Oh shit - I’ve just lost fifty quid betting
United would beat City. None of it:
Despite today’s theme of not forgetting
The Munich air crash back in ’58,
United were punished, turning up late,
And scoring at the end to lose 2-1.
Please, Chelsea, beat Liverpool; don’t create
Further financial losses later on!
I’ve put twenty down on the Blues, who’ve won
Most of this season’s games one-nil. Wasting
This valuable Sunday alone. I hate
Such wasted time, more than the wasted sun.
But what can I write when I’m not sleeping
At night? Only my diary sonnet.
Sun 10 Feb 2008
Friday 31 December 2010
523 - Oh my goodness
We feel half-animal and half-divine.
We’re not, though: we are simply animal.
But, you say, what about when we are kind
To strangers, or the fight against evil?
Our art, such as in the Sistine Chapel,
Our science, maths, or mechanic design?
But we don’t all have this level of skill,
Only a gifted few, and those few pine
For reward, recognition, all the time.
The kindness could be just weakness; the kind
Of folk you get in church are old and frail,
And need golden rules. Evil is defined
By the strong, they who interpret God’s signs.
So please, let’s not cover our eyes with wool.
Sat 9 Feb 2008
We’re not, though: we are simply animal.
But, you say, what about when we are kind
To strangers, or the fight against evil?
Our art, such as in the Sistine Chapel,
Our science, maths, or mechanic design?
But we don’t all have this level of skill,
Only a gifted few, and those few pine
For reward, recognition, all the time.
The kindness could be just weakness; the kind
Of folk you get in church are old and frail,
And need golden rules. Evil is defined
By the strong, they who interpret God’s signs.
So please, let’s not cover our eyes with wool.
Sat 9 Feb 2008
522 - Just bad friends
Her tantalising tarantulas creep
Along my chest, back, legs, but circumvent
The centre; no, they won’t come near; they keep
Respectful distance till this dance is spent.
She’s fretful, hands open and then fists clenched;
She’s lying, sighing, crying in the night,
In the darkness looking magnificent,
Should have drunk less, lacking the will to fight.
The creaking peaking, fortunately slight,
The voices croaking, water sipped; might sleep
For an hour or two, time to both repent
The tender eyelids, torn from silent flight,
Remembering work’s call. And so we sweep
It all under the bed, act innocent.
Fri 8 Feb 2008
Along my chest, back, legs, but circumvent
The centre; no, they won’t come near; they keep
Respectful distance till this dance is spent.
She’s fretful, hands open and then fists clenched;
She’s lying, sighing, crying in the night,
In the darkness looking magnificent,
Should have drunk less, lacking the will to fight.
The creaking peaking, fortunately slight,
The voices croaking, water sipped; might sleep
For an hour or two, time to both repent
The tender eyelids, torn from silent flight,
Remembering work’s call. And so we sweep
It all under the bed, act innocent.
Fri 8 Feb 2008
521 - Nights of wine and poses
Just five hours’ sleep after the poetry gig;
Then off to work, a relaxed atmosphere.
The sky was blue, the winds blew too, a big
And wintry gust over Manchester. Here
We are, a group of friends, and all sincere
In helping each other’s low confidence
To grow, to overcome the natural fear
Of performing in public, innocence
In one way, worldliness in a new sense
Of pride. Hiding our fears on a coat peg,
Tonight we attended an art show, near
The riverbank, looked at the pictures. Once
A few glasses of wine are drunk, we egg
Each other on, our thinking not too clear.
Thur 7 Feb 2008
Then off to work, a relaxed atmosphere.
The sky was blue, the winds blew too, a big
And wintry gust over Manchester. Here
We are, a group of friends, and all sincere
In helping each other’s low confidence
To grow, to overcome the natural fear
Of performing in public, innocence
In one way, worldliness in a new sense
Of pride. Hiding our fears on a coat peg,
Tonight we attended an art show, near
The riverbank, looked at the pictures. Once
A few glasses of wine are drunk, we egg
Each other on, our thinking not too clear.
Thur 7 Feb 2008
520 - Munich 50
It happened fifty years ago, five years
Before I came into this world. I learned
About it as a young boy, bringing tears
Into my eyes. To learn how fate had spurned
Those great young men whose lives were crashed and burned
In Munich, when the aircraft they were on
Could not take off successfully. Returned
In coffins from the snowy wastes, upon
Which wheels could not find grip, on which they spun
And slid. The plane broke up and cut like shears
Into their bodies. Footballers were turned
Into memories. Like soldiers, soon gone,
Though young and strong, hearts full of song and beers,
Into that black night that tonight is mourned.
Wed 6 Feb 2008
Before I came into this world. I learned
About it as a young boy, bringing tears
Into my eyes. To learn how fate had spurned
Those great young men whose lives were crashed and burned
In Munich, when the aircraft they were on
Could not take off successfully. Returned
In coffins from the snowy wastes, upon
Which wheels could not find grip, on which they spun
And slid. The plane broke up and cut like shears
Into their bodies. Footballers were turned
Into memories. Like soldiers, soon gone,
Though young and strong, hearts full of song and beers,
Into that black night that tonight is mourned.
Wed 6 Feb 2008
519 - Super Tuesday (reds and blues day)
It’s Super Tuesday 2008:
McCain / Romney, and Clinton / Obama.
McCain will win; the other two we’ll wait
And see. Neither are an obvious winner.
There’s Hillary, memories of Monica
And Bill, who, if she wins, and wins again,
Will be the White House’s longest dweller.
The other fella, Barack, might complain
That because he’s black, he’s running in vain:
No matter what he says, it’s not his fate
To win, but simply to lose with honour.
He’d need to be great to beat John McCain;
More difficult than when Kennedy beat
Nixon in ’60. It makes great drama.
Tue 5 Feb 2008
McCain / Romney, and Clinton / Obama.
McCain will win; the other two we’ll wait
And see. Neither are an obvious winner.
There’s Hillary, memories of Monica
And Bill, who, if she wins, and wins again,
Will be the White House’s longest dweller.
The other fella, Barack, might complain
That because he’s black, he’s running in vain:
No matter what he says, it’s not his fate
To win, but simply to lose with honour.
He’d need to be great to beat John McCain;
More difficult than when Kennedy beat
Nixon in ’60. It makes great drama.
Tue 5 Feb 2008
518 - (I'm afraid we must) save the planet
The cry reverberates: “Save the planet!”
While spinning plates wobble worryingly.
The pressure’s on us all to call for it,
And not to cave in to the company.
We can’t leave it to governments; no, we
Must educate and demonstrate and push,
And at election times especially,
Defect from deaf defective leaders: Bush,
And even Democrats are in a rush
To fund campaigns and fill their full pocket
With packets of dough from each industry
To quieten those cries to a kind of hush.
Whatever the cause, there’s cause to regret
Each missed window of opportunity.
Mon 4 Feb 2008
While spinning plates wobble worryingly.
The pressure’s on us all to call for it,
And not to cave in to the company.
We can’t leave it to governments; no, we
Must educate and demonstrate and push,
And at election times especially,
Defect from deaf defective leaders: Bush,
And even Democrats are in a rush
To fund campaigns and fill their full pocket
With packets of dough from each industry
To quieten those cries to a kind of hush.
Whatever the cause, there’s cause to regret
Each missed window of opportunity.
Mon 4 Feb 2008
517 - Sonnet diary sonnet
The sonnet’s the thing! I’ve been into it
For something like seventeen months or more
Upon it you can hang anecdotes, wit,
Have fun with it - an excellent amour.
The sum total of fourteen lines is your
Guideline, and you can use rhymes if you want.
Myself, I use this scheme, but it’s not law:
ABAB BCBC in front
Then CABC brings you to the hunt
For a fine defining final couplet
Formed from AB. A busy day in store?
Maybe you’re tired, aggressive, bored or blunt?
There’s still time to write a daily sonnet,
Inspired or messy, poured out from your core.
Sun 3 Feb 2008
For something like seventeen months or more
Upon it you can hang anecdotes, wit,
Have fun with it - an excellent amour.
The sum total of fourteen lines is your
Guideline, and you can use rhymes if you want.
Myself, I use this scheme, but it’s not law:
ABAB BCBC in front
Then CABC brings you to the hunt
For a fine defining final couplet
Formed from AB. A busy day in store?
Maybe you’re tired, aggressive, bored or blunt?
There’s still time to write a daily sonnet,
Inspired or messy, poured out from your core.
Sun 3 Feb 2008
516 - Silly games
A day of two children’s birthday parties
A day when I woke up to some rare snow
A day when I had nowhere to put these
Few lines, because I’ve decided to go
From Yahoo’s blog site. Facebook awaits, though
I’ll leave it till tomorrow. Derby drew
At Birmingham, Villa from Mexico
Our last minute equaliser, but you
Know it’s too little too late. I hope to
Write plenty tomorrow, then later, seize
The chance to read in an open mike show
In Withington, at Fuel Bar, with the crew
From the Poetica group: Sarah Rees,
Andy N, Sam and not forgetting Jo.
Sat 2 Feb 2008
A day when I woke up to some rare snow
A day when I had nowhere to put these
Few lines, because I’ve decided to go
From Yahoo’s blog site. Facebook awaits, though
I’ll leave it till tomorrow. Derby drew
At Birmingham, Villa from Mexico
Our last minute equaliser, but you
Know it’s too little too late. I hope to
Write plenty tomorrow, then later, seize
The chance to read in an open mike show
In Withington, at Fuel Bar, with the crew
From the Poetica group: Sarah Rees,
Andy N, Sam and not forgetting Jo.
Sat 2 Feb 2008
515 - Freedom for the fly
I’m late for the train. It’s the 5.15
That passes by my window every night,
And I’m hopping on board tonight. It’s been
Fun staying in this town, but the time’s right
To make a move, to shake things up, to fight
My way out of a rut, to raise my game,
To recognise that some things turn to shite,
And let them decompose, flow down the drain
When washed there by the all-dissolving rain.
Make no mistake, this break’s gonna be clean:
The last post sounds for me on this website.
The last poets rapped, unheard from again,
But later listeners clapped, as a new scene
Grew up around the spoken sound in flight.
Fri 1 Feb 2008
That passes by my window every night,
And I’m hopping on board tonight. It’s been
Fun staying in this town, but the time’s right
To make a move, to shake things up, to fight
My way out of a rut, to raise my game,
To recognise that some things turn to shite,
And let them decompose, flow down the drain
When washed there by the all-dissolving rain.
Make no mistake, this break’s gonna be clean:
The last post sounds for me on this website.
The last poets rapped, unheard from again,
But later listeners clapped, as a new scene
Grew up around the spoken sound in flight.
Fri 1 Feb 2008
514 - The big freeze
It’s gone all cold, there’s sleet and even snow
Over the hills, walkers needing rescue;
So chilly I’ve shut my bedroom window
(Open normally all day, all night too).
When the full breath of winter falls on you,
Whether fell-walking or just town-dwelling,
The weather fills you up with coughs and flu,
Often flinging you off the edge, clinging,
Then dropping off the ledge, never stopping.
Just think what your thoughts would be, down below,
As snow drifts, and so does your stiff canoe
On black waters where no-one’s ferrying.
Maybe it’s terrifying, dying, though
It could also be like going home, too.
Thur 31 Jan 2008
Over the hills, walkers needing rescue;
So chilly I’ve shut my bedroom window
(Open normally all day, all night too).
When the full breath of winter falls on you,
Whether fell-walking or just town-dwelling,
The weather fills you up with coughs and flu,
Often flinging you off the edge, clinging,
Then dropping off the ledge, never stopping.
Just think what your thoughts would be, down below,
As snow drifts, and so does your stiff canoe
On black waters where no-one’s ferrying.
Maybe it’s terrifying, dying, though
It could also be like going home, too.
Thur 31 Jan 2008
513 - Shakespeare's Mister
The clock falls off the wall onto my head,
The calendar’s corners are all curling,
The camera lies idle like the bed.
The prize-winning poems are unwriting
Themselves. There’s no time even for eating…
Thank God I ate that chocolate while at work.
No time even to get off this seating
To go to the toilet to piss or jerk!
But at least there’s this one Shakespearian perk:
No matter what I don’t do, time’s captured
In these lines. This moment’s everlasting
As well as fleeting (like chances I shirk).
And so from nothing, something’s created,
Time’s elongated, and that’s elating.
Wed 30 Jan 2008
The calendar’s corners are all curling,
The camera lies idle like the bed.
The prize-winning poems are unwriting
Themselves. There’s no time even for eating…
Thank God I ate that chocolate while at work.
No time even to get off this seating
To go to the toilet to piss or jerk!
But at least there’s this one Shakespearian perk:
No matter what I don’t do, time’s captured
In these lines. This moment’s everlasting
As well as fleeting (like chances I shirk).
And so from nothing, something’s created,
Time’s elongated, and that’s elating.
Wed 30 Jan 2008
Wednesday 29 December 2010
512 - Parisian Pearl
Bon! Bon! Ma fille irai a la Sorbonne!
Bien sur, elle est particulierement heureuse.
Bien qu’elle doit etudier beaucoup maintenant,
Probablement elle voudrait etre chanteuse!
My French is very mauvais, unlike hers!
Just to confirm, Pearl’s going to Paris
In the autumn. Classic philosophers
And literature are on the study list,
But this will be her own Odyssey; this
Year spent among the best young French, ces jeunes,
Les dirigeants de demain, raconteurs,
Une nouvelle belle epoque not to be missed!
And now she’s looking forward to great fun,
Earned by her hard work in these last few years.
Tue 28 Jan 2008
Bien sur, elle est particulierement heureuse.
Bien qu’elle doit etudier beaucoup maintenant,
Probablement elle voudrait etre chanteuse!
My French is very mauvais, unlike hers!
Just to confirm, Pearl’s going to Paris
In the autumn. Classic philosophers
And literature are on the study list,
But this will be her own Odyssey; this
Year spent among the best young French, ces jeunes,
Les dirigeants de demain, raconteurs,
Une nouvelle belle epoque not to be missed!
And now she’s looking forward to great fun,
Earned by her hard work in these last few years.
Tue 28 Jan 2008
511 - Changes
Maybe it’s me. Why does it seem so hard
To keep on good terms with other people?
One day they’re warm, they smile at every word,
The next they’re frosty, silent, so fickle.
Maybe the mystery’s insoluble,
Or maybe it’s nothing to do with me.
We all assume that we’re responsible
For others’ behaviour, but, well, are we?
When someone dies, just blame mortality;
Don’t shoulder the burden: that’s so absurd.
And if that full shopping bag should topple
And contents spill, then still go on calmly.
Even I can’t do what I know I should,
So why should objects or other people?
28 Jan 2008
To keep on good terms with other people?
One day they’re warm, they smile at every word,
The next they’re frosty, silent, so fickle.
Maybe the mystery’s insoluble,
Or maybe it’s nothing to do with me.
We all assume that we’re responsible
For others’ behaviour, but, well, are we?
When someone dies, just blame mortality;
Don’t shoulder the burden: that’s so absurd.
And if that full shopping bag should topple
And contents spill, then still go on calmly.
Even I can’t do what I know I should,
So why should objects or other people?
28 Jan 2008
510 - Marriage mirage
Clash of the titans - no, of the parents -
With poor innocent kids caught in between;
The nastiness, the fighting, arguments,
The sordid details of a sordid scene;
The sawn-off entrails of what once had been,
Still dripping, dropping stains that won’t wash off;
Not stopping, despite warning signs; best clean
The windscreen of our eyes of the word ‘love;’
That obstacle-obscuring thing’s enough
To optically ensure you’re without sense;
It’s love and mortgage, not marriage; the queen
Does not rule this republican; handcuff
Some other foolish little man; offence
When given is taken, and hence my spleen.
Sun 27 Jan 2008
With poor innocent kids caught in between;
The nastiness, the fighting, arguments,
The sordid details of a sordid scene;
The sawn-off entrails of what once had been,
Still dripping, dropping stains that won’t wash off;
Not stopping, despite warning signs; best clean
The windscreen of our eyes of the word ‘love;’
That obstacle-obscuring thing’s enough
To optically ensure you’re without sense;
It’s love and mortgage, not marriage; the queen
Does not rule this republican; handcuff
Some other foolish little man; offence
When given is taken, and hence my spleen.
Sun 27 Jan 2008
509 - Short of breath and hope
Just two hours’ sleep, and a cough, but I still
Walked into town for a singing lesson
With friends Andy and Sarah. You just fill
The lungs, hold the air in, then push it down
As you sing higher. I have just begun
To control my breathing, and with it, voice,
Playing it like a lyre, able to plan
For live performances, giving a choice
Of poetry or song to keep the boys
And girls happy, foot-tappy, well, until
I forget the words. Where was I? It’s fun
To fantasise, isn’t it? Ah, the ploys
We use to kid ourselves that soon we will
Go places, instead of just going around.
Sat 26 Jan 2008
Walked into town for a singing lesson
With friends Andy and Sarah. You just fill
The lungs, hold the air in, then push it down
As you sing higher. I have just begun
To control my breathing, and with it, voice,
Playing it like a lyre, able to plan
For live performances, giving a choice
Of poetry or song to keep the boys
And girls happy, foot-tappy, well, until
I forget the words. Where was I? It’s fun
To fantasise, isn’t it? Ah, the ploys
We use to kid ourselves that soon we will
Go places, instead of just going around.
Sat 26 Jan 2008
508 - The Department of silly talk
The usual Friday, casually dressed,
Just winding down, writing this at lunchtime.
I wouldn’t say this job causes me stress:
In fact we all chat or eat, half the time.
The boss should really see this as a crime,
But the boss is also very laid back.
