1052 - Monsoon gone soon?

The dark monsoon season soon seems endless
The dark mongoose is loose about this house
The dark mongrel smells terrible, noseless
The dark monkey sees nothing; he is wise
The dark shadows grow; groaning phantoms rouse
The dark madhouse lets loose all its MPs
The dark padlock shuts in my sluttish mouse
The dark sad dock, empty but for the breeze
The dark late afternoon and evening freeze
The dark gate swings; blackbird sings my distress
The dark mate, vanished; panic, self-abuse
The dark fate waits for an end to journeys
The dark sonnet, on its fourteen-line verse
The dark swan on its sunless river cruise
Wed 22 July 2009

1013 - Long day's journey into Salford

Sitting here in the Manchester Museum
While Josie colours in all her pictures
For two weeks now, we’ve come here for a swim
But the big pool was closed down for repairs
Wasting no time, we flew straight out of there
And came here for a curious look round
We saw glass cases full of stuffed creatures
Bats, foxes, rabbits, birds that made no sound…
Then later, walking to United’s ground
Along the Ship Canal side; evening sun
Shone on us and the Lowry while we paused
For refreshment; then past the Quays we wound
Our way back to my flat. The total sum
Of this was we had our best time for years!
Sat 13 June 2009

1007 - On the rocks

The big white bear balances awkwardly
On a Glacier Mint, melting, melting
He’ll need to grow fins and webbed feet quickly
So few fish, plenty of room for swimming
No shortage of water, levels rising
I shouldn’t have quit going to the pool
Or bottled out of lessons in surfing
In future, maybe kids will surf to school
But more water, more rain’s usually the rule
So life for them could be wet and windy
Enough of this, it’s far too depressing!
Environmental thinking’s rather cruel
Instead I fancy jetting to the sea
Before it ends, let’s keep on enjoying!
Sun 7 June 2009

992 - On the edge

The sun broke through as me and Josie sat
Outside The Wizard at Alderley Edge
Each with an orange squash and crisp packet
We laughed as usual as our snacks were munched
And after we had had our little lunch
Walked up Wizard’s Walk, yet still were not done
Slid down to Hare Hill, woody muddy sludge
Past streams and slopes and dreams and hopes we’d gone
And climbed and climbed as the signs urged us on
Inevitably, her legs tired, so that
Was that. Past cows and buttercups all bunched
Together in fields of rabbit warrens
This wonderland, quite near where was begat
Lewis Carroll, certainly has the edge
Sat 23 May 2009

974 - Plastered in Paris 2

Un autre jour à Paris: Sainte-Chappelle
A fuckin’ long queue, mais it was worthwhile
Those stained-glass fenêtres: sensationelles!
Un peut de shopping, home for a piss, then we’ll
Go for a falafel, served with a smile
Fed les pigeons; on est allé au Musée
Carnavalet, where luckily twas real
Easy a prendre des photos, regarder
Le lit de Proust. Turned into a good day
Despite the clouds. I was OK, but Pearl
Was fatiguée. Walked over to the Ile
De la Cité, ou Pearl est occupée
Dans son restaurant. I thought, fuckin’ ell
What to do next? Qu’est-ce que c’est difficile
Tue 5 May 2009

955 - Feline good

I’m getting ready to go out again
With J, after our Easter together
What we’ve got planned is a night in Chorlton
To watch musicians play on the guitar
I don’t expect I’ll take part; not been there
Before, so best maybe if I just watch,
Ask J about my new phone, and prepare
For an early departure…work is such
A busy place this month, with a whole batch
Of meetings coming up, rides on the train
But anyway, I’ll pick up my guitar
Before I go out with my special catch
And practice ‘You Are the Cat’ once again
Well, you see, J is such a cat lover
Thur 16 Apr 2009

952 - Spring morning

Easter is over, and now life goes on
The leaves are on the trees, they are a sign
Of marching time, of time starting to run
Of things reaching their peak as nature climbs
And reaches with green fingers for sunshine
As glimpsed through bedroom windows at morning
From gently rustling sheets at breakfast time
The garden birds have been serenading
For hours, their eyes and thoughts now returning
To what may be found down there on the lawn
Breakfast is over, washing’s on the line
Gently swaying, thoughtlessly responding
To nature’s ways with regular rhythm
As the wind plays that old tune one more time
Mon 13 Apr 2009

