to myths & hearsay - not what folk may know

salmon leap for wisdom - avalon & on

quibbles pose as scribbles - squits of so & so


fruits of vaguely labour - flighty quill winds blow

barley mows & cobwebs - watch them as they glow

write some wrongs etc. where they should belong

as the rain pours buckets

fuck it, here we go

...



















muse news musings

~

muse news musings ( a poem that isn’t about muesli )




your muse is news - the paper cries

as tea mugs steam & low cloud stirs

perhaps the sun will shine my shoes

when light beams through in sudden bursts

i think out loud as pigeons sigh

& bookworms feast on dog-eared words

oh muddled daze of much ado

your gift was but a muddled curse


this much is true yet wild boar glide

as hen fangs rip & dead cats purr

perhaps the moon will mow my lawn

when lowly ink still finds the verse

to buzzard on as swallows dive

& robins bob - observe the birds

my muse is news - no tears weep i

thanks fuck & phew - things have been worse

...