Besides, we don’t need to make one thin dime,
Or rather, any pennies; effort’s slack.
This government department’s on the rack
For inefficiency. It’s no business,
Though it calls itself one from time to time.
Its so-called customers cannot go back
And come as they please; they’re under duress;
They must pay the right tax at the right time.
Fri 25 Jan 2008
Just winding down, writing this at lunchtime.
I wouldn’t say this job causes me stress:
In fact we all chat or eat, half the time.
The boss should really see this as a crime,
But the boss is also very laid back.
Besides, we don’t need to make one thin dime,
Or rather, any pennies; effort’s slack.
This government department’s on the rack
For inefficiency. It’s no business,
Though it calls itself one from time to time.
Its so-called customers cannot go back
And come as they please; they’re under duress;
They must pay the right tax at the right time.
Fri 25 Jan 2008
507 - Oodles of noodles
Tonight there’s a meal at Wagamama!
We’ll all have big bowls of soup and noodles:
A Japanese food fest and office blah,
The big mouths holding court with their poodles.
We won’t bother with chopsticks like needles;
We’ll probably use spoons or even drink
It down quickly, probably spilling puddles
On laps, napkins and tablecloth; the clink
Of glasses partly to blame. Once we sink
The soup, our group will regroup at a bar
Where we’ll knock back a few pints and bottles.
I’m writing this now coz it’s hard to think
Straight, sozzled with a grape and grain mixture,
When you get home again, all befuddled.
Thur 24 Jan 2008
We’ll all have big bowls of soup and noodles:
A Japanese food fest and office blah,
The big mouths holding court with their poodles.
We won’t bother with chopsticks like needles;
We’ll probably use spoons or even drink
It down quickly, probably spilling puddles
On laps, napkins and tablecloth; the clink
Of glasses partly to blame. Once we sink
The soup, our group will regroup at a bar
Where we’ll knock back a few pints and bottles.
I’m writing this now coz it’s hard to think
Straight, sozzled with a grape and grain mixture,
When you get home again, all befuddled.
Thur 24 Jan 2008
506 - Not quite Bacchus
It’s midnight and I really must stop here,
But thirteen lines remain. Tonight I went
To poetry group followed by usual beer:
Two pints of Wobbly Bob and two hours spent
In good company. I gave out the scent
That was pursued by hounds in female form.
The chase was fun, but I’m not sure it meant
Much. Back for coffee, now gone back to norm.
Now what can I say? Turn on the brainstorm
Until the foggy night of beer is clear
And some coherent rhymed messages sent
In the traditional sonnetary form.
Phil’s coming round at 8 to fix my queer
Freeview reception, so on sleep I’m bent.
Wed 23 Jan 2008
But thirteen lines remain. Tonight I went
To poetry group followed by usual beer:
Two pints of Wobbly Bob and two hours spent
In good company. I gave out the scent
That was pursued by hounds in female form.
The chase was fun, but I’m not sure it meant
Much. Back for coffee, now gone back to norm.
Now what can I say? Turn on the brainstorm
Until the foggy night of beer is clear
And some coherent rhymed messages sent
In the traditional sonnetary form.
Phil’s coming round at 8 to fix my queer
Freeview reception, so on sleep I’m bent.
Wed 23 Jan 2008
505 - Bug in the system
I think I might have a cold coming on.
I don’t feel a hundred and ten per cent,
I’m snuffly up in the nasal region,
But thanks for asking. I know it’s well meant.
At least I don’t smoke. Now, cig money’s spent
On other stuff, like higher fuel costs,
And soon, all-round inflation; prices sent
Sky-high as credit dries up. All the boasts
About second homes, buy-to-let, are toast.
I think there’s a recession coming on.
All those who over-borrowed, now repent.
The gates of extravagance are now closed.
And now the debt, virus in the system,
Shows its effect, spills out with cruel intent.
Tue 22 Jan 2008
I don’t feel a hundred and ten per cent,
I’m snuffly up in the nasal region,
But thanks for asking. I know it’s well meant.
At least I don’t smoke. Now, cig money’s spent
On other stuff, like higher fuel costs,
And soon, all-round inflation; prices sent
Sky-high as credit dries up. All the boasts
About second homes, buy-to-let, are toast.
I think there’s a recession coming on.
All those who over-borrowed, now repent.
The gates of extravagance are now closed.
And now the debt, virus in the system,
Shows its effect, spills out with cruel intent.
Tue 22 Jan 2008
504 - The winds of time
The wind blew my umbrella inside out
And I could only walk backwards, helpless,
Through unseen puddles, unable to shout,
Like in the nightmare when you’re powerless.
Whipped up in the air, now in some distress,
The hurricane flipping me upside down
And back to front, whipping off clothes. Undressed,
It put me down among some girls I’d known
In my teens, when I was shy and withdrawn,
And now, here I was once more, in no doubt
That this time I’d fulfil all hopes: the best
At everything, no longer that young clown,
But a suave man of the world, and without
Looking older than eighteen. I’ve been blessed!
Mon 21 Jan 2008
And I could only walk backwards, helpless,
Through unseen puddles, unable to shout,
Like in the nightmare when you’re powerless.
Whipped up in the air, now in some distress,
The hurricane flipping me upside down
And back to front, whipping off clothes. Undressed,
It put me down among some girls I’d known
In my teens, when I was shy and withdrawn,
And now, here I was once more, in no doubt
That this time I’d fulfil all hopes: the best
At everything, no longer that young clown,
But a suave man of the world, and without
Looking older than eighteen. I’ve been blessed!
Mon 21 Jan 2008
503 - Up all night
Too tired to be inspired; not enough sleep…
The downstairs neighbour in her high-heeled shoes
Kept clacking round her bedroom, and she’d keep
Turning the telly on too loud. J’accuse!
But still, she’s better than the Turk, who’d booze
And party nearly every night till four;
The loudest voice ever. Rest would refuse
The best of entreaties, retreating far.
The worst time for that to happen’s summer,
When light floods in and birds begin to cheep,
And work’s not far off. It’s the sleepless blues.
The radio played blues last night at four.
When ‘Up All Night’ ended, still counting sheep,
I felt like sleep’s detective seeking clues.
Sun 20 Jan 2008
The downstairs neighbour in her high-heeled shoes
Kept clacking round her bedroom, and she’d keep
Turning the telly on too loud. J’accuse!
But still, she’s better than the Turk, who’d booze
And party nearly every night till four;
The loudest voice ever. Rest would refuse
The best of entreaties, retreating far.
The worst time for that to happen’s summer,
When light floods in and birds begin to cheep,
And work’s not far off. It’s the sleepless blues.
The radio played blues last night at four.
When ‘Up All Night’ ended, still counting sheep,
I felt like sleep’s detective seeking clues.
Sun 20 Jan 2008
502 - Misty moor-top misery
The daftest place to live would be the farm
In the midst of the motorway to Leeds
(Or to Manchester) where it’s never calm
Or rural, the roar all day, all night; speeds
Of up to a hundred. While your flock feeds
On wet grass with carbon dioxide taste,
The misty moor-top motorway impedes
Your free movement and health, with all that waste
Floating around, added to damp encased
Deeply within your walls. You’d come to harm,
Or, more likely, top yourself first. The deeds
Would indeed be unsaleable. You’d paste
It up as a mistake, try to wake from
The nightmare of the motorway to Leeds.
Sat 19 Jan 2008
In the midst of the motorway to Leeds
(Or to Manchester) where it’s never calm
Or rural, the roar all day, all night; speeds
Of up to a hundred. While your flock feeds
On wet grass with carbon dioxide taste,
The misty moor-top motorway impedes
Your free movement and health, with all that waste
Floating around, added to damp encased
Deeply within your walls. You’d come to harm,
Or, more likely, top yourself first. The deeds
Would indeed be unsaleable. You’d paste
It up as a mistake, try to wake from
The nightmare of the motorway to Leeds.
Sat 19 Jan 2008
Tuesday 28 December 2010
501 - See you later, Mr Reaper
This soft thin cage, this body of paper-
Like skin, stretched increasingly saggily
Over the shin, the pelvis, scapula,
Will finish and diminish gradually.
The heart will start to stop when it’s weary,
For all things wear out, to be recycled
In myriad new forms, dead or lively,
In mirrors of old forms, smooth or wrinkled.
When sinking feelings come, Death says “I called,
But you weren’t in. Maybe I’ll try later.”
I say “Okay. Though I don’t usually
Open the door, especially when it’s cold,
You seem like a nice chap.” This thin layer
Will then be stripped and shredded painlessly.
Fri 18 Jan 2008
Like skin, stretched increasingly saggily
Over the shin, the pelvis, scapula,
Will finish and diminish gradually.
The heart will start to stop when it’s weary,
For all things wear out, to be recycled
In myriad new forms, dead or lively,
In mirrors of old forms, smooth or wrinkled.
When sinking feelings come, Death says “I called,
But you weren’t in. Maybe I’ll try later.”
I say “Okay. Though I don’t usually
Open the door, especially when it’s cold,
You seem like a nice chap.” This thin layer
Will then be stripped and shredded painlessly.
Fri 18 Jan 2008
500 - Sonnet 500
What’s left to say after these 500
Fourteen line musing autobiographs?
Each thought’s been fought for, purposely hunted,
Sometimes to scold but often just for laughs.
Sonnets, a toy to employ disused paths
Of my mind’s hazy, mazy winding ways;
Maybe you find them crazy, like giraffes
That sit in the front row when watching plays.
But that appears so because rhyming phrase,
Pentameters and all, sometimes wanted
To fly with their own wings, wilful seraphs
Unwilling to seek merely mortal praise.
From where they come’s not fully understood,
But I’m no good at science or at maths.
Thur 17 Jan 2008
Fourteen line musing autobiographs?
Each thought’s been fought for, purposely hunted,
Sometimes to scold but often just for laughs.
Sonnets, a toy to employ disused paths
Of my mind’s hazy, mazy winding ways;
Maybe you find them crazy, like giraffes
That sit in the front row when watching plays.
But that appears so because rhyming phrase,
Pentameters and all, sometimes wanted
To fly with their own wings, wilful seraphs
Unwilling to seek merely mortal praise.
From where they come’s not fully understood,
But I’m no good at science or at maths.
Thur 17 Jan 2008
499 - At Manchester City, where the girls are so pretty
Down Manchester’s mean streets I go tonight
With my son by my side, all dressed up warm.
We’re going to spend three hours turning white
And blue, while watching City play West Ham.
I’m eating now before I brave the storm,
Although the rain has stopped now, luckily,
Which is unusual, against all form,
Coz it always rains when you watch City.
The pale blue shirts and stadium, pretty;
Much better than dark blue or red or white.
The manager, Sven, has overcome scorn
To do well, but they’re sliding gradually
Away from the top six. I fear they might
Miss out on Europe. That would be a shame.
Wed 16 Jan 2008
With my son by my side, all dressed up warm.
We’re going to spend three hours turning white
And blue, while watching City play West Ham.
I’m eating now before I brave the storm,
Although the rain has stopped now, luckily,
Which is unusual, against all form,
Coz it always rains when you watch City.
The pale blue shirts and stadium, pretty;
Much better than dark blue or red or white.
The manager, Sven, has overcome scorn
To do well, but they’re sliding gradually
Away from the top six. I fear they might
Miss out on Europe. That would be a shame.
Wed 16 Jan 2008
498 - Homo automobilicus
Homo automobilicus, you suck.
You’re not observant, and you’re not polite.
Who gave you the green light to drive a truck?
Should I explain that concept ‘traffic light?’
When I walked to work, and back home tonight,
I had to dodge the dodgy drivers who
Just wouldn’t wait their turn, who thought their plight
Necessitated refusal to queue.
Though lights may change to red, they continue,
And furthermore, you’ll never see them look
At poor pedestrians who have to fight
Their way across, who may also need to
Get somewhere quickly. It would take real pluck,
But let’s just scratch their cars and run off, right?
Tue 15 Jan 2008
You’re not observant, and you’re not polite.
Who gave you the green light to drive a truck?
Should I explain that concept ‘traffic light?’
When I walked to work, and back home tonight,
I had to dodge the dodgy drivers who
Just wouldn’t wait their turn, who thought their plight
Necessitated refusal to queue.
Though lights may change to red, they continue,
And furthermore, you’ll never see them look
At poor pedestrians who have to fight
Their way across, who may also need to
Get somewhere quickly. It would take real pluck,
But let’s just scratch their cars and run off, right?
Tue 15 Jan 2008
497 - Tell' em
Tell old Aunt Gladys, and tell her friend Kevin
Tell bold young Paris on a spending spree
Tell Silly Billy, Sonnet 497
Is on the net at Yahoo 360.
Tell Gorgeous George on his way home for tea
Tell Mary-Lou yoo-hoo (she’s on the loo)
Tell Hairy Horace looking for a flea
It’s on the net at 360 Yahoo.
Tell Robbie Shakespeare, Tommy Dylan too
Tell Johnny Shaftoe and Myra Gershwin
Tell Clint Clinton, Julie Giuliani
To somehow get to 360 Yahoo
Where they will see my Sonnet 497
And they’ll warm up, however cold they be.
Mon 14 Jan 2008
Tell bold young Paris on a spending spree
Tell Silly Billy, Sonnet 497
Is on the net at Yahoo 360.
Tell Gorgeous George on his way home for tea
Tell Mary-Lou yoo-hoo (she’s on the loo)
Tell Hairy Horace looking for a flea
It’s on the net at 360 Yahoo.
Tell Robbie Shakespeare, Tommy Dylan too
Tell Johnny Shaftoe and Myra Gershwin
Tell Clint Clinton, Julie Giuliani
To somehow get to 360 Yahoo
Where they will see my Sonnet 497
And they’ll warm up, however cold they be.
Mon 14 Jan 2008
496 - The tragic tale of the Derby Ram
This is the tragic story of the ram
From Derbyshire that walked his field with pride.
Impressive horns, a fearsome bleat; I am
Sorry to say this animal has died.
A Scottish farmer had recently tried
Reviving him to his former glory,
But the new landowner just could not hide
His hatred for the Scotsman, and the wee
Glaswegian was evicted rapidly.
A Scouser was brought in, a mere sham,
Clueless of modern methods. Ram, abide
With us no more. You are now history,
Like Notts and Leicester, McLaren, Big Sam.
Across the empty field the cold wind cried.
Sun 13 Jan 2008
From Derbyshire that walked his field with pride.
Impressive horns, a fearsome bleat; I am
Sorry to say this animal has died.
A Scottish farmer had recently tried
Reviving him to his former glory,
But the new landowner just could not hide
His hatred for the Scotsman, and the wee
Glaswegian was evicted rapidly.
A Scouser was brought in, a mere sham,
Clueless of modern methods. Ram, abide
With us no more. You are now history,
Like Notts and Leicester, McLaren, Big Sam.
Across the empty field the cold wind cried.
Sun 13 Jan 2008
495 - Egg in my face
Thank goodness for eggs. They saved me tonight.
I got home feeling peckish, and thinking
I wouldn’t satisfy my appetite,
Because in the cupboard there was nothing.
But then, as I was casually looking
In the fridge, as you do, my luck was good:
A half-dozen ovoid treats, just laying
In wait. I could not avoid them, and would
Not hesitate to boil and eat this food,
This manna from Sainsburys, this delight-
Ful manner of empty belly filling,
Thanks to some paltry poultry. I conclude:
Be selfish - shell out on this dish! Its bright
Delicious yellow yolk’s hunger-shrinking!
Sat 12 Jan 2008
I got home feeling peckish, and thinking
I wouldn’t satisfy my appetite,
Because in the cupboard there was nothing.
But then, as I was casually looking
In the fridge, as you do, my luck was good:
A half-dozen ovoid treats, just laying
In wait. I could not avoid them, and would
Not hesitate to boil and eat this food,
This manna from Sainsburys, this delight-
Ful manner of empty belly filling,
Thanks to some paltry poultry. I conclude:
Be selfish - shell out on this dish! Its bright
Delicious yellow yolk’s hunger-shrinking!
Sat 12 Jan 2008
494 - You're lost, little girl
There was a teenage girl called Shafilea
Who died at seventeen by someone’s hand.
She felt more at home with western culture
And female freedom, but, in Pakistan,
Her parents introduced her to the man,
Or boy, perhaps, who would be her ruler,
Perhaps both of them living in that land.
At that point she drank bleach, but her father
Says she thought it was mouthwash. A teacher
Reported, to UK police, her fear
Of her parents’ and relatives’ command
To marry their choice, maintain their honour.
Soon after, poor Shafilea disappeared,
Till found decomposed on a river bend.
Fri 11 Jan 2008
Who died at seventeen by someone’s hand.
She felt more at home with western culture
And female freedom, but, in Pakistan,
Her parents introduced her to the man,
Or boy, perhaps, who would be her ruler,
Perhaps both of them living in that land.
At that point she drank bleach, but her father
Says she thought it was mouthwash. A teacher
Reported, to UK police, her fear
Of her parents’ and relatives’ command
To marry their choice, maintain their honour.
Soon after, poor Shafilea disappeared,
Till found decomposed on a river bend.
Fri 11 Jan 2008
493 - Cloud over Oxford
The rain came down and then it came again,
And as I loaded up my small red car,
I thought: These drops won’t stop. I’m not so vain,
But I’ll look like I’ve climbed from a river.
And then I strained to see past the wiper
That striped clean lines through opaque windscreen dirt
And raindrops, trained my failing eyes on the
Blue motorway signs, keeping them alert
For the exit to Oxford. Pearl was hurt
Inside, I felt, by the approaching strain
Of studies, exams, the social pressure
Of being popular, but being short
Of time to socialise. And this will drain
Her energy like drops of rainwater.
