…
can the candlemaker
blow the candles
on his birthday cake?
does the grocer’s daughter
know her onions
like her father?
how far does the farmer
plough the field
before the seagulls
then descend
& feast upon
the worms that squirm in furrows?
will the wicked winter wind
frisk us all
fruzzen?
has the haberdasher
dashed
down to the harbour yet?
do the bible bashers
worship badgers
on the sly?
when will the spring
sing a hymn
like a poem thing?
…
…
can the candlemaker
blow the candles
on his birthday cake?
does the grocer’s daughter
know her onions
like her father?
how far does the farmer
plough the field
before the seagulls
then descend
& feast upon
the worms that squirm in furrows?
will the wicked winter wind
frisk us all
fruzzen?
has the haberdasher
dashed
down to the harbour yet?
do the bible bashers
worship badgers
on the sly?
when will the spring
sing a hymn
like a poem thing?
…
…
custard creams? maybe
a fig roll or pink wafer?
perchance a chocolate hobnob?
an orio? we just don’t know
or broken bits of biscoff?
digestives still might
save the day?
a shortcake fit
for a jacobite prince?
a penguin we can
p-p-p pick up?
or bourbon – possibly?
( ? )
open the tin & see
…
…
but if it fits – it must go in
& so the rhymers stroke a chin
the breezes blow in figure eights
the bubblegum sun masticates
the clouds aloud, a bursting sky
the rest is but a butterfly
a post-it-note, the shepherds blah
the leopards here not spotted far
upon another pigeon day
the poets float & scroat away
a sort of door, a flowing so
a cattle cat & mornings glow
a certain number’s syllables
the stresses dee in intervals
between the dums & on she plods
& then she ends, you lucky sods
…
…
the skeletal remains
of yesterday teatime
a temporary bus stop
on the dark side of selene
two pumice pebbles
in your left espadrille
everything slows down – even
particle accelerators
the arse of king arthur
on your burnt english muffin
the clouds retreated like
a cockerel versus crocodiles
the b-road layby
in the corner of your eye
is gammy like last friday
since the crossword setter vanished
…
…
two spare buttons
round like burial mounds
cyclical discs
circular like logic
on the surface of an echo
stand the sentinel them
sewn like a seedling
tight threadwork
woven in for coming wars
& accidents & neither or’s
beneath the inside pocket
of your lucky green jacket
…
…
while the wise crow flies
in zig-zag directions
while onion dicers weep
& the resting dough expands
while the soap star dies
& the stunt man explodes
while occasional tables
pretend that they’re a chair
while your air guitar
gently plucks a scale &
while the curate’s egg
is scrambled for your breakfast
while temporary bus stops
disappear from here again
i’ll write another postcard
to your uncle rose in scunthorpe
…
…
climbing up snakes again
scaling green serpentine heights
life beyond the treeline
breathing in the black clouds
& sliding back down ladders
…
…
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 )
…
…
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
…
resarf poetry 