…
poetic on paper
papyrus or ostrata
~
half a yard onward
spring is only dozing
~
strike three times
with a branch or large twig
~
whistle greensleeves
then lick both ends
~
listen by the wayside
may contains nuts
~
after the gathering
blathering songbooks
~
batteries included
glue guns fully loaded
~
enter the author
exit the aether
…
…
plus extra petals
syntax, saddle wax
speaking of shapes
croaking crocus
almost sing hymns
eight hundred pigeons
gatherings of steam
clutching vapour’s trails
stainless steel moon
spit shoonerisms
tea spoon sputum
blue room ceiling
sixty six turnips
peeling & revealing
while giants snore
dawn redwood
snorkels, trucks, rucksacks
nut sacks & scratching
catching & hatching
tenfold the troubadours
chapter seventeen
…
if you were a bus
i’d sit on your back seat
& rest my weary arse cheeks
but i’d rather you sat on me
i’d gaze out of your window
in between crossword clues
& see the town vanish
the grey becoming green
it’s leafier each blink
as blue rinsed biddies natter
on what to have for tea
& who should win strictly
i’d ride within your frame
& test your braking speed
the tyres & suspension
like a proper fuckin’ wrong’un
who should be on a register
& tagged for good measure
we would sweat in august
but warm a dark december
on the long road home
in the evening’s golden gloam
& then i’d ring your bell
when our stop approaches
…
~
hey, kurzweil ( liewzruk ,yeh )
…
~
robots will never
smell the petrichor
wafting up nostrils
from orgaicoil soil
~
stirring a song
for the hinterland’s band
– no, not the robots
the metal or flesh
~
too busy writing
poems online
& shining illusory shoes
~
walking the dog
on the crust of the moon
~
waving the flag
of the latest bot-fad
~
robots will never
catch athlete’s foot
from a paraplegic
fatso
~
badgering on
with a blister so persistent
she even switches heels
…
~
he of brighter bicycles ( selcycib rethgirb fo eh )
…
i’m a breathing pantomime
sings the scribbled ink
with some super glue
stick a pube or two
he of brighter bicycles
an easter egregore
all is throbbing thickets
& toads upon toadstools
rabbits not rubble
the catch is in the double
trembles of treble
as hares box the air
hespero & i
wandered of a morning
on the road of romans
quarrymen & drovers
time is like a light
in the dim of thought
nought is but an egg
scrambling the smeg
weaver of before
in the mirror – rayed
‘fore the dawn’s middle eight
& chorus to fade
…
~
frost property ( ytreporp storf )
…
a yawn of fog & out the yard the daze is dark, the moon is starred as mountaineers we face the blear the puddles - rocks, the river's hard the grass is stone - a crunch is heard a groan of bone but not a bird is hymning in this misted dim us idiots are undeterred we slug a trudge - the dog & me as winters limbs are doddery when penguins prance & mammoths dance a rummage in frost property as poets squawk of summer's gold as circles churn - this song is old a frozen roam & then back home the kettle calls - it's fuckin' cold ...
~
bird mathematics ( scitamehtam drib )
…
two blue tits plus three green finches times five red robins minus six brown owls equals ten ruddy ducks & a thieving bloody magpie ...
~
world whirr 5 ( a p o e t r y )
…
cloud-shroud balladeer
brontosaurus broccoli
cowpat caravan
goldfinch weather map
sugar snap pea shepherdess
stoat throat-singalong
goshawk gathering
mother earth & morris men
bus pass brussel sprouts
ten squid tentacles
anchors of a wanker war
quarter past wednesday
...
~
dribbing drabs ( m y r h m e s a r e w e i r d e r t h a n y o u r s )
…
bee the beat of dripping taps scissor kicks & snipping snaps summer daze & sputtered sups ducking stools & paving cracks rue the spew of splitting slacks river mist & missing maps finger food & buttercups whirling pools & swirling traps phase the hay of tipping stacks laser rays & slipping grasps serpent tongues & monster trucks thundered crumbs & otter scraps fight the bite of nipping gnats iron gloves & whipping slaps sinking stands & plunder struck tiger stripes & lion naps span the sand of swinging sacks pigeon piss & shitting gasps candle quacks & rubber flux what-the-ducks & spitting wax tread the stead of tripping tracks feathered blends & flipping flaps scrambled legs & dangled up phantom pens & dribbing drabs ...
~
autumble ( a p o e m f o r . . . )
…
the fields have fledged - their crops have flown
& hog's the hedge as feet they roam
the barns are calm & lofts are hay
as trees they swirl & fade to crone
the hills seem green - the mares are roan
& hares they snore as spores are sewn
the dogs are frogs - the cats are strays
as clouds they shroud & mouths they foam
the ponds are splosh if rocks are thrown
& bird's the blur as earth's the tone
the doves are rooks or so folk say
as wraiths they stir & ghosts they groan
the land is sleep - the stones are bones
& nights they creep to fight the gloam
the plod is fog in socks of grey
as songs are sung & winds are blown
...
resarf poetry 