Thur 10 Jan 2008
And as I loaded up my small red car,
I thought: These drops won’t stop. I’m not so vain,
But I’ll look like I’ve climbed from a river.
And then I strained to see past the wiper
That striped clean lines through opaque windscreen dirt
And raindrops, trained my failing eyes on the
Blue motorway signs, keeping them alert
For the exit to Oxford. Pearl was hurt
Inside, I felt, by the approaching strain
Of studies, exams, the social pressure
Of being popular, but being short
Of time to socialise. And this will drain
Her energy like drops of rainwater.
Thur 10 Jan 2008
492 - Dark wet poetry
On dark and rainy January nights
In Manchester, the poetry falls down
Through cracks in the ceiling, missing the lights,
Landing on tables, where it’s passed around.
They aren’t all serious: you’ll hear the sound
Of titters, tatters and mad hatters there,
As rain pitters and patters on the town,
On Oxford Road and here in Albert Square.
The puddles will befuddle you - beware
When leaving the library! Keep your sights
On road and pavement, or your feet will drown
In pools of people’s lyrical despair.
The best antidote to such unplanned plights
Is popping to the pub. Hey, it’s your round…
Wed 9 Jan 2008
In Manchester, the poetry falls down
Through cracks in the ceiling, missing the lights,
Landing on tables, where it’s passed around.
They aren’t all serious: you’ll hear the sound
Of titters, tatters and mad hatters there,
As rain pitters and patters on the town,
On Oxford Road and here in Albert Square.
The puddles will befuddle you - beware
When leaving the library! Keep your sights
On road and pavement, or your feet will drown
In pools of people’s lyrical despair.
The best antidote to such unplanned plights
Is popping to the pub. Hey, it’s your round…
Wed 9 Jan 2008
491 - Poet and babysitter
The babysitter writes his poetry
While naughty child still frolics high above.
The house may fall down round his ears as he
Composes self, composing lines with love.
Imagination warms him like a glove
His hand’s enclosed within as it draws lines
And curves and dots on paper, very rough
But temporary, transferred onto screens
Later, to be seen by similar minds
On different hardware in different country.
The babysitter, almost scared to move,
Listens. She’s quiet now. The chaos seems
To be replaced by order. Let her be,
And sleep will soon entrap her in its groove.
Tue 8 Jan 2008
While naughty child still frolics high above.
The house may fall down round his ears as he
Composes self, composing lines with love.
Imagination warms him like a glove
His hand’s enclosed within as it draws lines
And curves and dots on paper, very rough
But temporary, transferred onto screens
Later, to be seen by similar minds
On different hardware in different country.
The babysitter, almost scared to move,
Listens. She’s quiet now. The chaos seems
To be replaced by order. Let her be,
And sleep will soon entrap her in its groove.
Tue 8 Jan 2008
490 - The practical problems of being Janus
This month’s named after Janus, two-headed
Fellow who could see both forwards and back.
The problems this caused were really horrid,
And one day he had a panic attack.
He lay in bed, rear head gasping from lack
Of air as it lay buried in pillow,
Mumbling “Whenever we both hit the sack,
It’s always me whose squashed here down below.”
“Be quiet,” said the top head, “or I’ll go
To a surgeon. You’ll be amputated.
It’s me decides it all, you decide jack.”
Janus really hated himself, you know.
His front head fat, his back head rarely fed,
Although he saw all things, his mood was black.
Mon 7 Jan 2008
Fellow who could see both forwards and back.
The problems this caused were really horrid,
And one day he had a panic attack.
He lay in bed, rear head gasping from lack
Of air as it lay buried in pillow,
Mumbling “Whenever we both hit the sack,
It’s always me whose squashed here down below.”
“Be quiet,” said the top head, “or I’ll go
To a surgeon. You’ll be amputated.
It’s me decides it all, you decide jack.”
Janus really hated himself, you know.
His front head fat, his back head rarely fed,
Although he saw all things, his mood was black.
Mon 7 Jan 2008
489 - Lead me from your door
I’m at the crossroads, but not on my knees.
Better to be here than walking along
Some endless desert road, so I say please
Don’t worry, this is not an old blues song.
Excitement comes from choice, no right or wrong.
When there’s no choice, that’s when we get the blues.
So I’ll pick up my bag and click my tongue,
Maybe I’ll shrug my shoulders, and then choose.
Three choices (left, right, straight on) could confuse,
But then they say things always come in threes.
You can’t see where they lead, eyes not that strong.
Can’t see round bends and over hills, but whose
Eyes can? No man, that’s who. No prophecies
From me, except it’s time that I was gone.
Sun 6 Jan 2008
Better to be here than walking along
Some endless desert road, so I say please
Don’t worry, this is not an old blues song.
Excitement comes from choice, no right or wrong.
When there’s no choice, that’s when we get the blues.
So I’ll pick up my bag and click my tongue,
Maybe I’ll shrug my shoulders, and then choose.
Three choices (left, right, straight on) could confuse,
But then they say things always come in threes.
You can’t see where they lead, eyes not that strong.
Can’t see round bends and over hills, but whose
Eyes can? No man, that’s who. No prophecies
From me, except it’s time that I was gone.
Sun 6 Jan 2008
488 - Marriage aforethought
Have I got the balls to end this marriage?
When I know the answer I’ll let you know.
The trouble is, notwithstanding the rage
I sometimes feel inside and sometimes show,
I’m just too nice, and where do nice men go?
Nowhere, that’s where. Of mice and men you’ve heard,
And if I don’t cut this tie, say hello
To a mouse that roared, when pecked by a bird.
I left yesterday with a heated word
About nothing; neither would disengage
From frosty hostilities. Deep in snow
Lies the relationship that she interred.
But though I know this, can I act my age
And do what I want, in spite of her ‘No’?
Sat 5 Jan 2008
When I know the answer I’ll let you know.
The trouble is, notwithstanding the rage
I sometimes feel inside and sometimes show,
I’m just too nice, and where do nice men go?
Nowhere, that’s where. Of mice and men you’ve heard,
And if I don’t cut this tie, say hello
To a mouse that roared, when pecked by a bird.
I left yesterday with a heated word
About nothing; neither would disengage
From frosty hostilities. Deep in snow
Lies the relationship that she interred.
But though I know this, can I act my age
And do what I want, in spite of her ‘No’?
Sat 5 Jan 2008
487 - Banished from the bedroom
Just a quick sonnet, sitting on the bed,
This single bed that’s meant for Josephine
In this pink girl’s bedroom, and yet, instead
Of her, it’s me who’s in it. Yes, I’ve been
Here for eleven nights in quarantine,
Away from the wife, who, with our daughter,
Has stayed in the main bedroom like a queen,
And I her servant, lamb to the slaughter.
I’ve been surprised how little I’ve fought her,
But then I’ve had to stay submissive, led
The way in compromise, conquered my spleen
To quell argument, just as she ought to
But doesn’t, just like my first wife. We’re wed,
But I can’t see it lasting. She’s too mean.
Fri 4 Jan 2008
This single bed that’s meant for Josephine
In this pink girl’s bedroom, and yet, instead
Of her, it’s me who’s in it. Yes, I’ve been
Here for eleven nights in quarantine,
Away from the wife, who, with our daughter,
Has stayed in the main bedroom like a queen,
And I her servant, lamb to the slaughter.
I’ve been surprised how little I’ve fought her,
But then I’ve had to stay submissive, led
The way in compromise, conquered my spleen
To quell argument, just as she ought to
But doesn’t, just like my first wife. We’re wed,
But I can’t see it lasting. She’s too mean.
Fri 4 Jan 2008
486 - I only have eyes for you
My eldest child, a daughter, is twenty.
(She’s nearly half my age now, the poor thing.)
Her eyesight’s crap, perhaps she could blame me:
I wore glasses at five, then bore the sting
Of contact lenses when twenty-something,
Then laser surgery two thousand-one,
And now, again, deteriorating,
But she’s got some of these delights to come,
Being still young, still undecided on
Career; maybe translator, but can see
The opportunities diminishing
With English ever more widely spoken.
The Sorbonne’s her aim, parce qu’elle aime Paris,
But Lyon and Nice also beckoning.
Thur 3 Jan 2008
(She’s nearly half my age now, the poor thing.)
Her eyesight’s crap, perhaps she could blame me:
I wore glasses at five, then bore the sting
Of contact lenses when twenty-something,
Then laser surgery two thousand-one,
And now, again, deteriorating,
But she’s got some of these delights to come,
Being still young, still undecided on
Career; maybe translator, but can see
The opportunities diminishing
With English ever more widely spoken.
The Sorbonne’s her aim, parce qu’elle aime Paris,
But Lyon and Nice also beckoning.
Thur 3 Jan 2008
485 - Light in January
I feel I’ve reached the top of a dark hill,
Night at my back, dawn’s red glow visible
Ahead, far ahead, leading me on till
I start the steep descent, almost stumble,
And, although still cold, smiling now, hopeful.
Thank God for eyes and ears and all my sense,
But there is nothing more likely to kill
Than smothering darkness, consuming absence
Of light shining in bright magnificence.
Christmas and New Year, a collective pill
We take for the headache caused by the dull
Dark days December draws down, deadly, dense.
Come, January’s germinating chill,
Your cleansing cold, your new light less feeble.
Wed 2 Jan 2008
Night at my back, dawn’s red glow visible
Ahead, far ahead, leading me on till
I start the steep descent, almost stumble,
And, although still cold, smiling now, hopeful.
Thank God for eyes and ears and all my sense,
But there is nothing more likely to kill
Than smothering darkness, consuming absence
Of light shining in bright magnificence.
Christmas and New Year, a collective pill
We take for the headache caused by the dull
Dark days December draws down, deadly, dense.
Come, January’s germinating chill,
Your cleansing cold, your new light less feeble.
Wed 2 Jan 2008
Monday 27 December 2010
484 - Eternal springs
The year opened hopefully with a dream
Of success, aided by professionals,
All members of a young and sexy team,
Devising advertising so it pulls
In customers for my product and sells
Whatever I’ve produced, creatively.
Some believe in dreams, some believe in spells,
And even I’ve listened to prophecy,
To tarot and palm readers when they see
Things that appeal to me and somehow name
Those crazy desires, mirages, and fool’s
Gold sprinkled on the beach, washed by the sea
Of dawn’s reality, cleansing the screen
Of fiction’s theme, eyes resuming sad roles.
Tue 1 Jan 2008
Of success, aided by professionals,
All members of a young and sexy team,
Devising advertising so it pulls
In customers for my product and sells
Whatever I’ve produced, creatively.
Some believe in dreams, some believe in spells,
And even I’ve listened to prophecy,
To tarot and palm readers when they see
Things that appeal to me and somehow name
Those crazy desires, mirages, and fool’s
Gold sprinkled on the beach, washed by the sea
Of dawn’s reality, cleansing the screen
Of fiction’s theme, eyes resuming sad roles.
Tue 1 Jan 2008
483 - Wintry summary
The year now ending was a thing unreal,
Consisting of terrestrial motion,
Roughly a circle, a revolving wheel,
Divided by milestones of convention,
Of award ceremonies for fiction,
Acting and sport, of deadly disaster,
Assassins and political friction,
Athletes running and ice melting faster.
Since wine and roses, York and Lancaster,
Since pocketfuls of posies, since the deal
That led to war and to mass conscription,
Destruction of the land by rich master,
Each year’s end is a chance, we hope, to heal
The sickness of the last revolution.
Mon 31 Dec 2007
Consisting of terrestrial motion,
Roughly a circle, a revolving wheel,
Divided by milestones of convention,
Of award ceremonies for fiction,
Acting and sport, of deadly disaster,
Assassins and political friction,
Athletes running and ice melting faster.
Since wine and roses, York and Lancaster,
Since pocketfuls of posies, since the deal
That led to war and to mass conscription,
Destruction of the land by rich master,
Each year’s end is a chance, we hope, to heal
The sickness of the last revolution.
Mon 31 Dec 2007
482 - Dreamathon
You’ll never believe this, but this morning
I slept even later, till ten minutes
To eleven; yes, just one hour wanting
Till noon. My lie-in record lies in bits!
I’ve had some good dreams lately. Often it’s
Set in a hotel like those ones in which
I stay on work trips, where everyone sits
Down for their meal in some big room. A hitch
To this plot is that personnel will switch
From work colleagues to teenage friends who string
Along in my mind’s resting space that knits
Ill-fitting places and faces, a stitch
Somewhat surreal, but surely congealing
These disparate discrepancies, misfits.
Sun 30 Dec 2007
I slept even later, till ten minutes
To eleven; yes, just one hour wanting
Till noon. My lie-in record lies in bits!
I’ve had some good dreams lately. Often it’s
Set in a hotel like those ones in which
I stay on work trips, where everyone sits
Down for their meal in some big room. A hitch
To this plot is that personnel will switch
From work colleagues to teenage friends who string
Along in my mind’s resting space that knits
Ill-fitting places and faces, a stitch
Somewhat surreal, but surely congealing
These disparate discrepancies, misfits.
Sun 30 Dec 2007
481 - Dream on, scheme on
I slept and slept and didn’t wake till ten.
That is the longest I’ve slept in for years.
Maybe having this cold helped me remain
Unconscious for that long, so that repairs
To viral damage could proceed. Now there’s
Almost a good reason for being ill:
Staying in bed half the day, no affairs
Of concern, body warm, relaxed and still,
Mind in another world in which my will
Has more authority than this cold one,
This unresponsive mistress, she that cares
For nothing, not only not for me. Till
Bedtime, now only an hour away, then,
I’ll endure all bodily trials and tears.
Sat 29 Dec 2007
That is the longest I’ve slept in for years.
Maybe having this cold helped me remain
Unconscious for that long, so that repairs
To viral damage could proceed. Now there’s
Almost a good reason for being ill:
Staying in bed half the day, no affairs
Of concern, body warm, relaxed and still,
Mind in another world in which my will
Has more authority than this cold one,
This unresponsive mistress, she that cares
For nothing, not only not for me. Till
Bedtime, now only an hour away, then,
I’ll endure all bodily trials and tears.
Sat 29 Dec 2007
480 - Waiting for the man
While waiting for the repairman to come,
The human race evolved a thousand fold
Until it travelled time and space, the hum
Of human chatter cross the furthest cold
Of inter-universal void. The old
Sun, Earth and Milky Way long gone, memories
Of our brains lost like some primeval mould,
Or like large lizards after ice age freeze,
Like our time when there seemed no hope for peace.
As worlds came to an end I twiddled thumb,
Made millions of phone calls, to be told
The repairman would get here soon. Oh, please!
He finally turned up, the lazy bum,
Fixed the spin dryer. Now it rocked and rolled!
Fri 28 Dec 2007
The human race evolved a thousand fold
Until it travelled time and space, the hum
Of human chatter cross the furthest cold
Of inter-universal void. The old
Sun, Earth and Milky Way long gone, memories
Of our brains lost like some primeval mould,
Or like large lizards after ice age freeze,
Like our time when there seemed no hope for peace.
As worlds came to an end I twiddled thumb,
Made millions of phone calls, to be told
The repairman would get here soon. Oh, please!
He finally turned up, the lazy bum,
Fixed the spin dryer. Now it rocked and rolled!
Fri 28 Dec 2007
479 - On my best behaviour (for Mum)
Today I had aching eyes and sore chest
Upon waking, and these remained all day.
It didn’t rain all day, though: we were blessed
With rays of sun and skies of blue and grey.
Noses ran, cars raced on the motorway
To Junction 3, signposted Arrowe Park,
Then on to Greasby, where Mom and Geoff lay
In wait at their bungalow, full of talk,
Like ‘I hope they’re not late.’ Too wet to walk,
We squeezed in one car, far too tightly pressed,
Then ate at The Manor. Mom said she’d pay
For food, and I bought drinks, but not one cork
Was opened for my sake: even the best
Of alcohol just left me cold today.
Thur 27 Dec 2007
Upon waking, and these remained all day.
It didn’t rain all day, though: we were blessed
With rays of sun and skies of blue and grey.
Noses ran, cars raced on the motorway
To Junction 3, signposted Arrowe Park,
Then on to Greasby, where Mom and Geoff lay
In wait at their bungalow, full of talk,
Like ‘I hope they’re not late.’ Too wet to walk,
We squeezed in one car, far too tightly pressed,
Then ate at The Manor. Mom said she’d pay
For food, and I bought drinks, but not one cork
Was opened for my sake: even the best
Of alcohol just left me cold today.
Thur 27 Dec 2007
478 - Who nose where the snot goes?
I’ve got a dreadful cold. Don’t get many
(Must have a good immune system, I spose),
But, Christmas Day, woke up feeling shitty.
A bad throat was the harbinger of woes.
Despite drinking too much that day (I chose
To get pissed on whisky and beer), my throat
Improved the next night, but, instead, my nose
Was the source of discomfort. I could float
On seas of seasonal snot, cross a moat
In a rowing boat over snot-green sea,
Drowning in it, not waving, all my foes
Conspiring to tip over my small boat.
Today my nostrils opened about three:
Not Noah’s flood, but nose flood. Hope it goes!
Wed 26 Dec 2007
(Must have a good immune system, I spose),
But, Christmas Day, woke up feeling shitty.
A bad throat was the harbinger of woes.
Despite drinking too much that day (I chose
To get pissed on whisky and beer), my throat
Improved the next night, but, instead, my nose
Was the source of discomfort. I could float
On seas of seasonal snot, cross a moat
In a rowing boat over snot-green sea,
Drowning in it, not waving, all my foes
Conspiring to tip over my small boat.
