Evening,
like the afternoon like
but closer to night,
a dwindling
& mingling
of light time & dark
-a nightingale
hark!
No, wait,
it’s still a thrush,
cogitations at dusk
…
Evening (x 2)
It’s also a greeting
plus a well worn metaphor
for the-elderly-&-permanently-fleeting,
a twinkling
of not too long
this glistening song
-oh shit!
I’ve left the iron on
…
The whim changed direction
without a single objection,
nor sole interjection
or mournful string section
…
& I followed suit
without refute or dispute,
another care-free pursuit
we might be en route
…
If not, it’s still a detour
there might be swings & slides plus see saw,
which easily shits on free fall
but will we remember what we saw
?
…
The whim changed because it could
as I suspected whim possibly would,
& no one tried to stop or trap it
maybe on a whim though
-they probably should
…
?
My other magpie
is actually a weapon,
& my other cuddly kitten
is bursting with venom
…
My other amoeba
is fucking humongous,
my other symbiotic best mate
is a parasitic fungus
…
My other dear seal pup
craves human flesh,
& my other elephant
fearlessly stamps on mice
–
my other, my other
but not me
I’m nice
…
x
Let’s up the ante
& sing a sheep shanty,
& celebrate the wooly residents of this land
the ewes, the rams, the tegs, the lambs
…
We’ll tell of former flocks
& crofts & licks & troughs,
thus glorifying the ovinely amazing
the never complaining them, steadfastly grazing
…
Yes, let’s up the ante
& sing a sheep shanty,
as other folk might join in, having travelled from afar
– by the way, there’s only 1 lyric & it’s ‘baa’
…
A hedgefuck is born the brain's gone hawthorn, a typical sticky wicket in the enchanting guise of thicket ...
We’re weir peering
we’re peering over our local weir,
& lobbing in sticks
& empty packets of crisps
& watching them dissapear
…
We’re weir peering
which may seem weird or non-gay queer,
I know it’s not for everyone
but soz, it’s our idea of fun
so there’s need to stare or snear or jeer
…
As we’re only weir peering
I’d blame the men that built this weir,
many years have come & gone
but their weiry legacy still weirs on,
we’re weir peering
–
3 cheers for weir
…
A fairly nondescript inanimate object
in a fairly nondescript dream,
to be honest it was quite blurry in places
yet maybe you’ll understand what it all means
…
There were bits of bits of bits there
& fragments of parts of stuff,
& possibly some other things
but hopefully that’s enough
…
It was definitely a Wednesday & I met Nessy
& I think I might have heard the Sirens sing,
plus my old Chemistry teacher dressed as a French maid
-cuh! 1 of these nights we’ll be able to record these things
…
A dawdle & a plod
through this & not,
with focus-off
plus hope & what
…
Knock, knock – who cares?
The bullocks stare
& fencing hares
-look, over there
…
Whilst herons stalk
a pheasant talks
of serpent’s forks
yet pleasant walks
…
A dawdle & a plod
through this & not,
as clover buzzes
& focus unfuzzes
…
Dark Arts & Witchcraft Fairs
there’s 1 next Tuesday
& I’ll likely see you there
…
If it’s cthonic then they’re on it
anything sinister
they’ve got it
…
Yes be it Evil & Satanic
they are well stocked
& ‘ll probably have it
…
No curse tablet too nasty,
no sorcerer’s hat too tall
–
it’s in the church hall
…
Good Heavens
(!)
………………………………………..
Transparent is the greatest of all of the colours, it's never ever dazzly lest piss off the others ... It lets them all shine through it covers not nor smothers, Transparent is the greatest of all of the colours ... Now where's it gone ? ...
resarf poetry 