~
also i write love poems by dame barbara fartland
…
also i write love poems but they're sentimental so you'll never read them & they're slightly mental other poets bother but then they always bore me write some silly bollocks tell a silly story i think when i read them all without really caring i now know you're dead dull so thanks loads for sharing also i write love poems oh sweet heavens above but i'll spare you that much that my dear is true love ...
it's all quintessentially picturesque & quaint warm brush strokes the lord doth paint thatched cottages for villages lush meadows all around a light breeze & birdsong are oft the only sound every reverend cycles on the green - wicket keeping cake sales & ginger ale a chocolate labrador sleeping inevitably green hills generically idyllic begging for mass murder or failing that a picnic ...
the river & its ripples its dimples its wrinkles its jiggles its wriggles mass trickles of dribble from little to middle to mighty wet riddles of slippery wiggles of rivery ripples ...
pen check pad check all hands on deck ink check Petr Čech treaty Utrecht Quebec Aztec discotheque chicken neck madness cay sera add words et voila ...
yes some are blatantly secretly flemish whilst others hobble-plod like that 3-legged dog which you pass some mornings or occasional evenings some supplicate cress some cling to the ceiling the darker ones they're hell folk they're born with 13 elbows further some last a second some stay for the week then some have swollen glands & others wandering hands - yes every day's unique ...
i'm a pillar of the community the council named a bus stop after me to honour my extensive good r.e local charities then in 2012 a special luncheon was held where the mayor shook my hand - DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM? ...
Weekend witches & Beltane pagans once yearly-nearly ramblers & blue moon dabblers. Wedding drinkers & funeral weepers occasional tables the occasionally unstable. Hy-Brasil & déjà vu a solar eclipse or the Phoenix, of course too. Brief glimpses of HELL & scarlet pimpernels plus fuck-it-that'll-do rhymers - bloody part-timers ...
Muddy corduroy trousers on a trip into town keeping me safe from urban clatter & hate protected by the Earth put your faith in its brown you are my amulet my evil eye - bus home - survived ...
You 1st tickled my fantasy in History when I was sweet-lucky 13, as just when I thought that shite-squat could top the Vikings we went all Third Reich like - nice 1 Mr. Green. You were a true Aryan beauty with an air of mystery who had a thing for sweaty Austrian men, yet we're divided by time & capsules of cyanide but oh mein Eva Braun if I could love you then ...
I went through a yellow phase jaundice & lemon haze, but it appears to be clearing because people change Yes, people change like the seasons -obviously, an energy saving L.E.D light bulb eventually or larvae but pleasantly -so bear with me x
resarf poetry 