Today my nostrils opened about three:
Not Noah’s flood, but nose flood. Hope it goes!
Wed 26 Dec 2007
477 - Christmas cheer (and beer)
Well, that’s another Christmas Day gone by.
I’ve had my fill of whisky and of beer
(Peroni), and the time did kind of fly,
Coz I was pissed and somewhat out of here.
Josephine liked her bike, and soon we were
Cycling along a Wilmslow country lane,
Up Strawberry Lane, past the stables, quite near
The duck pond, then the Racecourse, then Oak Lane,
And Moor Lane, back to our own house again.
Soon after, we drove, collected Millie
And Michele, then at Grandma’s we’d appear,
And there we had turkey, ice cream, the same
As previous Christmas Days. Then time did fly
As I knocked back my whisky and my beer.
Tue 25 Dec 2007
I’ve had my fill of whisky and of beer
(Peroni), and the time did kind of fly,
Coz I was pissed and somewhat out of here.
Josephine liked her bike, and soon we were
Cycling along a Wilmslow country lane,
Up Strawberry Lane, past the stables, quite near
The duck pond, then the Racecourse, then Oak Lane,
And Moor Lane, back to our own house again.
Soon after, we drove, collected Millie
And Michele, then at Grandma’s we’d appear,
And there we had turkey, ice cream, the same
As previous Christmas Days. Then time did fly
As I knocked back my whisky and my beer.
Tue 25 Dec 2007
476 - Would you Adam and Christmas Eve it?
My brain is in a spin, a spin it’s in
The clock’s hands spin and whirr like buzzing flies
There’s so much to do, so much to begin,
Like wrapping presents. Well, that’s no surprise:
It is Christmas Eve, after all. Sainsbury’s
Is where I need to go to buy some things
For my needs and also the family’s.
I’m sure I’ll be spending some more shillings
Before the next few days are through. The sting’s
In the tail end when your head starts to spin
Again, this time at your bank balance. Why’s
It that bad? Oh no, it’s no use blaming
Santa. What about drinks, food, trips to kin?
But till then, enjoy whisky and mince pies!
Mon 24 Dec 2007
The clock’s hands spin and whirr like buzzing flies
There’s so much to do, so much to begin,
Like wrapping presents. Well, that’s no surprise:
It is Christmas Eve, after all. Sainsbury’s
Is where I need to go to buy some things
For my needs and also the family’s.
I’m sure I’ll be spending some more shillings
Before the next few days are through. The sting’s
In the tail end when your head starts to spin
Again, this time at your bank balance. Why’s
It that bad? Oh no, it’s no use blaming
Santa. What about drinks, food, trips to kin?
But till then, enjoy whisky and mince pies!
Mon 24 Dec 2007
475 - I'll drink to that! And that!
The winter solstice passed us yesterday;
Now the sun is returning its warm breath,
Slowly at first, but soon it will be May,
When winter never existed; no death
Can threaten springtime, when we all unsheath
Our stamens and our stigmas to the sky,
Unravelling the hidden underneath,
Exposing, pollinating, things that fly.
But first we eat and drink cold weather by,
Storing the energy we stored away
At summer’s end, the chattering of teeth
Replaced by tongues chatting, lip-smacking pie.
So let’s be grateful for the grape and say,
A Merry Christmas, and the best of health!
Sun 23 Dec 2007
Now the sun is returning its warm breath,
Slowly at first, but soon it will be May,
When winter never existed; no death
Can threaten springtime, when we all unsheath
Our stamens and our stigmas to the sky,
Unravelling the hidden underneath,
Exposing, pollinating, things that fly.
But first we eat and drink cold weather by,
Storing the energy we stored away
At summer’s end, the chattering of teeth
Replaced by tongues chatting, lip-smacking pie.
So let’s be grateful for the grape and say,
A Merry Christmas, and the best of health!
Sun 23 Dec 2007
474 - Smoke and mirrors
Last night I had a victory of sorts:
I drank only half of the bottle dry,
And I didn’t smoke all the fags I bought.
How’s that for success? How clever am I?
Okay, you want to know the truth, know why?
Well, I’m no hero; I had simply had
A few pints with colleagues to say goodbye
Till next year, and that was why I was bad,
And bought cigs on the way home to my pad,
And only drank half of the wine. My fault
That my jumper now smells smoky. A lie-
In did me good, though, and I’m once more clad
In my smoky jumper, because I thought
With two cigs left, again I’ll smell smoky.
Sat 22 Dec 2007
I drank only half of the bottle dry,
And I didn’t smoke all the fags I bought.
How’s that for success? How clever am I?
Okay, you want to know the truth, know why?
Well, I’m no hero; I had simply had
A few pints with colleagues to say goodbye
Till next year, and that was why I was bad,
And bought cigs on the way home to my pad,
And only drank half of the wine. My fault
That my jumper now smells smoky. A lie-
In did me good, though, and I’m once more clad
In my smoky jumper, because I thought
With two cigs left, again I’ll smell smoky.
Sat 22 Dec 2007
473 - Hasta proximo ano
My last day in the office is over.
I’ll be back there in 2008,
I hope, although the future’s never clear.
But until then it’s time to celebrate
The end of the old and hopefully wait
For what the new year has in store, even
Though much of it will consist not of straight
Progression towards the destination
Of my choosing, but of the twist and turn
Of infinitely complex chance. But there
Is plenty I can do to affect fate,
Consciousness guiding my hands as I learn
To steer, reading the signs, going faster,
And getting closer. I accelerate.
Fri 21 Dec 2007
I’ll be back there in 2008,
I hope, although the future’s never clear.
But until then it’s time to celebrate
The end of the old and hopefully wait
For what the new year has in store, even
Though much of it will consist not of straight
Progression towards the destination
Of my choosing, but of the twist and turn
Of infinitely complex chance. But there
Is plenty I can do to affect fate,
Consciousness guiding my hands as I learn
To steer, reading the signs, going faster,
And getting closer. I accelerate.
Fri 21 Dec 2007
472 - Regent Road Raceway
Safe in my flat, I hear the sirens wail.
No mermaids these, oh no! Cops and robbers
Racing down Regent Road. Thieves out on bail,
Driving their usual uninsured nicked cars.
What should they do when they’re not behind bars?
Would you give them a job, risk your money
On thugs on drugs? Thought not. Besides, welfare’s
There to support them because you and me
Don’t trust ’em. Enlightened society
Can’t execute ’em. But when they all fail
To live on their pittances, offences
Reoccur, and once more they are not free.
And so a life of crime, bent as a nail,
Is the chosen option by them and us.
Thur 20 Dec 2007
No mermaids these, oh no! Cops and robbers
Racing down Regent Road. Thieves out on bail,
Driving their usual uninsured nicked cars.
What should they do when they’re not behind bars?
Would you give them a job, risk your money
On thugs on drugs? Thought not. Besides, welfare’s
There to support them because you and me
Don’t trust ’em. Enlightened society
Can’t execute ’em. But when they all fail
To live on their pittances, offences
Reoccur, and once more they are not free.
And so a life of crime, bent as a nail,
Is the chosen option by them and us.
Thur 20 Dec 2007
471 - A novel approach
I’m off work today. First, I’ll write this, and
Maybe a bit of novel; then to see
My little Josephine in what is planned
To be a Christmas play at school, but we
All know that sometimes things go wrong. Maybe
She’ll throw a hissy fit like last year, when
Grandma and Grandad, her mother and me
All got there early and sat waiting. Then
She refused to play guiding star. And send
Santa away, she’s scared of him! And stand
Well back, coz Jo and mummy are poorly
With colds and bad throats, too. Well, it’s year’s end.
But before I go out, I’ll try my hand
At writing prose. (Harder than poetry!)
Wed 19 Dec 2007
Maybe a bit of novel; then to see
My little Josephine in what is planned
To be a Christmas play at school, but we
All know that sometimes things go wrong. Maybe
She’ll throw a hissy fit like last year, when
Grandma and Grandad, her mother and me
All got there early and sat waiting. Then
She refused to play guiding star. And send
Santa away, she’s scared of him! And stand
Well back, coz Jo and mummy are poorly
With colds and bad throats, too. Well, it’s year’s end.
But before I go out, I’ll try my hand
At writing prose. (Harder than poetry!)
Wed 19 Dec 2007
470 - Don't say what you think. Write it.
Each of us thinks in his or her own way.
Which is reflected in the way we talk,
Though sometimes we have to watch what we say
Or change our style, for instance, when at work.
But writing doesn’t need a tongue with fork
With which to speak; shouldn’t be politic
If written for art’s sake, without the smoke
And mirrors, real feeling in the lyric.
Good writers should never try to mimic
Others that they admire, not unless they
Happen to think alike, or it won’t work;
They might fool themselves but not the public.
So what I mean, at the end of the day,
Is write what you think. Leave the lies to talk.
Tue 18 Dec 2007
Which is reflected in the way we talk,
Though sometimes we have to watch what we say
Or change our style, for instance, when at work.
But writing doesn’t need a tongue with fork
With which to speak; shouldn’t be politic
If written for art’s sake, without the smoke
And mirrors, real feeling in the lyric.
Good writers should never try to mimic
Others that they admire, not unless they
Happen to think alike, or it won’t work;
They might fool themselves but not the public.
So what I mean, at the end of the day,
Is write what you think. Leave the lies to talk.
Tue 18 Dec 2007
469 - Boxing clever
I started reading a new book last night
(Well, from ’75, but never mind!):
It’s by Norman Mailer, it’s called ‘The Fight’,
And three reasons for reading it I find.
One is that its author has now declined
And fallen, naked, back among the dead.
Two is that boxing, unless you’ve been blind,
Has been in the news a lot lately. Read
About Mayweather / Hatton? And then third
Is that this book’s the last of a set. Might
As well read ’em all, then sell ’em. Enshrined
Within its pages, the clash of two dread
Fighters, Ali and Foreman, shining bright;
In Africa’s dark heart briefly confined.
Mon 17 Dec 2007
(Well, from ’75, but never mind!):
It’s by Norman Mailer, it’s called ‘The Fight’,
And three reasons for reading it I find.
One is that its author has now declined
And fallen, naked, back among the dead.
Two is that boxing, unless you’ve been blind,
Has been in the news a lot lately. Read
About Mayweather / Hatton? And then third
Is that this book’s the last of a set. Might
As well read ’em all, then sell ’em. Enshrined
Within its pages, the clash of two dread
Fighters, Ali and Foreman, shining bright;
In Africa’s dark heart briefly confined.
Mon 17 Dec 2007
468 - Give me just a little more time
A quick tour of what’s going on with me:
The daily sonnet still takes precedence
Because, by its nature, it’s done daily,
And to miss for one day would make no sense.
But the call of the novel is intense,
So I need to write my sonnets at dawn
(Or at the office!), leaving an immense
Chunk of the evening free for me to spawn
Plot and characters. Plus, to groups I’m drawn,
To meeting other artists, usefully.
And publishing some work could maybe send
A message that I’m here, that I’ve been born.
And then there’s music, guitar melody,
And work, and family, and online friends.
Sun 16 Dec 2007
The daily sonnet still takes precedence
Because, by its nature, it’s done daily,
And to miss for one day would make no sense.
But the call of the novel is intense,
So I need to write my sonnets at dawn
(Or at the office!), leaving an immense
Chunk of the evening free for me to spawn
Plot and characters. Plus, to groups I’m drawn,
To meeting other artists, usefully.
And publishing some work could maybe send
A message that I’m here, that I’ve been born.
And then there’s music, guitar melody,
And work, and family, and online friends.
Sun 16 Dec 2007
467 - Matches of the day
Went down to Bristol with my son today
Was nice to see that pretty place again
We saw the City team beat Cardiff. Play
Was uninspired, but the fired up Welshmen
Standing near us on the terraces, when
Things didn’t go their way, would punch the air
And curse the referee who dared to send
Off one of their team for foul play. ‘Not fair!’,
The usual complaint of the supporter
When things don’t go their way. They never say
‘Well done ref for sending our man off!’ Sven
Is doing well at Man City, but where
Will they finish? Fifth? Meanwhile, poor Derby
Are heading for the drop. Win for Wigan.
Sat 15 Dec 2007
Was nice to see that pretty place again
We saw the City team beat Cardiff. Play
Was uninspired, but the fired up Welshmen
Standing near us on the terraces, when
Things didn’t go their way, would punch the air
And curse the referee who dared to send
Off one of their team for foul play. ‘Not fair!’,
The usual complaint of the supporter
When things don’t go their way. They never say
‘Well done ref for sending our man off!’ Sven
Is doing well at Man City, but where
Will they finish? Fifth? Meanwhile, poor Derby
Are heading for the drop. Win for Wigan.
Sat 15 Dec 2007
466 - Dream lover
When dawn breaks and you’re floating in your bed
On intermittent dreams and wakefulness,
You can’t seem to keep pillow under head;
Instead, billowing waves and octopus
Transport you to a subterranean place
All shadowy, the pale light flickering,
Where they show movies shot behind your face
Which naturally you enjoy watching.
Maybe one day we’ll all be directing
These dreams, recording and replaying. There’d
Be no need for reality, unless
You’re strong enough to prefer it. We’d sing
Of God’s love and the life to come, but dead
Are those hopes in the modern age, I guess.
Fri 14 Dec 2007
On intermittent dreams and wakefulness,
You can’t seem to keep pillow under head;
Instead, billowing waves and octopus
Transport you to a subterranean place
All shadowy, the pale light flickering,
Where they show movies shot behind your face
Which naturally you enjoy watching.
Maybe one day we’ll all be directing
These dreams, recording and replaying. There’d
Be no need for reality, unless
You’re strong enough to prefer it. We’d sing
Of God’s love and the life to come, but dead
Are those hopes in the modern age, I guess.
Fri 14 Dec 2007
465 - The day after the fright before
The good thing about drinking far too much
Is that the day after, you’re drunk for free!
When walking you could still do with a crutch,
But above all you’re mellow and happy.
Because our office do was yesterday,
The whole team was relaxed, chatting, laughing,
Specially about Bill, who got so tipsy
In the pub that we ended up walking
Him to his train home, and he had to ring
This morning to say that he was a touch
Hungover and couldn’t come in. We’ll see
Him tomorrow. It should be amusing.
The bad thing about drinking far too much
Is that the day after, it’s just coffee!
Thur 13 Dec 2007
Is that the day after, you’re drunk for free!
When walking you could still do with a crutch,
But above all you’re mellow and happy.
Because our office do was yesterday,
The whole team was relaxed, chatting, laughing,
Specially about Bill, who got so tipsy
In the pub that we ended up walking
Him to his train home, and he had to ring
This morning to say that he was a touch
Hungover and couldn’t come in. We’ll see
Him tomorrow. It should be amusing.
The bad thing about drinking far too much
Is that the day after, it’s just coffee!
Thur 13 Dec 2007
464 - The drunkest I've ever been when writing a sonnet
Back from the pub, and not feeling too well,
I lay on the floor, waiting till I could
Write lines of some kind, feeling like in hell,
But sonnet must be written, in my blood.
I’m feeling cold now, heating’s off, I should
Just persevere, till fourteen lines are writ.
I think that my behaviour was not good.
Had a good night, but mixed my drinks a bit.
Had Guinness, red wine, white wine, lager… it
Hurts me to recall this, hurts me to tell;
I’m the sickest guy in my neighbourhood,
And basically I feel rather like shit.
I was sick in the kitchen sink. Not well
At all. Oh to be sick again, I would.
Wed 12 Dec 2007
PS - This was written after a long and drunken works Christmas meal and pub crawl
I lay on the floor, waiting till I could
Write lines of some kind, feeling like in hell,
But sonnet must be written, in my blood.
I’m feeling cold now, heating’s off, I should
Just persevere, till fourteen lines are writ.
I think that my behaviour was not good.
Had a good night, but mixed my drinks a bit.
Had Guinness, red wine, white wine, lager… it
Hurts me to recall this, hurts me to tell;
I’m the sickest guy in my neighbourhood,
And basically I feel rather like shit.
I was sick in the kitchen sink. Not well
At all. Oh to be sick again, I would.
Wed 12 Dec 2007
PS - This was written after a long and drunken works Christmas meal and pub crawl
463 - Fears in Algiers
A massive loss of life in Algiers
Al Qaeda is suspected, naturally
The usual focus of the media’s
The death toll, of course, but what’s hard to see
Is why they attacked a Muslim country,
And UNHCR which helps their poor.
Maybe they see it more symbolically,
A western branch cut off by Muslim saw.
Or are the causes internal affairs,
One group against another? Could it be
The smouldering embers of civil war?
One thing’s for sure: expect to have your fears
Built up about all Muslims generally.
Tue 11 Dec 2007
Al Qaeda is suspected, naturally
The usual focus of the media’s
The death toll, of course, but what’s hard to see
Is why they attacked a Muslim country,
And UNHCR which helps their poor.
Maybe they see it more symbolically,
A western branch cut off by Muslim saw.
Or are the causes internal affairs,
One group against another? Could it be
The smouldering embers of civil war?
One thing’s for sure: expect to have your fears
Built up about all Muslims generally.
Tue 11 Dec 2007
462 - Shop till I drop
Things that I often buy in Sainsbury’s
On my way home from work, round five or six;
Those bare necessities, small luxuries,
That keep me going, while checking out chicks.
To the right by the door, the cards with pix
To make you laugh at Christmas, on birthday;
Then clothes, then fruit and veg (celery sticks?)
And, further down, dairy (no milk today?)…
The tinned food, pasta and drinks aisles give way
To sugar, green tea and fair trade coffees;
Then things to spread, and cakes and bread. Two ticks
To frozen food and alcohol. I’ll stay
No longer, once I’ve grabbed enough of these.