948 - Happy days

Been hard at work and play these last few days
Up early today to see my Josie
We went to Uppermill and found some ways
To amuse: stepping stones, a small café
But no cruise on the barge today. Then we
Drove back through the hills, past stone cottages
The Pennines and Manchester, from Mossley,
Both look good, a new sight for Josie’s eyes
We then watched a new family film: it was
A tearjerker about a dog who dies
Worn out from years of being so naughty
We ate these mice sweets full of E numbers
Josie’s front tooth’s out - tooth fairy be praised
A sleep now, then my love I’m off to see
Thur 9 Apr 2009

899 - The hills are alive

Last night I actually sang in public
And it was OK, but my voice was still
Too quiet, like bagpipes played when you're learning
But it's a new milestone, a fear I've killed
It's true, it takes courage for us to spill
Our feelings and our weaknesses like that
But it's more satisfying than to chill
In the background, in shadows, scaredy cat
Eyeing a mouse, never trying to catch
Catching mice is healthy, therapeutic
It fills your time better, provides the thrill
Of danger, achievement, new friends and that
Admittedly, to get there isn't quick
But I've a new home up there in the hills
Thur 19 Feb 2009

852 - Becoming less like God

As days zoom by at ever faster speed
Time contracts (unlike Einstein claimed it would).
With half of it gone, there’s twice as much need
To get something done before I’m fly food
Just as they suck the juice out, so my mood
Dictates imitation; I’ll drain it dry
Before evaporation can denude
This living body opportunity.
Sometimes I almost envy bird or fly
Live faster, die younger (the rocker’s creed)
Still conscious of the reaper’s shadowed hood
Behind each bush, but unlikely to cry
At some far distant end when others feed,
As they do, on the freshest flesh and blood
Sat 3 Jan 2009

839 - Blue and green patches

The rain held off while patches of blue fought
For space with those big bullies dressed in grey
We waited, baiting breath like we were taught
But not holding it for a sunny day
Emerging from our holes this dark Sunday
Like frightened rabbits on Watership Down
Scared of the sky god’s blessings in case they
Mess up our hair or splash our shoes with brown
I made a dash for a green patch, high ground
And cautiously explored with map I’d brought
In Heaton Park, North Manchester at play
Amazingly tall tube kids can slide down
Some ponies looked lonely but not distraught
In muddy puddles, huddled by the way
Sun 21 Dec 2008

808 - Chickening out

To bed last night at a reasonable hour
But still a good few pints and a curry
Nestling in my bloated stomach. Devour
At this rate and, my friend, obesity
Will catch you, or, at least, the pregnancy
Look when you stand sideways by a mirror
And pull your shirt up, as I did in the
Hotel bathroom last night (this was BEFORE
The huge curry at Kushi’s…) We waged war
On Scottish chickens this week with such power
That now it’s over, they will cluck ‘Hooray!’
And try to procreate, even the score
Oh esteemed poultry of auld Edinburgh
We humbly wave the white flag. We’re sorry!
Thur 20 Nov 2008

784 - Peter the Puppet's Poem

I wish I was a bird and I could fly
Well maybe not, because I don’t like worms
Besides, that ginger cat that lurks nearby
Would seem a lion; those are my concerns

I wish I was a fish, swimming oceans
Well maybe not, because my memories
Would be so few, I’d never ever learn
Your name. You’re looking fin tonight...Louise?

