…
shafts of the dark stuff
cut like shoulder blades
unwritten light
brightness blights my way
tree bark troubadour
who could ever remedy
the memory hole
& the turnpike’s toll?
pain is biting now
mouthfuls of me
mothballed misery
is company & cumbersome
spirals spin in your
half arsed smile
funny like a sunday
mind your own farmhouse
rearrange faces
float, if possible
pickled onion underling
infinity chaffinch
…
…
you never ate the world
you barely ate a clod
sod all really, deary
but oh – you bloody moan
woe is me with bells on
cripes – end this tripe & write
a song beyond cliché
we all know feathers are light
& repetition can help
& repetition can help
but can be a distraction
but can be a distraction
so come on ducky, don’t suck
yesterday’s sour milkshake
your carton’s empty now
soon all your friends will purr
please see beyond your arse cheeks
et cetera beckons
…
…
the ice cream van man’s meltdown
the town crier’s tonsillitis
the french lieutenant’s wombat
the history student’s past
the pantomime cow’s trapped gas
the belly dancer’s ulcer
the night the contortionist snapped
how train spotters let off steam
the broken english teacher’s toe
the spanish onion dicer’s tears
the candlemaker’s waxen ears
…
…
a poem for the sleeping earth
another paper plane to crash
in morning light, the shooting stars
become a silent poltergeist
the garden sings in jangled keys
the compost heap releases gas
alas & bless the second ess
in s.o.s – then d.i.y
yes, bolt each hole – your hermitage
awaits – escape the winter’s gape
( please process when available )
…
…
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
…
…
smile if the rhyme flies
laughing there, the gasping air
five silver magpies
…
…
foggy glasses?
mysteries see
holey sweaters?
fall into me
hazy morning?
mutant evening
poltergeist smile?
soon be leaving
prosy clatter?
read aloud verse
happy campers?
give ’em cloudbursts
sweaty yetis?
blame the mothmen
empty bottles?
fill us up then
…
…
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
…
…
a few too many
bumps to the head
a few too many
a few too many
a few too many
bumps to the head
a few too many
a few too many
a few too many
bumps to the head
a few too many
a few too many
yes, a few too many
bumps to the head
& a few more
for good measure
…
resarf poetry 