Hope you enjoyed that, you shopaholics!
Mon 10 Dec 2007
On my way home from work, round five or six;
Those bare necessities, small luxuries,
That keep me going, while checking out chicks.
To the right by the door, the cards with pix
To make you laugh at Christmas, on birthday;
Then clothes, then fruit and veg (celery sticks?)
And, further down, dairy (no milk today?)…
The tinned food, pasta and drinks aisles give way
To sugar, green tea and fair trade coffees;
Then things to spread, and cakes and bread. Two ticks
To frozen food and alcohol. I’ll stay
No longer, once I’ve grabbed enough of these.
Hope you enjoyed that, you shopaholics!
Mon 10 Dec 2007
461 - Morning has broken, write the first poem
Should I write poetry in the morning,
When mind is fresh but no events have passed?
It’s true the memory’s still reflecting
On yesterday, and I may well write fast.
Should I write at lunchtime, and try to cast
The office chat from my mind? That’s quite tough,
And colleagues may condemn or laugh, sarcast-
ic in the kitchen, but time’s saved. Enough
Other things to do when back home. There’s stuff
Like writing that novel in the evening,
Which is why poems can’t be left till last,
But should be quickly drafted, off the cuff,
When mind is fresh but time is short. Dawning
Impressions are like crystal water splashed.
Sun 9 Dec 2007
When mind is fresh but no events have passed?
It’s true the memory’s still reflecting
On yesterday, and I may well write fast.
Should I write at lunchtime, and try to cast
The office chat from my mind? That’s quite tough,
And colleagues may condemn or laugh, sarcast-
ic in the kitchen, but time’s saved. Enough
Other things to do when back home. There’s stuff
Like writing that novel in the evening,
Which is why poems can’t be left till last,
But should be quickly drafted, off the cuff,
When mind is fresh but time is short. Dawning
Impressions are like crystal water splashed.
Sun 9 Dec 2007
460 - What a pantomime!
Slept till 8.30, looked at emails, then
Drove south to Wilmslow through rain from Salford,
Having remembered to pack book and pen
So I could write these lines just like I should.
Met wife and daughter by the notice board
That says ‘For Sale’ at the front of their house.
Wife went for haircut, we went, as rain poured,
To return library books. Quiet as a mouse
Daughter was not. Saw Santa. Filled our mouths,
Then rested, watched TV. But at seven
We watched Cinderella in panto. Lord,
It’s 35 years since I did that. Chose
Macdonalds drive-in meal for Jo, and when
Near home, egg fried rice, with curry sauce poured.
Sat 8 Dec 2007
Drove south to Wilmslow through rain from Salford,
Having remembered to pack book and pen
So I could write these lines just like I should.
Met wife and daughter by the notice board
That says ‘For Sale’ at the front of their house.
Wife went for haircut, we went, as rain poured,
To return library books. Quiet as a mouse
Daughter was not. Saw Santa. Filled our mouths,
Then rested, watched TV. But at seven
We watched Cinderella in panto. Lord,
It’s 35 years since I did that. Chose
Macdonalds drive-in meal for Jo, and when
Near home, egg fried rice, with curry sauce poured.
Sat 8 Dec 2007
459 - Mistletoe and lots of wine
A Merry Hicmas to you, one and all
May wine and whisky flow in endless streams
With turkeys flying overhead that call,
Hey, gobble gobble, eat us in your dreams.
Good will to men will reign, or so it seems,
While Christmas trees are upside down and filled
With foaming red wine drunk by kings and queens
Who look like you and me, but none is spilled.
There’s wine that’s mulled, and also some that’s chilled,
So take your fill, quaff it all at the ball.
This fruity liquid pill is full of beans,
And to be sure your knickers will be frilled.
So Merry Hicmas, pick a glass that’s tall
Knock it all back, and then enjoy the scenes.
Fri 7 Dec 2007
May wine and whisky flow in endless streams
With turkeys flying overhead that call,
Hey, gobble gobble, eat us in your dreams.
Good will to men will reign, or so it seems,
While Christmas trees are upside down and filled
With foaming red wine drunk by kings and queens
Who look like you and me, but none is spilled.
There’s wine that’s mulled, and also some that’s chilled,
So take your fill, quaff it all at the ball.
This fruity liquid pill is full of beans,
And to be sure your knickers will be frilled.
So Merry Hicmas, pick a glass that’s tall
Knock it all back, and then enjoy the scenes.
Fri 7 Dec 2007
458 - When will we all be famous?
These days it’s easy to become famous.
No talent required. You don’t even need
To go on a reality show. Just
Get hold of a gun, make some bastards bleed,
Then shoot yourself (optional). Yes indeed,
This method has been tried and will succeed.
You could say that pump action’s guaranteed.
You’ll get some kicks as victims beg and plead,
And feel the fear that sweeps at lightning speed,
Turning their pretty hopes into mall dust.
They pretty much deserve it, with their greed
And selfishness. Look how they all impede
And exclude, saying you’re not one of us.
They’ve ruined you, so kill them as they feed.
Thur 6 Dec 2007
No talent required. You don’t even need
To go on a reality show. Just
Get hold of a gun, make some bastards bleed,
Then shoot yourself (optional). Yes indeed,
This method has been tried and will succeed.
You could say that pump action’s guaranteed.
You’ll get some kicks as victims beg and plead,
And feel the fear that sweeps at lightning speed,
Turning their pretty hopes into mall dust.
They pretty much deserve it, with their greed
And selfishness. Look how they all impede
And exclude, saying you’re not one of us.
They’ve ruined you, so kill them as they feed.
Thur 6 Dec 2007
457 - Leaving leaves
I’m looking out of my window. Between
The two tall evergreens, I can see, through
Deciduous branches where leaves have been
And gone, a distant tree gracing the view,
Majestically filling space. Thank you,
My noble chap, my cheerful friendly fellow
Behind the green and brown foreground. Below
The grey Salford sky, your distinctive yellow
Has coloured in my morning. I could wallow
In your mystical distance, golden sheen
Suddenly lit by sunburst for a few
Seconds (almost missed while typing). The shallow
Concerns of life mean I must leave, though keen
To watch your short-lived show. I hear my cue.
Wed 5 Dec 2007
The two tall evergreens, I can see, through
Deciduous branches where leaves have been
And gone, a distant tree gracing the view,
Majestically filling space. Thank you,
My noble chap, my cheerful friendly fellow
Behind the green and brown foreground. Below
The grey Salford sky, your distinctive yellow
Has coloured in my morning. I could wallow
In your mystical distance, golden sheen
Suddenly lit by sunburst for a few
Seconds (almost missed while typing). The shallow
Concerns of life mean I must leave, though keen
To watch your short-lived show. I hear my cue.
Wed 5 Dec 2007
Tuesday 21 December 2010
456 - What's wrong with hibernation?
The winter morning darkness starts to lift
As bold birds gossip shamelessly outside
Disintegrating year, calendars ripped
Of all but cold year end pictures, the dried
Out remains of the seasons. Like the tide
Recedes and returns, so too do the sun
And moon, rains and breezes, on this great ride
All of us feeding, learning to be one
Growth entails suffering. The early hum
Of the alarm a call to battle. Shift
From warmth of bed to gale's buffeting, pride
Unharmed, all tests of mettle to be won
The branches visible now, grey clouds shift
And I must hunt and gather. I can't hide
Tue 4 Dec 2007
As bold birds gossip shamelessly outside
Disintegrating year, calendars ripped
Of all but cold year end pictures, the dried
Out remains of the seasons. Like the tide
Recedes and returns, so too do the sun
And moon, rains and breezes, on this great ride
All of us feeding, learning to be one
Growth entails suffering. The early hum
Of the alarm a call to battle. Shift
From warmth of bed to gale's buffeting, pride
Unharmed, all tests of mettle to be won
The branches visible now, grey clouds shift
And I must hunt and gather. I can't hide
Tue 4 Dec 2007
455 - Boo to Yahoo
There's Yahoo, Facebook, YouTube and MySpace
When am I going to eat? Late for work, late
For bed. No space in my head, cos your face
Is on my screen again, and at this rate
I'll not be peeing in the loo till eight
The pace has got me fucked. Look, face it, look
Mate, it's checkmate, I'm hooked. You were the bait
And I'm caught by the pubes. Can't read a book
No time, cos it moves on apace. I'm stuck
Me and you too, loaded down, in this maze
This amazing new cube, hedged in, my fate
Never to escape. Yoo hoo, Mr Truck
Driver, drive hard out of here! This new place
A new base encasing me. Lift the gate!
Mon 3 Dec 2007
When am I going to eat? Late for work, late
For bed. No space in my head, cos your face
Is on my screen again, and at this rate
I'll not be peeing in the loo till eight
The pace has got me fucked. Look, face it, look
Mate, it's checkmate, I'm hooked. You were the bait
And I'm caught by the pubes. Can't read a book
No time, cos it moves on apace. I'm stuck
Me and you too, loaded down, in this maze
This amazing new cube, hedged in, my fate
Never to escape. Yoo hoo, Mr Truck
Driver, drive hard out of here! This new place
A new base encasing me. Lift the gate!
Mon 3 Dec 2007
454 - Darkmas
The reason why we all party like mad
Get drunk, celebrate Christmas and New Year
Light candles, eat, the lot, really's quite sad
It's because otherwise there is no cheer
At this time of year. I hate December!
The long nights, the low sun that blinds the eyes
The cold...Staying indoors bores, and that's the
Real reason for the partying. Get wise
To the bullshit of it. But good sense flies
Up the chimney when you're a mum or dad
And you've got little ones, hits Santa's rear
As he squeezes and wheezes, eats mince pies
Then lies down to recover. It's no fad
It's an ancient need to forget our fear
Sun 2 Dec 2007
Get drunk, celebrate Christmas and New Year
Light candles, eat, the lot, really's quite sad
It's because otherwise there is no cheer
At this time of year. I hate December!
The long nights, the low sun that blinds the eyes
The cold...Staying indoors bores, and that's the
Real reason for the partying. Get wise
To the bullshit of it. But good sense flies
Up the chimney when you're a mum or dad
And you've got little ones, hits Santa's rear
As he squeezes and wheezes, eats mince pies
Then lies down to recover. It's no fad
It's an ancient need to forget our fear
Sun 2 Dec 2007
453 - Sudan death
If you go down Sudanwards today, you're
Sure of a big surprise. Don't take your bear
For it's no picnic there, especially for
Foreigners, but also Sudanese there
Untold numbers of refugees need care
But no-one cares. In Darfur and the south
The ethnic cleansing, rape, torture, despair
Endless uncivil war. And so look out
Sudan has oil, and the west's big black snout
Is in there along with China's. The poor
Are terrorised with armour we prepare
And supply with fuel. Our governments spout
Against the horror, but while payments pour
Into enough accounts, long live warfare!
Sat 1 Dec 2007
Sure of a big surprise. Don't take your bear
For it's no picnic there, especially for
Foreigners, but also Sudanese there
Untold numbers of refugees need care
But no-one cares. In Darfur and the south
The ethnic cleansing, rape, torture, despair
Endless uncivil war. And so look out
Sudan has oil, and the west's big black snout
Is in there along with China's. The poor
Are terrorised with armour we prepare
And supply with fuel. Our governments spout
Against the horror, but while payments pour
Into enough accounts, long live warfare!
Sat 1 Dec 2007
452 - Peas please me
Last night I was fed up with pasta
Although it's true that it cooks faster
Come on come on come on come on
Peas please me, oh yeah, do they please you?
You don't need to cook something fancy
Pie, peas and spuds are all a man needs
Come on come on come on come on
Peas please me, oh yeah, do they please you?
I don't want to sit here starvin'
Is this boy called Marvin, he is not (he is not)
Put some peas on my plate will you
Is there any reason not to, oh yeah, and green's better than blue
Peas please me, oh yeah, do they please you?
Do they please you?
Fri 30 Nov 2007
Although it's true that it cooks faster
Come on come on come on come on
Peas please me, oh yeah, do they please you?
You don't need to cook something fancy
Pie, peas and spuds are all a man needs
Come on come on come on come on
Peas please me, oh yeah, do they please you?
I don't want to sit here starvin'
Is this boy called Marvin, he is not (he is not)
Put some peas on my plate will you
Is there any reason not to, oh yeah, and green's better than blue
Peas please me, oh yeah, do they please you?
Do they please you?
Fri 30 Nov 2007
451 - Yes, we are quite bananans
This crazy gang is the Banana Bunch
They're certainly not a straightforward lot
Be careful if you fancy one for lunch
Because they'll mash you up. You see they've got
Thin skins. Peel them the wrong way, they get hot
And bothered. If you drop one that's a slip
Waiting to happen. Young and firm, no spot
On mellow yellow face or fingertip
When I'm not looking they all take a trip
Out of the bowl. Be careful not to crunch
One underfoot or the others will plot
Against you. They mutinied on their ship
They are a mean bunch, and no man will munch
On them and escape without tummy rot
Thur 29 Nov 2007
They're certainly not a straightforward lot
Be careful if you fancy one for lunch
Because they'll mash you up. You see they've got
Thin skins. Peel them the wrong way, they get hot
And bothered. If you drop one that's a slip
Waiting to happen. Young and firm, no spot
On mellow yellow face or fingertip
When I'm not looking they all take a trip
Out of the bowl. Be careful not to crunch
One underfoot or the others will plot
Against you. They mutinied on their ship
They are a mean bunch, and no man will munch
On them and escape without tummy rot
Thur 29 Nov 2007
450 - Smashie and Nicey rock on!
I own CDs by all the followin'
AC/DC, Dave Bowie, Johnny Cash
Miles Davis, ELO, Leonard Cohen
Funkadelic, Grateful Dead and The Clash
Hendrix, Greg Isaacs, Crosby Stills and Nash
The Jam, The Killers and Hank Williams
Nirvana, Oasis, Prince, Queen and Ash
Radiohead, Sparks, Lucinda Williams
Teardrop Explodes, guitarist John Williams
The Undertones, The Velvets live, Dylan
Wagner and XTC, Yeah Yeah Yeahs' thrash
John Zorn. Nobody else named Williams
In a short while I hope to be playin'
Along on acoustic, and gettin' smashed
Wed 28 Nov 2007
AC/DC, Dave Bowie, Johnny Cash
Miles Davis, ELO, Leonard Cohen
Funkadelic, Grateful Dead and The Clash
Hendrix, Greg Isaacs, Crosby Stills and Nash
The Jam, The Killers and Hank Williams
Nirvana, Oasis, Prince, Queen and Ash
Radiohead, Sparks, Lucinda Williams
Teardrop Explodes, guitarist John Williams
The Undertones, The Velvets live, Dylan
Wagner and XTC, Yeah Yeah Yeahs' thrash
John Zorn. Nobody else named Williams
In a short while I hope to be playin'
Along on acoustic, and gettin' smashed
Wed 28 Nov 2007
449 - Feeling flat about leaving my flat
I'm selling this old flat in Salford town
That's been so good to me, but for the din
From up all night neighbours that wore me down
Last year, but lately things are improving
On that score. A tour of the flat's coming
So I can remember what it was like
After I've left. Laminated flooring
White, and painted white walls. In the hall, bike
Outside Lee's flat above. Such a short hike
To work, no car needed. Phil looks around
For intruders and empties wheelie-bin
There is something relaxing to the psyche
In having your own place, own rules, own ground...
But it's to Wilmslow I am returning
Tue 27 Nov 2007
That's been so good to me, but for the din
From up all night neighbours that wore me down
Last year, but lately things are improving
On that score. A tour of the flat's coming
So I can remember what it was like
After I've left. Laminated flooring
White, and painted white walls. In the hall, bike
Outside Lee's flat above. Such a short hike
To work, no car needed. Phil looks around
For intruders and empties wheelie-bin
There is something relaxing to the psyche
In having your own place, own rules, own ground...
But it's to Wilmslow I am returning
Tue 27 Nov 2007
448 - Shades of grey
There's brillig or humbug, or there's brillbug
Superb, abhorrent, or superhorrent
Is it a cup or mug, even a cug?
A drip or torrent, even a drorrent?
You see, there's not just black and white. I've spent
Time thinking about the grey in between
That mixture of two opposites that's lent
The qualities of both. Though less pristine
Less pure, I'm sure it's more like things have been
Both in the human being, that big bug
And the bacteria that somehow went
Through space and grew in earth's water, so clean
Until we came along, until we dug
And dammed. Now will earth's riches be well spent?
Mon 26 Nov 2007
Superb, abhorrent, or superhorrent
Is it a cup or mug, even a cug?
A drip or torrent, even a drorrent?
You see, there's not just black and white. I've spent
Time thinking about the grey in between
That mixture of two opposites that's lent
The qualities of both. Though less pristine
Less pure, I'm sure it's more like things have been
Both in the human being, that big bug
And the bacteria that somehow went
Through space and grew in earth's water, so clean
Until we came along, until we dug
And dammed. Now will earth's riches be well spent?
