Let's write a sonnet -actually sod it...
Poetry
an underestimation
I’m slightly bemused by space,
it’s bigger now
than I think it used to be.
& each & every time
I peep out from the blinds
it’s expanding.
A Poetical Warning
All too oft’
like a bat-saturated loft,
poetry
can contain
the following………
…
Nuts, dust
& latex gloves.
–
Flash photography
with loads of strobes.
–
Italics, nasty prangs
& sudden-BANGS!
–
Bad language indeed
when there’s no shit fuckin’ need.
–
Half a shandy & an Aspirin,
I know a mate
who knows a goat
who has a cousin if you’re askin’…
–
Plus some other stuff that’s vague
& the bubonic plague.
Enjoy…
Another *u**ing Poem…
This is a post
from a poet who knows
no difference
between art
& arse,
sorry.
on blue plastic bags
If blue plastic bags
keep blowing in your face
indoors.
Then close the blinds & windows
& listen as the wind blows
calmer.
June Confusion
Confused in June
& up to no good,
trying to spot a ghost orchid
in a haunted wood.
Whilst waiting for the cows to stand
& straggling the rain,
this woodland shelter helps for now
but still these crucial conundrums remain…
If it’s something that you don’t need
can it ever be a bargain?
Is God really dead
or did he fake it like John Darwin?
Do them electric eels
ever give themselves an electric shock?
& why am I the only person I know
that intentionally wears odd socks?
Answers on a postcard please,
I’ll reimburse you for the stamp.
https://www.museumwales.ac.uk/rhagor/article/ghost_orchid/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Darwin_disappearance_case
There’s Got To Be Another Way…
I love clementines & tangerines
I’ve often got ’em in,
the segments taste delicious
but I struggle digesting the skin…
(glug)
Is the opposite
of swimmingly
drowningly
or sinkingly?
(glug)
Exile Limerick
Some minds get confined to the attic,
where they’re now allowed to be odd & erratic,
because here folk play the spoons,
& rub their face against balloons,
& still get surprised by the static.
ay up me redux
1.
Well I’m afraid a blank page
is always the first stage,
so grab a pencil or pen
& get jotting again…
2.
Part two,
a time to pause & review,
to re-examine the splurge
& to make sense of shed words
-yeh, fuck it, that’ll do…
3.
& lastly it’s part 3,
eccles cake & mug o’ tea
then sod it
& leave it edit free,
plus ignore all household chores
& instead nip out for early doors,
because it’s well easy
this poetry malarkey…
Reet,
cheers…
resarf poetry 