…

twenty nine letters
in the anglo-saxon alphabet

twelve buttercups in each
square foot of the garden lawn

thirty four chapters
to read in treasure island

thirty six black keys on
a standard grand piano

five white stars
on the flag of christmas island

seven magpies
in an untold secret

a billion rovers
in the doggo phonebook

ten green bottles
in no one’s favourite song

& fifteen lines of sigh
in the baker’s latest sonnet

…

( author notes )

i hate all sonnets

i find them annoying

& pointless

f.t.r, so y’know

…

…

annoyingly oblique
like the two-a-penny prose
in poetry review

& other such squirms
the winter wind won’t sing
her lips are sealed frozen

the calendar cannot
recite in rhyming cantons
the cobwebs of tomorrow

i long to gaze & gawp
like a curtain twitching darren
at the form of each future

the line work & notation
the back, the sack & crack
to choose a brighter upgrade

& not more bland ahoy
as the wank in your angst
is the ants in your pants

yet the kitchen sink
the custard creams, the third crusade
the golden age of steam

the councils & the demes
the cotton clouds – if sung aloud
& we’re all backwards now

…

…

bardic is a barn
rusty in places
shelter for the sheep

mangles on their breath
wurzels & turnips
rustic bumpkin songs

rise before the sun
glorious each morning
gladder than priapus

trudge a lonely so
jill up a molehill
jack in the greenhouse

yawn a gold before
far from the town where
steve became eve

where the blue haired croon
of albion’s erasure
with a tea towel scarf

fly like a white dove
from the warring words
of their melting pot mouths

bee another breeze
in the dilly of the valley
& the dally of time

…