Mon 26 Nov 2007
447 - Winter ponderland
My neck's aching from turning round to see
The band play in the pub on Friday night
I'm still relieved we saw Lincoln City
Play Notts County on Saturday. The fright
I had when trapped in Chesterfield, that fight
To get through the cars, pouring into town
Like Christmas locusts that focused my sight
On the passing time, existential frown
In the style of Brel or Morrissey. Down
Goes yet another year. Agreed, Johnny
Logan, what does it matter? We turn white
Reflecting winter's cliched image found
On bargain boxes of cards Sainsbury's
Sells. Hear the Christmas bells. Unsilent night
Sun 25 Nov 2007
The band play in the pub on Friday night
I'm still relieved we saw Lincoln City
Play Notts County on Saturday. The fright
I had when trapped in Chesterfield, that fight
To get through the cars, pouring into town
Like Christmas locusts that focused my sight
On the passing time, existential frown
In the style of Brel or Morrissey. Down
Goes yet another year. Agreed, Johnny
Logan, what does it matter? We turn white
Reflecting winter's cliched image found
On bargain boxes of cards Sainsbury's
Sells. Hear the Christmas bells. Unsilent night
Sun 25 Nov 2007
446 - Twenty-four miles from Lincoln
Already late at journey's start, I drove
No time to stop for food, but the traffic
Jammed spanners in my spokes. Heavens above
Why must there always be cloud, grey and thick
Hanging over our enjoyment? Gearstick
I flicked you left and right, up and down, but
Was slowed by red lights, more cars and the lick
Of rain on windscreen and tyre. Would they shut
The gates before we got to Lincoln? Foot-
ball games won't wait for us. If we can't move
Take the right turns, or maybe left, real quick
We'll find we're left behind, we'll miss the cut
At any rate, on this date, fate would prove
Quite kind. But we still missed the opening kick
Sat 24 Nov 2007
No time to stop for food, but the traffic
Jammed spanners in my spokes. Heavens above
Why must there always be cloud, grey and thick
Hanging over our enjoyment? Gearstick
I flicked you left and right, up and down, but
Was slowed by red lights, more cars and the lick
Of rain on windscreen and tyre. Would they shut
The gates before we got to Lincoln? Foot-
ball games won't wait for us. If we can't move
Take the right turns, or maybe left, real quick
We'll find we're left behind, we'll miss the cut
At any rate, on this date, fate would prove
Quite kind. But we still missed the opening kick
Sat 24 Nov 2007
445 - Oil's not well
The car carried us crazily cross moors
From Lancs to Yorks to Lincs. Immingham docks
And oil refinery the place, the cause
A need to find out about huge oil stocks
That big boats carry crudely. Our man clocks
What comes in and, refined, goes out to sea
He peeps at pipes. Perhaps he'll pull their socks
Up if they've not done - and paid - their duty
Which England expects, her economy
Kept in the black by black gold tax, her shores
Kept afloat by assuring well-kept books
Brooking no shortfalls. All's well, or maybe
Oil's well that ends well. They'll follow tax laws
They would attack without a taxman's knocks
Fri 23 Nov 2007
From Lancs to Yorks to Lincs. Immingham docks
And oil refinery the place, the cause
A need to find out about huge oil stocks
That big boats carry crudely. Our man clocks
What comes in and, refined, goes out to sea
He peeps at pipes. Perhaps he'll pull their socks
Up if they've not done - and paid - their duty
Which England expects, her economy
Kept in the black by black gold tax, her shores
Kept afloat by assuring well-kept books
Brooking no shortfalls. All's well, or maybe
Oil's well that ends well. They'll follow tax laws
They would attack without a taxman's knocks
Fri 23 Nov 2007
444 - Fourteen on 444
Three crosses side by side on Calvary Hill
Three bosses with crossed arms, cross expressions
Three yachts that are not sailing but are still
Three tots on fourth birthday, fortunate sons
Three pines await festive axe incisions
Three felines tiptoe, curious tails aloft
three ballerinas, all three pretty ones
Three Valentinos, hats fittingly doffed
Three former bipeds, drunk (too much ale quaffed)
Three warmer ice-free sleds sliding downhill
Three triangles fighting with knives and guns
Three hard machines becoming slightly soft
Three entangled knots caught in water's spill
Three sardines humming their night-swimming songs
Thur 22 Nov 2007
Three bosses with crossed arms, cross expressions
Three yachts that are not sailing but are still
Three tots on fourth birthday, fortunate sons
Three pines await festive axe incisions
Three felines tiptoe, curious tails aloft
three ballerinas, all three pretty ones
Three Valentinos, hats fittingly doffed
Three former bipeds, drunk (too much ale quaffed)
Three warmer ice-free sleds sliding downhill
Three triangles fighting with knives and guns
Three hard machines becoming slightly soft
Three entangled knots caught in water's spill
Three sardines humming their night-swimming songs
Thur 22 Nov 2007
443 - On the move?
It's been a rather busy day at work
I had a chat with Angie and Elaine
I read about the scandal. Oh, to shirk
Responsibility, to be insane
Enough to post that disk! Where was their brain?
I also heard someone's buying my flat
And told the wife, who made her pleasure plain
Knowing I'll soon be back with her and that
Cute little daughter of ours. Father's hat
Is what I'll wear tonight since, by some quirk
She's been missing me today, she complained
Last night and at school, so I'll be a bat
Out of hell, off to see them soon. The murk
Of poetry gives way to my girl's pain
Wed 21 Nov 2007
I had a chat with Angie and Elaine
I read about the scandal. Oh, to shirk
Responsibility, to be insane
Enough to post that disk! Where was their brain?
I also heard someone's buying my flat
And told the wife, who made her pleasure plain
Knowing I'll soon be back with her and that
Cute little daughter of ours. Father's hat
Is what I'll wear tonight since, by some quirk
She's been missing me today, she complained
Last night and at school, so I'll be a bat
Out of hell, off to see them soon. The murk
Of poetry gives way to my girl's pain
Wed 21 Nov 2007
442 - Disk world
My my, what a fine mess! My department -
Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs -
Put on a disk, child benefit claimants
Rather a lot, well 25 million's
The rough total after they did some sums
And included were names and addresses
National Insurance, bank accounts... Oh crumbs!
Then it got lost in the post! This mess is
A fine one! Identity Theftsville! His
Record is not so good in government
Old Gordon Brown. He's going to get the thumbs
Down if things don't improve, and my guess is
That they won't. New Labour without Blair, spent
Force? But still some years before elections...
Tue 20 Nov 2007
Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs -
Put on a disk, child benefit claimants
Rather a lot, well 25 million's
The rough total after they did some sums
And included were names and addresses
National Insurance, bank accounts... Oh crumbs!
Then it got lost in the post! This mess is
A fine one! Identity Theftsville! His
Record is not so good in government
Old Gordon Brown. He's going to get the thumbs
Down if things don't improve, and my guess is
That they won't. New Labour without Blair, spent
Force? But still some years before elections...
Tue 20 Nov 2007
441 - Cockney sonnet
I'm openin' me bleedin' norf an' sahf
To tell yer abaht norf an' sahf Englaynd
Me bleedin' norf an' sarf's me bleedin' mahf
Wot spews aht words loike a one man brahss baynd
Cockneys don't give a monkeys fer the sahnd
Ov bleedin' norverners, wiv 'ee bah gum'
An' 'doon pit' an' all that shit, coz arahnd
Landon we're more advahnced, civiloised. Cam
An' ave a Rosie Lee wiv me, moy san
An' then a flah-ah on the dogs, not 'arf
When me an' me mites 'ear the Queen, we staynd
Aproit and prahd, jas loik me dear ole Mam
Aynd nah, excuse me, it's toim fer a barf
Oi'll see ya dahn the Crahn. 'Ell's bells, oi'm baynned!!!
Mon 19 Nov 2007
To tell yer abaht norf an' sahf Englaynd
Me bleedin' norf an' sarf's me bleedin' mahf
Wot spews aht words loike a one man brahss baynd
Cockneys don't give a monkeys fer the sahnd
Ov bleedin' norverners, wiv 'ee bah gum'
An' 'doon pit' an' all that shit, coz arahnd
Landon we're more advahnced, civiloised. Cam
An' ave a Rosie Lee wiv me, moy san
An' then a flah-ah on the dogs, not 'arf
When me an' me mites 'ear the Queen, we staynd
Aproit and prahd, jas loik me dear ole Mam
Aynd nah, excuse me, it's toim fer a barf
Oi'll see ya dahn the Crahn. 'Ell's bells, oi'm baynned!!!
Mon 19 Nov 2007
440 - Family fortunes
The family, home of all that's good for sure
If you're rich. Private school, big house, flash car
The best gadgets, foreign trips. But if poor
It's smoke and drug-filled, possibly no pa
The social worker wants to take you far
Away, but where? It's scary, the unknown
Although home's where the hurt is. Also, are
The politicians just out to keep down
The tax bills of the rich with all their sound
Bites drooling about families and not your
Sick welfare-claiming spongers? Then these star
Moralists get caught red-faced with pants round
Their ankles, cash up their... Need I say more?
The family should bring peace, but nurtures war
Sun 18 Nov 2007
If you're rich. Private school, big house, flash car
The best gadgets, foreign trips. But if poor
It's smoke and drug-filled, possibly no pa
The social worker wants to take you far
Away, but where? It's scary, the unknown
Although home's where the hurt is. Also, are
The politicians just out to keep down
The tax bills of the rich with all their sound
Bites drooling about families and not your
Sick welfare-claiming spongers? Then these star
Moralists get caught red-faced with pants round
Their ankles, cash up their... Need I say more?
The family should bring peace, but nurtures war
Sun 18 Nov 2007
439 - Brass monkeys
Brrr, it's brrracing, I'm sh-shiv'rrring
Although I've got my warmest jumperrr on
No I'm not Scottish, and not hottish. Fling
Some f-f-flippin' flames somewherrrre. That Sean
Connerrry, Jimmy Bond, now he was borrrn
Norrrth o' the borrrderrr, and so guilty of
Being too kilty to get the prrronun-
ciation right. Me, I just can't be bov-
ered to rrroll my rrr's. I would send to Cov-
entry anyone who does it, or ping
Them with a tossed caberrr. But I'll listen
Quite perrrfectly to a cat's purrr. I love
A warrrm companion on my lap. Closing
With a rrreminder - cold November morrrn!
Sat 17 Nov 2007
Although I've got my warmest jumperrr on
No I'm not Scottish, and not hottish. Fling
Some f-f-flippin' flames somewherrrre. That Sean
Connerrry, Jimmy Bond, now he was borrrn
Norrrth o' the borrrderrr, and so guilty of
Being too kilty to get the prrronun-
ciation right. Me, I just can't be bov-
ered to rrroll my rrr's. I would send to Cov-
entry anyone who does it, or ping
Them with a tossed caberrr. But I'll listen
Quite perrrfectly to a cat's purrr. I love
A warrrm companion on my lap. Closing
With a rrreminder - cold November morrrn!
Sat 17 Nov 2007
438 - Too tired to drink
Too tired to drink my wine on Friday night
I'm almost retired to my bed, but fine
Tomorrow, I hope. I kept catching sight
Of the bedside clock's red numeral shine
Till 4.15 a.m. But no lie-in
Thanks to the prick who scraped his stick outside
My window on the path. He was tryin'
To scrape up leaves. God knows why. Well he tried
My patience alright. Brain scrambled and fried
I tumbled out of bed, a hideous sight
Sleepless in Salford. Hopeless to confine
Myself at home to rest, for, sadly, I'd
Arranged a bloody meeting. My boss might
Have given me a bollocking. (End whine.)
Fri 16 Nov 2007
I'm almost retired to my bed, but fine
Tomorrow, I hope. I kept catching sight
Of the bedside clock's red numeral shine
Till 4.15 a.m. But no lie-in
Thanks to the prick who scraped his stick outside
My window on the path. He was tryin'
To scrape up leaves. God knows why. Well he tried
My patience alright. Brain scrambled and fried
I tumbled out of bed, a hideous sight
Sleepless in Salford. Hopeless to confine
Myself at home to rest, for, sadly, I'd
Arranged a bloody meeting. My boss might
Have given me a bollocking. (End whine.)
Fri 16 Nov 2007
437 - Tea and poetry
Sam and Dave you all know as sixties soul
Superstars, but there's another of them
This Sam's a lady and this Dave's not. Stroll
Into a poetry night in Rotherham
Or Huddersfield or Oswaldtwistle, an'
The chances are they may be there, with me
Tonight, f'rinstance, we chanced to be in Man-
chester, at the Green Room, and poetry
With a war theme was served up with coffee
And choccy cake. Make no mistake, the whole
Night was a good 'un. Suddenly, 'leven
O' clock (how suitably northern!) came. Ee,
'Twas time for uz to buzz off 'ome. 'Put coal
On t' fire, lass, an' brew up!' said Dave to Sam
Thur 15 Nov 2007
Superstars, but there's another of them
This Sam's a lady and this Dave's not. Stroll
Into a poetry night in Rotherham
Or Huddersfield or Oswaldtwistle, an'
The chances are they may be there, with me
Tonight, f'rinstance, we chanced to be in Man-
chester, at the Green Room, and poetry
With a war theme was served up with coffee
And choccy cake. Make no mistake, the whole
Night was a good 'un. Suddenly, 'leven
O' clock (how suitably northern!) came. Ee,
'Twas time for uz to buzz off 'ome. 'Put coal
On t' fire, lass, an' brew up!' said Dave to Sam
Thur 15 Nov 2007
436 - Noisy neighbours at night
Last night my neighbours were banging away
So I couldn't relax in bed. Don't be
Misled - it wasn't sex. It seemed like they
Were moving bloody furniture, and he
Or she or both of them habitually
Bang windows and cupboards after midnight
Last night I did some banging, two or three
Times on my floor with a slipper. The height
Of selfishness, I thought. Next time I might
Launch attacks with an axe in their doorway
Smack them repeatedly to death (nearly)
Hack them in the back, deftly out of sight
Or, more sanely, complain (email, Friday)
To the management of these flats. We'll see
Wed 14 Nov 2007
So I couldn't relax in bed. Don't be
Misled - it wasn't sex. It seemed like they
Were moving bloody furniture, and he
Or she or both of them habitually
Bang windows and cupboards after midnight
Last night I did some banging, two or three
Times on my floor with a slipper. The height
Of selfishness, I thought. Next time I might
Launch attacks with an axe in their doorway
Smack them repeatedly to death (nearly)
Hack them in the back, deftly out of sight
Or, more sanely, complain (email, Friday)
To the management of these flats. We'll see
Wed 14 Nov 2007
435 - Manchester sonnet
The Manchester skyline growing like weeds
The Manchester nightlife, knives might take it
The Manchester football's better than Leeds
And Manchester Eccles cake, they bake it
In Manchester dancehalls, they all shake it
On Manchester streets all stand and smoke it
In Manchester pubs thirsty folk slake it
In Manchester this Thursday a poet
On Manchester's river you can row it
While Manchester shivers, Liverpool bleeds
Though Manchester suffers they can't break it
Cos Manchester's tough as boots, you know it
No Manchester decline, they've sown the seeds
Yes, Manchester will be fine, we'll make it
Tue 13 November 2007
The Manchester nightlife, knives might take it
The Manchester football's better than Leeds
And Manchester Eccles cake, they bake it
In Manchester dancehalls, they all shake it
On Manchester streets all stand and smoke it
In Manchester pubs thirsty folk slake it
In Manchester this Thursday a poet
On Manchester's river you can row it
While Manchester shivers, Liverpool bleeds
Though Manchester suffers they can't break it
Cos Manchester's tough as boots, you know it
No Manchester decline, they've sown the seeds
Yes, Manchester will be fine, we'll make it
Tue 13 November 2007
434 - Right on song
Good evening no-one, here's some rock n' roll...
I'll telecast my ailments to the wind
Wild as it is, the wildest is my soul
When wound up by the wounds of those who sinned
The sound of fretful friends, fiendishly spinned
By disc, discovered and destroyed by drugs
Recovered by recordings, needles pinned
To vinyl, finely scored. Bleedin' hell. Mugs
Full of a bitter wine, whine better. Slugs
That hit a tender spot, ending not old
Forever young. Kneel to music, though thinned
On top. Don't drop the pressure. Pull the rugs
The rocking chair is mine! I've lost control!
Tell the past masters I'm one of their kind!
Mon 12 Nov 2007
I'll telecast my ailments to the wind
Wild as it is, the wildest is my soul
When wound up by the wounds of those who sinned
The sound of fretful friends, fiendishly spinned
By disc, discovered and destroyed by drugs
Recovered by recordings, needles pinned
To vinyl, finely scored. Bleedin' hell. Mugs
Full of a bitter wine, whine better. Slugs
That hit a tender spot, ending not old
Forever young. Kneel to music, though thinned
On top. Don't drop the pressure. Pull the rugs
The rocking chair is mine! I've lost control!
Tell the past masters I'm one of their kind!
Mon 12 Nov 2007
433 - We must remember them
Today's the day we remember the dead
Not all the dead, just ones that the state killed
In fighting some other state over bread
Earned from oil, or squabbling over soil filled
With bones not belonging to states, but mild-
Supposedly free - people, forced at gun-
Point to appoint their kids to some well-drilled
Boatman to row them over the Styx. Sun
Sets on all empires, all riches, all fun
But while we're here the stately race goes on
And let's face it - when our side's won we've said
Well done, to our hired fists so young and skilled
Their blood was spilled to keep us all well-fed
At others' expense. A toast! Red wine, chilled
Sun 11 Nov 2007
Not all the dead, just ones that the state killed
In fighting some other state over bread
Earned from oil, or squabbling over soil filled
With bones not belonging to states, but mild-
Supposedly free - people, forced at gun-
Point to appoint their kids to some well-drilled
Boatman to row them over the Styx. Sun
Sets on all empires, all riches, all fun
But while we're here the stately race goes on
And let's face it - when our side's won we've said
Well done, to our hired fists so young and skilled
Their blood was spilled to keep us all well-fed
At others' expense. A toast! Red wine, chilled
Sun 11 Nov 2007
432 - Things we don't need
Been driving without a rear-view mirror
It came unstuck and stayed that way, hidden
In the glove compartment. (Who keeps gloves there?)