I wish I was an alien, who sees
His girl each weekend in her galaxy
Or sometimes in his; you could just take turns
Well maybe not, because of space fuel fees

The bird, the fish, the alien and I
Say good night, sweet dreams, till daytime returns

Mon 27 Oct 2008

748 - Bye bye blackbirds

The time of year is here when leaves turn brown
And well-fed birds point young beaks at the sky
The time of growth is over; they have found
Their feet; now they must flap their wings and fly
Over the sea and land to some new dry
Warm shelter which they’ll make their own and fill
With their own stolen sticks; where they’ll apply
Inherited instincts, do what they will
Tiptoeing on their own soil, dart and drill
For buried treasure moving underground
Sharp-eyed and wary by day, and, perched high
On distant branch, work done, ready to trill
Their thrilling songs, our simple tunes outgrown
Replaced by rare rapturous melody
Sun 21 Sep 2008

721 - The three-part coo of the dove

The dove sits in the tree, its three-part coo
Standing for peace in our symbolic lore
Drowned out by police sirens rushing to who
Knows where or why, peace out-shouted by war
The student sits with mates on crowded floor
Smoking the pipe to songs of love and peace
When he has bills to pay, his fate is sure
He’ll start siding more often with the police
The new politician, he seems so nice
He bills and coos, he sure knows how to woo
To wit, to win your sympathy and your
Vote. It’s done, he’s in the door; in a trice
The dove is hawk, the student Tory blue
The leader is feeding on guts and gore
Mon 25 Aug 2008

716 - Magic bus

A double-decker bus ride into town
To Manchester Museum - have you been?
The Iron Age Lindow Man lay on the ground
One leg chopped off, the other one not seen
Sacrificed for society’s well-being
Then up one floor, Egyptian artefacts
A human skeleton, a climbing green
Chameleon, iguanas, tomato frogs
Then down again to the bones of T-Rex
And (dead) insects aplenty can be found
Took the bus back to Didsbury for beans
Sausages, chips, chicken curry, and next
To the park for a spin round and around
And then my daughter and me had ice cream
Wed 20 Aug 2008

714 - Darwin, Dawkins and Dr Williams

Last week I read Darwin on holiday
While waiting for the others to awake
It was rather dry (the book, not the day)
But it was an effort I had to make
And now Richard Dawkins is trying to break
The hold of religion on school science
Campaigning hard for Darwin’s shocking take
That we are related to worms and hens
Which some schools daren’t stand by, in case offence
Is taken by ostriches, who when they
Hear hard, challenging truth, declare it fake
And say that science isn’t evidence
Dawkins is talkin’ to Canterbury
And Rowan’s goin’ to squirm like a snake
Mon 18 Aug 2008

710 - Swimming with jellyfish

Must write this quick, last day of holiday
It’s ending a day early (argument)
Been a really pleasant warm sunny day
Down Kimmeridge Bay where me and daughter went
Looking for fish with a small net, backs bent
As we gingerly trod the rocks and weed
Portuguese men o’ war had just been sent
Into this bay and nearby ones, I read
In yesterday’s paper, so we agreed
Not to go swimming in the shimmering bay
Those toxic tentacles of bright blue meant
A boy went to hospital, sad indeed
When trying to enjoy his holiday
Like me, poisoned by stinging incident
Thur 14 Aug 2008

698 - Late night alone in tasteless room

The black and white cat, having done its shit
Pads proudly, quietly, contentedly
Across the wooden floor and red carpet
To spend the night in the conservatory
The clock on the green wall tick-tocks loudly
The pink plant patterns on the sofa twist
The dark red diamond cushions clash direly
Crumbs on the carpet that the cat has missed
Colours and outer darkness as the mist
Of night descends to relentless clock beat
The cat creeps back in, maybe wants a pee
No - he’s choosing a different place to rest
A restless night for all. The fuse is lit
I don’t think things will work out happily
Sat 2 Aug 2008

692 - Schopenhauering

Read Schopenhauer while I was waiting
Intelligence just leads to suffering
Because we dwell on setbacks, all hoping
For better times, but life’s disappointing
Even when goals are reached, the joy’s fleeting
And as time marches on, health’s declining
Instead of living now, we’re just counting
The days and years down to the grim ending
While plants and animals are existing
Unconscious of their end or beginning
So that’s why the dolphin’s always grinning
If life was all pleasure, and pain missing
We’d need to hurt, to kill, to do something
To spice up dull existence, so boring
Sun 27 July 2008