It's fixed now but I know what I wouldn't
Have thought possible before. No sudden
Collisions, all was clear, using the wing
Mirrors like a van driver. I couldn't
Have imagined wearing no watch. Knowing
The time's essential. But it's been showing
Itself elsewhere. Bedside clock. Computer
Office clock. See? Surprising how often
You can easily do without something
So drive on till you get there, and don't care
What time it takes. The brakes are forgotten...
Sat 10 Nov 2007
It came unstuck and stayed that way, hidden
In the glove compartment. (Who keeps gloves there?)
It's fixed now but I know what I wouldn't
Have thought possible before. No sudden
Collisions, all was clear, using the wing
Mirrors like a van driver. I couldn't
Have imagined wearing no watch. Knowing
The time's essential. But it's been showing
Itself elsewhere. Bedside clock. Computer
Office clock. See? Surprising how often
You can easily do without something
So drive on till you get there, and don't care
What time it takes. The brakes are forgotten...
Sat 10 Nov 2007
431 - Old sonnet blues no 2
I feel so bad, got a headache today
My brain has had it, thoughts have gone astray
So glad I'm off work - got to make it pay
Can't decide, do I go out or stay in?
A bus ride, or just watch television
I tried to write a song - don't want to sing
Need to eat and drink, but don't have the time
All these spam emails, I think it's a crime
So I'll just sink down - can't think of a rhyme
(Break)
Can't decide, do I stay in or go out?
A bus ride, or sit down, potter about
Sometimes you wanna hide - or maybe shout
I feel so bad, I said I feel so bad
I said I feel so bad, I feel so bad
Fri 9 Nov 2007
My brain has had it, thoughts have gone astray
So glad I'm off work - got to make it pay
Can't decide, do I go out or stay in?
A bus ride, or just watch television
I tried to write a song - don't want to sing
Need to eat and drink, but don't have the time
All these spam emails, I think it's a crime
So I'll just sink down - can't think of a rhyme
(Break)
Can't decide, do I stay in or go out?
A bus ride, or sit down, potter about
Sometimes you wanna hide - or maybe shout
I feel so bad, I said I feel so bad
I said I feel so bad, I feel so bad
Fri 9 Nov 2007
430 - Old sonnet blues
I'm leaving one week from now, or sooner
Said, leaving one week from now, or sooner
I've had a good time, gotta move on now
Time takes its toll, gotta roll, can't stay here
Time takes its toll, gotta roll, can't stay here
This place ain't so cool, time to disappear
You try for love, you get shoved out the way
You try for love, you get shoved out the way
The dove has flown, the wind's blown love away
(Break)
You pay your dues, you lose, sometimes you gain
You pay your dues, you lose, sometimes you gain
But staying in one place just brings you pain
Got a bad case of the old sonnet blues
Just gotta face these goddam sonnet blues
Thur 8 Nov 2007
Said, leaving one week from now, or sooner
I've had a good time, gotta move on now
Time takes its toll, gotta roll, can't stay here
Time takes its toll, gotta roll, can't stay here
This place ain't so cool, time to disappear
You try for love, you get shoved out the way
You try for love, you get shoved out the way
The dove has flown, the wind's blown love away
(Break)
You pay your dues, you lose, sometimes you gain
You pay your dues, you lose, sometimes you gain
But staying in one place just brings you pain
Got a bad case of the old sonnet blues
Just gotta face these goddam sonnet blues
Thur 8 Nov 2007
429 - Paying court to Mr McCourt
Tonight I went out to a book reading
By the author of Angela's Ashes
Frank McCourt by name. He'd just come flying
In from New York to talk of the wishes
His mother (Angela) had had. Riches
For five surviving kids - two had died young -
That couldn't be found where the rain lashes
Down on all Irish heads, by hellfire stung
Both in life and in death. The changes rung,
Atlantic crossing, Frank discussed teaching
Surprising his coarse siblings, caused splashes
Of beer on their moustaches. But he hung
In there, and found his tales were interesting
As he talked to New York's kids in classes
Wed 7 Nov 2007
By the author of Angela's Ashes
Frank McCourt by name. He'd just come flying
In from New York to talk of the wishes
His mother (Angela) had had. Riches
For five surviving kids - two had died young -
That couldn't be found where the rain lashes
Down on all Irish heads, by hellfire stung
Both in life and in death. The changes rung,
Atlantic crossing, Frank discussed teaching
Surprising his coarse siblings, caused splashes
Of beer on their moustaches. But he hung
In there, and found his tales were interesting
As he talked to New York's kids in classes
Wed 7 Nov 2007
428 - Thinking, drinking and inking
I sit here with a beer, near desperate
To hear clearly my disappearing muse
Though friendships end, I still depend on great
Thoughts sending, wending their way, splendid hues
That dazzle, hassle-free, castle-top views
That pass all puzzled muzzled logic's bounds
That grind of finding binding lines that fuse
The mind and blind feelings rhymed with such sounds
That emphasise the length and strength of mounds
Of penned ponderings, when will it then abate?
Not till the thrill is filled from which amuse-
ment spills, time's killed, my will is paid in pounds
Or dollars, while scholars follow my fate
Solitary fellows in yellow-lit pews
Tue 6 Nov 2007
To hear clearly my disappearing muse
Though friendships end, I still depend on great
Thoughts sending, wending their way, splendid hues
That dazzle, hassle-free, castle-top views
That pass all puzzled muzzled logic's bounds
That grind of finding binding lines that fuse
The mind and blind feelings rhymed with such sounds
That emphasise the length and strength of mounds
Of penned ponderings, when will it then abate?
Not till the thrill is filled from which amuse-
ment spills, time's killed, my will is paid in pounds
Or dollars, while scholars follow my fate
Solitary fellows in yellow-lit pews
Tue 6 Nov 2007
427 - Stopping Christmas shopping
The Christmas tree now stands in Sainsbury's
As you go in to shop. You're bound to stop
Astounded by the early nagging. Please
Don't play that Christmas pop yet while I shop
Gold star, your hold atop this silver prop
Of tinsel will intensify the till's
Tinkling, as your twinkling makes young eyes pop
And poppas ill with whopping shopping bills
This Scrooge-like killjoy cantankerously wills
The cancellation, please, of all of these
Festivities that chop down pines. They drop
And fester, wilting with wallet appeals
Listen to me, you glisten and you tease
But this has got to stop. Out of my shop!
Mon 5 Nov 2007
As you go in to shop. You're bound to stop
Astounded by the early nagging. Please
Don't play that Christmas pop yet while I shop
Gold star, your hold atop this silver prop
Of tinsel will intensify the till's
Tinkling, as your twinkling makes young eyes pop
And poppas ill with whopping shopping bills
This Scrooge-like killjoy cantankerously wills
The cancellation, please, of all of these
Festivities that chop down pines. They drop
And fester, wilting with wallet appeals
Listen to me, you glisten and you tease
But this has got to stop. Out of my shop!
Mon 5 Nov 2007
426 - Good and bad
It's been a fun weekend, fireworks and all
To celebrate Guy Fawkes, conspirator
They're everywhere, you know. They trip, you fall
But you won't know who did it till later
If ever. JFK and his brother
Left without knowing, without deserving
Their going, specially in that way. They were
Brave men shot from the shadows, shots ringing
From hot guns of mad foes. But now slinging
Guns away, I say I had fun, a ball
With my wife and our ball of fun daughter
Whose face full of life I have caught laughing
With flashing camera, smashing warts and all
Close-ups of a fine actress aged just four
Sun 4 Nov 2007
To celebrate Guy Fawkes, conspirator
They're everywhere, you know. They trip, you fall
But you won't know who did it till later
If ever. JFK and his brother
Left without knowing, without deserving
Their going, specially in that way. They were
Brave men shot from the shadows, shots ringing
From hot guns of mad foes. But now slinging
Guns away, I say I had fun, a ball
With my wife and our ball of fun daughter
Whose face full of life I have caught laughing
With flashing camera, smashing warts and all
Close-ups of a fine actress aged just four
Sun 4 Nov 2007
425 - Watch the birdy
I like a bit of bird watching myself
Down in the supermarket, 'mongst the greens
And oranges. Finding one on the shelf
Is best. (No whingeing partners, no more scenes...)
The tits (or chickadees) hatch eggs and schemes
They'll flit down, drink your cream and then they'll shit
All over the place. While on birdy themes
The sadly-missed comedian, Jack Daw, Brit
And, unlike Jack Straw, really quite a wit
Has flown off, henpecked. Don't expect the filth
To find the tit behind it. Birds are fiends
At feeding time. They climb to treetops, sit
Then plummet from their summit with such stealth...
Gobbling a grub, she gabbles and she preens
Sat 3 Nov 2007
Down in the supermarket, 'mongst the greens
And oranges. Finding one on the shelf
Is best. (No whingeing partners, no more scenes...)
The tits (or chickadees) hatch eggs and schemes
They'll flit down, drink your cream and then they'll shit
All over the place. While on birdy themes
The sadly-missed comedian, Jack Daw, Brit
And, unlike Jack Straw, really quite a wit
Has flown off, henpecked. Don't expect the filth
To find the tit behind it. Birds are fiends
At feeding time. They climb to treetops, sit
Then plummet from their summit with such stealth...
Gobbling a grub, she gabbles and she preens
Sat 3 Nov 2007
424 - Free speech
The nervous crowd that gathered in the square
Stood in the shade of marble generals
And bit their nails and garbled. Everywhere
It seemd they were being observed. The halls
And porticoes were guarded. The cobbles
Rang with the sound of boots. Then came a cheer
Just one at first, then growing like bubbles
Blown by a carefree child. Now freed from fear
The crowd buzzed and then fell silent. He's here
They thought. He will speak about the unfair
Oppression. He'll stand up for us. It falls
In the face of clear argument. A dear
And smiling face, arms outstretched. Into air
A hundred black birds launched from roofs and walls
Fri 2 Nov 2007
Stood in the shade of marble generals
And bit their nails and garbled. Everywhere
It seemd they were being observed. The halls
And porticoes were guarded. The cobbles
Rang with the sound of boots. Then came a cheer
Just one at first, then growing like bubbles
Blown by a carefree child. Now freed from fear
The crowd buzzed and then fell silent. He's here
They thought. He will speak about the unfair
Oppression. He'll stand up for us. It falls
In the face of clear argument. A dear
And smiling face, arms outstretched. Into air
A hundred black birds launched from roofs and walls
Fri 2 Nov 2007
Monday 20 December 2010
423 - I speak with Fawked tongue
Remember remember in November
The fall guy that they put on the bonfire
Was Guy Fawkes a bad man, or a member
Of the wrong group? Does he deserve his pyre?
Should we preserve his image, pluck the lyre
In honour of his pluck, or castigate
Him as a nasty man prone to conspire
Against the general good, the hand of fate?
The fireworks start much earlier of late
Kids throw them, blow themselves up, dismember
Themselves or others. Brothers, town crier
Lord Mayor, Your Majesty, defuse the hate
Don't wait till we're reduced to an ember
Free speech or death! The plot sickens, good sire...
Thur 1 Nov 07
The fall guy that they put on the bonfire
Was Guy Fawkes a bad man, or a member
Of the wrong group? Does he deserve his pyre?
Should we preserve his image, pluck the lyre
In honour of his pluck, or castigate
Him as a nasty man prone to conspire
Against the general good, the hand of fate?
The fireworks start much earlier of late
Kids throw them, blow themselves up, dismember
Themselves or others. Brothers, town crier
Lord Mayor, Your Majesty, defuse the hate
Don't wait till we're reduced to an ember
Free speech or death! The plot sickens, good sire...
Thur 1 Nov 07
422 - Does not compute
I had a corrupted modem, so them
So-called experts told me, sold me the tale
That I could fix it before six and then
Join Josephine's Halloween scene - can't fail!
But certainly Sod (and Murphy) prevail
On both sides of th' Atlantic. What antics
Especially in silly Silicon Vale
Of death by misconnection. Heck, how sick's
This, that I'm cut off, put off, shut off. (Pricks)
Please fix it. Well, after tricks and treats, when
I reinstalled it, it stonewalled. Exhale
I might, but tonight there's no cyberkicks
Wed 31 Oct 07
So-called experts told me, sold me the tale
That I could fix it before six and then
Join Josephine's Halloween scene - can't fail!
But certainly Sod (and Murphy) prevail
On both sides of th' Atlantic. What antics
Especially in silly Silicon Vale
Of death by misconnection. Heck, how sick's
This, that I'm cut off, put off, shut off. (Pricks)
Please fix it. Well, after tricks and treats, when
I reinstalled it, it stonewalled. Exhale
I might, but tonight there's no cyberkicks
Wed 31 Oct 07
421 - Serves me wrong
My email's not working! Come on, server
Do what it says on the tin, and serve me
So now, cos I'm such a lazy bugger
The deadline date's tomorrow for entry
Into a big contest of poetry
And guess what? I've not yet got round to e-
Mailing it off. Lazybones, luckily
Has not yet written the poem that he
Would have entered. Laziness pays, tee hee!
Oh well, no point in worrying when there
Are sayings just for this, like 'C'est la vie!'
So, be stoical of philosophy
Let the chips fall where they may, I don't care
Fish and chips! Mmm, now that's got me hungry...
Tue 30 Oct 07
Do what it says on the tin, and serve me
So now, cos I'm such a lazy bugger
The deadline date's tomorrow for entry
Into a big contest of poetry
And guess what? I've not yet got round to e-
Mailing it off. Lazybones, luckily
Has not yet written the poem that he
Would have entered. Laziness pays, tee hee!
Oh well, no point in worrying when there
Are sayings just for this, like 'C'est la vie!'
So, be stoical of philosophy
Let the chips fall where they may, I don't care
Fish and chips! Mmm, now that's got me hungry...
Tue 30 Oct 07
420 - Dead dreams
Woke up at six, tried to get back to sleep
Dreams starting, then stopping immediately
I couldn't cross that threshold into deep
Dark pyramids of times gone or to be
But lay yawning the dawn away, slowly
Waking to my fate, Great! I thought, this means
I'll be cream-crackered, low on energy
A half-empty, not half-full, tin of beans
Too tired even to summon up those scenes
Of soft-core sexual sickness I've seen creep
Across my inner screen repeatedly
Auditions by wannabes, might-have-beens
No fanfares, only cold water, the seep
Of Monday, caught in its reality
Mon 29 Oct 07
Dreams starting, then stopping immediately
I couldn't cross that threshold into deep
Dark pyramids of times gone or to be
But lay yawning the dawn away, slowly
Waking to my fate, Great! I thought, this means
I'll be cream-crackered, low on energy
A half-empty, not half-full, tin of beans
Too tired even to summon up those scenes
Of soft-core sexual sickness I've seen creep
Across my inner screen repeatedly
Auditions by wannabes, might-have-beens
No fanfares, only cold water, the seep
Of Monday, caught in its reality
Mon 29 Oct 07
419 - Can you afford to be healthy?
Last night my son and me saw the devil
In human form, and the name of the beast
Is Michael Moore. Yet he had his revel-
ation about US healthcare, not least
That Cuba's is far fairer. From the east
They fled for freedom, loving Liberty
But finding, after they'd finally pieced
It all together, a new tyranny
The name of this new beast being Money
Bow down, oh Freedom-worshippers! Level
In theory, but excluded from the feast
If poor or of selfless philosophy
Directed towards hate and fear, civil
Discontent deflected abroad. No peace
Sun 28 Oct 07
In human form, and the name of the beast
Is Michael Moore. Yet he had his revel-
ation about US healthcare, not least
That Cuba's is far fairer. From the east
They fled for freedom, loving Liberty
But finding, after they'd finally pieced
It all together, a new tyranny
The name of this new beast being Money
Bow down, oh Freedom-worshippers! Level
In theory, but excluded from the feast
If poor or of selfless philosophy
Directed towards hate and fear, civil
Discontent deflected abroad. No peace
Sun 28 Oct 07
418 - Here I go, here I go, here I go
I'm so happy, I've got a cheesier grin
Than that on the face of Man in the Moon
From today only good things will begin
I'm sure I'll win a poetry contest soon!
My fortune's rising, a helium balloon
That can only be popped by Father Time
But he's as lazy as Santa in June
Watch me mark my hundredth birthday in rhyme
Other good news? Well, Dubya's pantomime
Has reached its final scene, the audience in
Excited mood, waiting for a new tune
I've even won all this week's bets. Bells, chime!
I haven't smoked for months, drinking has been
Cut back. Things are going my way, I croon...
Sat 27 Oct 07
Than that on the face of Man in the Moon
From today only good things will begin
I'm sure I'll win a poetry contest soon!
My fortune's rising, a helium balloon
That can only be popped by Father Time
But he's as lazy as Santa in June
Watch me mark my hundredth birthday in rhyme
Other good news? Well, Dubya's pantomime
Has reached its final scene, the audience in
Excited mood, waiting for a new tune
I've even won all this week's bets. Bells, chime!
I haven't smoked for months, drinking has been
Cut back. Things are going my way, I croon...
Sat 27 Oct 07
417 - Cold comfort flat
Life's not much fun when you're old and alone
The heating's broke or turned off to save cash
Your kids have left and rarely even phone
You're haunted by that burglar's window smash
And grab. Christmas is coming, but no flash
Of pretty lights will be adorning your
Forgotten flat, up in the rain clouds. Splash
Some water on those plants on your tenth floor
Balcony overlooking all the poor
And lonely people. But you mustn't moan
Not even when your blood runs from the gash
Because you know that no-one cares no more
The hooded kids are hunting for old crone
To look for help in these times would be rash
Fri 26 Oct 07
The heating's broke or turned off to save cash
Your kids have left and rarely even phone
You're haunted by that burglar's window smash
And grab. Christmas is coming, but no flash
Of pretty lights will be adorning your
Forgotten flat, up in the rain clouds. Splash
Some water on those plants on your tenth floor
Balcony overlooking all the poor
And lonely people. But you mustn't moan
Not even when your blood runs from the gash
Because you know that no-one cares no more
The hooded kids are hunting for old crone
To look for help in these times would be rash
Fri 26 Oct 07
416 - Read all about it and weep
Now here is the news - read all about it
The heat is being turned up on Iran
By the Yank and his follower the Brit
While Bush fires off his warning shots, fireman
In California douses bush fires. San
Diego County houses up in smoke
And focusing on dust and destruction
The earth is drying up, too many folk
Wanting water and soil. Cities that choke
Rivers with sewage. Lifeblood turned to shit
They still haven't found Madeleine McCann
New tumour strikes Russell Watson, poor bloke
Two boys crossing the M56 hit
Good evening! Do enjoy it if you can
Thur 25 Oct 07
The heat is being turned up on Iran
By the Yank and his follower the Brit
While Bush fires off his warning shots, fireman
In California douses bush fires. San
Diego County houses up in smoke
And focusing on dust and destruction
The earth is drying up, too many folk
Wanting water and soil. Cities that choke
Rivers with sewage. Lifeblood turned to shit
They still haven't found Madeleine McCann
New tumour strikes Russell Watson, poor bloke
Two boys crossing the M56 hit
Good evening! Do enjoy it if you can
Thur 25 Oct 07
415 - First visit to Poetica
The darkness settled as we strangers sat
In the second floor room of the library
The bald host did not ask for names and that
He merely read his poem quite quickly
We then tried to comment, well, as best we
Could, though there was a long nervous silence
At first, broken by the newcomer, me
Though I was wary of causing offence
I did not understand his work, its sense
Escaped me till explained. My turn to bat
Eventually came and so, hurriedly
Sifting, I chose Beethoven's Ninth, immense
But well-known, as my theme. Had a good chat
After. Walked home through dark streets warily
Wed 24 Oct 07
In the second floor room of the library
The bald host did not ask for names and that
He merely read his poem quite quickly
We then tried to comment, well, as best we
Could, though there was a long nervous silence
At first, broken by the newcomer, me
Though I was wary of causing offence
I did not understand his work, its sense
Escaped me till explained. My turn to bat
Eventually came and so, hurriedly
Sifting, I chose Beethoven's Ninth, immense
But well-known, as my theme. Had a good chat
After. Walked home through dark streets warily
Wed 24 Oct 07
414 - Poetic inquisition
What is a poem? Something that is clever
Or can a good one be simple and clear?
If academics aren't inspired to blather
May lesser mortals meanwhile persevere?
Is quality determined by the year
And current trends, a need for industry
Insiders to decide in your favour
If you cater to them, not what you see?
Nobody owns your mind, so keep it free
From dilution by spoilt brat editor
Don't tell them what you think they want to hear
And write with your own personality
And personally I think that is better
Than choosing slavery as a career
Tue 23 Oct 07
Or can a good one be simple and clear?
If academics aren't inspired to blather
May lesser mortals meanwhile persevere?
Is quality determined by the year
And current trends, a need for industry
Insiders to decide in your favour
If you cater to them, not what you see?
Nobody owns your mind, so keep it free
From dilution by spoilt brat editor
Don't tell them what you think they want to hear
And write with your own personality
And personally I think that is better
Than choosing slavery as a career
Tue 23 Oct 07
413 - Seven minute sonnet
The five minute sonnet, this is my quest!
It won't be good, but trying is the thing
Like the Olympics, it's not just who's best
But who takes part we're congratulating
Oh no, two minutes gone! I am losing!
I must write stream of consciousness stuff now
No time to worry, fret or fuss, but sing
Whatever sudden thoughts your thoughts allow
One minute left. Looks like I've failed, somehow
It's gone just like the sun down in the west
And British hopes of success of sporting
Kind. To my harsh fate it seems I must bow
Well here's the couplet, and I'm on the crest
Of a seven minute sonnet. Ch-ching!
Mon 22 Oct 07
It won't be good, but trying is the thing
Like the Olympics, it's not just who's best
But who takes part we're congratulating
Oh no, two minutes gone! I am losing!
I must write stream of consciousness stuff now
No time to worry, fret or fuss, but sing
Whatever sudden thoughts your thoughts allow
One minute left. Looks like I've failed, somehow
It's gone just like the sun down in the west
And British hopes of success of sporting
Kind. To my harsh fate it seems I must bow
Well here's the couplet, and I'm on the crest
Of a seven minute sonnet. Ch-ching!
Mon 22 Oct 07
412 - Racing certainty
Today's a new day, today's a new sport
The rugby's finished, but motor racing
Has reached its own final. This season's caught
Fire after dull years of engines ticking
Over, the great Schumacher years ending
The German retiring, and Alonso
Taking over, conquistador, new king
But wait! Who the hell's this kid out of no-
Where, Lewis Hamilton? At his first go
At Formula One, he's been the one sought
By older drivers, trying and failing
To catch him on track or leader board. Go
Lewis! Good luck in Brazil! You have taught
Your elders a lesson with your driving
The rugby's finished, but motor racing
Has reached its own final. This season's caught
Fire after dull years of engines ticking
Over, the great Schumacher years ending
The German retiring, and Alonso
Taking over, conquistador, new king
But wait! Who the hell's this kid out of no-
Where, Lewis Hamilton? At his first go
At Formula One, he's been the one sought
By older drivers, trying and failing
To catch him on track or leader board. Go
Lewis! Good luck in Brazil! You have taught
Your elders a lesson with your driving
411 - Rugby bugs me
I've just seen England lose the Cup Final
To the clear favourites, South Africa
I knew it wasn't our night, the signal
Being the disallowed try. Superior
The Springboks may have been, the line-out a
Triumphant force, Montgomery's kicking
Powerful, accurate, a rapier
Thrust into the white shirt, red rose bleeding
But talking positive, we are breeding
Some good players. Tait was great above all
And Jonny Wilkinson's still got a year
Or four in him, so, for now, keep singing
Swing low, sweet chariot. Carry the ball
With pride. You tried but you're not the victor
Sat 20 Oct 07
To the clear favourites, South Africa
I knew it wasn't our night, the signal
Being the disallowed try. Superior
The Springboks may have been, the line-out a
Triumphant force, Montgomery's kicking
Powerful, accurate, a rapier
Thrust into the white shirt, red rose bleeding
But talking positive, we are breeding
Some good players. Tait was great above all
And Jonny Wilkinson's still got a year
Or four in him, so, for now, keep singing
Swing low, sweet chariot. Carry the ball
With pride. You tried but you're not the victor
Sat 20 Oct 07
410 - From here to eternity?
If there's an afterlife we'll all be there
Some might be up and others might be down
In heaven even the wife is now fair
But in hell see her mother's mighty frown
Or might we just be spirits floating round
The universe, oiling atomic wheels
In flight, adjusting Sirius, coating ground
Of unique earths with soil on which life steals?
Or might we be reborn as kings or eels
Tied to big wheels of desire, no funfair
To blighted Cobains, nirvana's a crown
Hide with fig leaves that fire the devil fuels
But if there's nothing we don't need to care
For if there's nothing, nothing will be known
Fri 19 Oct 10
Some might be up and others might be down
In heaven even the wife is now fair
But in hell see her mother's mighty frown
Or might we just be spirits floating round
The universe, oiling atomic wheels
In flight, adjusting Sirius, coating ground
Of unique earths with soil on which life steals?
Or might we be reborn as kings or eels
Tied to big wheels of desire, no funfair
To blighted Cobains, nirvana's a crown
Hide with fig leaves that fire the devil fuels
But if there's nothing we don't need to care
For if there's nothing, nothing will be known
Fri 19 Oct 10
409 - It takes a worried man
I need to stay slim but I need to eat
I need to do things but I need to rest
I need to be kind but need to compete
I need to relax but I need a test
I need the east but also need the west
I need to write this but need to write that
I need a partner but alone is best
I need her skinny but I need some fat
I need coolness but need to act the prat
I need to ignore but I need to greet
I need comfort but need to be well-dressed
I need more room but need a simple flat
I need focus but need to be complete
I need to kill but also need to jest
Thur 18 Oct 07
I need to do things but I need to rest
I need to be kind but need to compete
I need to relax but I need a test
I need the east but also need the west
I need to write this but need to write that
I need a partner but alone is best
I need her skinny but I need some fat
I need coolness but need to act the prat
I need to ignore but I need to greet
I need comfort but need to be well-dressed
I need more room but need a simple flat
I need focus but need to be complete
I need to kill but also need to jest
Thur 18 Oct 07
408 - From Moscow to Hebden Bridge
As England, like Napoleon before
Capitulate in Moscow, on the field
Of football, thankfully, and not of war
I type this, feeling that their fate is sealed
I can't wait, you see. I've not even mealed!
But the thing is, I'm going out tonight
To Stubbing Wharf in Hebden. I've appealed
To your sympathy for this hurried write
I hope you grant it, for I'm in a plight
It's poetry night behind the old pub door
The ghosts of Hughes and Plath barely concealed
In listeners' and readers' shared excite
Ment. I also need to get a mirror
For my car, and cash. All will be revealed...
Wed 17 Oct 07
Capitulate in Moscow, on the field
Of football, thankfully, and not of war
I type this, feeling that their fate is sealed
I can't wait, you see. I've not even mealed!
But the thing is, I'm going out tonight
To Stubbing Wharf in Hebden. I've appealed
To your sympathy for this hurried write
I hope you grant it, for I'm in a plight
It's poetry night behind the old pub door
The ghosts of Hughes and Plath barely concealed
In listeners' and readers' shared excite
Ment. I also need to get a mirror
For my car, and cash. All will be revealed...
Wed 17 Oct 07
407 - 87 Heaven
I've just been watching video footage
Me and my first wife shot in 87
On old-style tape, for this digital age
Resurrected, now in DVD heaven
Film of the now sadly-missed sunken garden
At Piccadilly, the old Marks and Sparks
And a long bus ride into the past, driven
Past what were southern Manchester's landmarks
We filmed those ducks and goats now gone from parks
No longer safe from stupid youthful rage
Acting the fool in Liverpool, and given
Fine summer sunshine for our youthful larks
Now halfway through my book, that early page
Reread reveals so much that I'd forgotten
Sun 16 Oct 07
Me and my first wife shot in 87
On old-style tape, for this digital age
Resurrected, now in DVD heaven
Film of the now sadly-missed sunken garden
At Piccadilly, the old Marks and Sparks
And a long bus ride into the past, driven
Past what were southern Manchester's landmarks
We filmed those ducks and goats now gone from parks
No longer safe from stupid youthful rage
Acting the fool in Liverpool, and given
Fine summer sunshine for our youthful larks
Now halfway through my book, that early page
Reread reveals so much that I'd forgotten
Sun 16 Oct 07
406 - Les feuilles mortes
The orange leaves peer in through the window
Of my third-floor flat, their wind-powered wave
A gentle farewell. "Enjoy us! You know
We'll soon be sodden rubbish with no grave!"
Methodically, nature knows how to save
The value from this waste that is not waste
The fuel in coal, or symbol of the brave
And stubborn English, those white cliffs all laced
With aeons of sea-dwellers, ground to paste
Then hardened into sacred land, the flow
Of scouring salt sea halting. As we crave
More heat and power, extracting wealth in haste
We overspend, but we'll reap what we sow
So repay earth's account with what it gave
Mon 15 Oct 07
Of my third-floor flat, their wind-powered wave
A gentle farewell. "Enjoy us! You know
We'll soon be sodden rubbish with no grave!"
Methodically, nature knows how to save
The value from this waste that is not waste
The fuel in coal, or symbol of the brave
And stubborn English, those white cliffs all laced
With aeons of sea-dwellers, ground to paste
Then hardened into sacred land, the flow
Of scouring salt sea halting. As we crave
More heat and power, extracting wealth in haste
We overspend, but we'll reap what we sow
So repay earth's account with what it gave
Mon 15 Oct 07
405 - Bless this damned house
The family unit is the place to be
Especially when the times are getting bad
When interest rates are rising and money
Is scarce, good investments aren't to be had
And then, as you become just an old dad
No longer looked at by the lustful eyes
Of the young, then the family's not so bad
No money, no looks, not such a surprise
That you accept her unfair shouts and cries
What's the alternative, a new lady?
How much would that cost? Would she like my pad?
Would I have to eat salad, drop the pies?
Nah, best to stick with what fate has dealt me
And it's enough, I think, for this old lad
Sun 14 Oct 07
Especially when the times are getting bad
When interest rates are rising and money
Is scarce, good investments aren't to be had
And then, as you become just an old dad
No longer looked at by the lustful eyes
Of the young, then the family's not so bad
No money, no looks, not such a surprise
That you accept her unfair shouts and cries
What's the alternative, a new lady?
How much would that cost? Would she like my pad?
Would I have to eat salad, drop the pies?
Nah, best to stick with what fate has dealt me
And it's enough, I think, for this old lad
Sun 14 Oct 07
404 - 14 on 404
Phwoarrr, 404's a poem in itself!
Start from the left and it says 404
Start from the right, the same. There is a wealth
Of balanced sound and vision. If you're sore
It's 'LOL' crossed out, if written, or
If typed, two yachts each side of setting sun
Or two pines in moonshine, awaiting saw
For I fear 404 has just begun
404's a cricket score; someone's won
But probably not England. Or it's wealth
Measured in dollars if your country's poor
Or pages in a schoolbook - that's no fun!
I've used 'wealth' twice - this poem's in poor health
It's falling on the floor. Oh 404!
Sat 13 Oct 07
Start from the left and it says 404
Start from the right, the same. There is a wealth
Of balanced sound and vision. If you're sore
It's 'LOL' crossed out, if written, or
If typed, two yachts each side of setting sun
Or two pines in moonshine, awaiting saw
For I fear 404 has just begun
404's a cricket score; someone's won
But probably not England. Or it's wealth
Measured in dollars if your country's poor
Or pages in a schoolbook - that's no fun!
I've used 'wealth' twice - this poem's in poor health
It's falling on the floor. Oh 404!
Sat 13 Oct 07
403 - Frequent flyer foresees his death
Should the wings of the aeroplanes be clipped?
Should flights be rationed to just two a year
Unless on business? Taxes haven't gripped
The airlines tightly yet, but they are sure
To do so in the future, more and more
When flights will be too costly for the proles
Who flew too high, splashed out on the sea's roar
And second homes in Spanish watering holes
Fairness suggests a system that just doles
Out one return plane journey, max - all tripped
And happy. But I see the flight path's clear -
Only the loaded will take sunny strolls
As ever, tax will squeeze us till we're pipped
While for flush frequent flyers? As you were...
Fri 12 Oct 07
Should flights be rationed to just two a year
Unless on business? Taxes haven't gripped
The airlines tightly yet, but they are sure
To do so in the future, more and more
When flights will be too costly for the proles
Who flew too high, splashed out on the sea's roar
And second homes in Spanish watering holes
Fairness suggests a system that just doles
Out one return plane journey, max - all tripped
And happy. But I see the flight path's clear -
Only the loaded will take sunny strolls
As ever, tax will squeeze us till we're pipped
While for flush frequent flyers? As you were...
Fri 12 Oct 07
402 - Another Tony, another poet
Retired early, but spent half last night
Reading sonnets by Tony Harrison
Who, like me, likes simple language that might
Mean something to a housewife, working man
And uses rhythm and rhyme, makes it scan
Doesn't like chopped-up prose (gets up his nose)
Well-travelled, he's lived with the African
The North and South American, the snows
Of Leeds and Newcastle; described all those
Best of all was the way he still burned bright
With love for all his proud parents had done
Enabling him to read, all night, his prose
And poetry, like me, and, by lamplight
Appreciating luxuries hard won
Thur 11 Oct 2007
Reading sonnets by Tony Harrison
Who, like me, likes simple language that might
Mean something to a housewife, working man
And uses rhythm and rhyme, makes it scan
Doesn't like chopped-up prose (gets up his nose)
Well-travelled, he's lived with the African
The North and South American, the snows
Of Leeds and Newcastle; described all those
Best of all was the way he still burned bright
With love for all his proud parents had done
Enabling him to read, all night, his prose
And poetry, like me, and, by lamplight
Appreciating luxuries hard won
Thur 11 Oct 2007
401 - Super flesh market
The best place to see glamorous sexy girls
At the cheapest prices? Well why not try
The supermarket at tea-time? What thrills
Down each aisle! You can play secret I spy
Weighing up their goods with a precise eye
While smartly dressed young ladies are bending
Examining the eggs as you edge by
Carelessly carrying carrots, spending
Freely, caressing cress, just pretending
To like fruit and veg. Hang out by the pills
Or the cheesy balls, where the big girls lie -
Their special offers are never-ending!
Swap e-numbers, and when you pay your bills
At the checkout, check her out. Buy buy buy!
Wed 10 Oct 2007
At the cheapest prices? Well why not try
The supermarket at tea-time? What thrills
Down each aisle! You can play secret I spy
Weighing up their goods with a precise eye
While smartly dressed young ladies are bending
Examining the eggs as you edge by
Carelessly carrying carrots, spending
Freely, caressing cress, just pretending
To like fruit and veg. Hang out by the pills
Or the cheesy balls, where the big girls lie -
Their special offers are never-ending!
Swap e-numbers, and when you pay your bills
At the checkout, check her out. Buy buy buy!
Wed 10 Oct 2007
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