1035 - Tennis sonnet

A quick sonnet, because it’s two-thirty
In the morning, and I’ve since gone to bed
But as I lay there, I thought suddenly,
Hey! I’ve not done a sonnet! Oh my God!
And so, here it is, written at great speed…
Played tennis in the early afternoon
Slowly improving, though I still can’t beat
Louis, who remains determined to ruin
My feeble attempts to compete, but soon
I’ll at least win a set. Then, on TV
I watched Federer beat Roddick, who led
But threw away the second set. Immune
To nerves, the Swiss player made history:
Fifteen Grand Slams! And now, it’s back to bed
Sun 5 July 2009

1024 - Busy day off

A sunny summer’s day… They do exist!
And I was off work watching Jeremy Kyle
Then Trisha, then I had a shopping list
Then finished reading ‘The Color Purple’
Lent by ex-girlfriend not seen for a while
Had lunch and also watched Monty Python
Still not rehearsed for tonight (that’s my style:
Leave it till last moment…) Watched Wimbledon
But conscious now of the time moving on
I realised the chance was almost missed
To practice for tonight. Decided I’ll
Do a medley of three songs (two are on
My CD) and a poem, one that dissed
Comedians, and contained appropriate bile
Wed 24 June 2009

925 - Paddy's Day Paddy

At work dere was a Paddy’s Day ‘paddy’
Somebody trew a hissy fit, he did
Twas a man of good Oirish stock, Roiley
Boi name, and his behaviour wasn’t good
Just loike a payt bog, he is an old sod…
But never moind, let’s focus on Oireland
De land of leprechauns and basic food
Dere’s been some bad stuff in Nordern Oireland
But de way all condemned dat stuff was grand
De Catlic and de Prods unoited, de
Suspects were raywnded up, and dat was it…
De rugby team treatens a Grand Slam, and
De Celtic Toiger feels a bit quaysy
And dat’s yer Paddy’s Day news. Not so bad…
Tue 17 Mar 2009

894 - Happy alone

Tired last night, went to bed and fell asleep
Slept like a log, thank God, neighbours quiet
Valentine’s Day dawned, appointments to keep
With myself and work, no shortage of it
Started with the news, there’s no end to it
Watched a chart countdown, then football preview
Wrote fifteen pages of ‘Love At First Fright’
Then watched the football scores, as boys have to
Followed by rugby (Wales - England), then new
Songs written and recorded; been a steep
Learning curve, but getting there, bit by bit
Not bad when last month didn’t have a clue
I drank and smoked, and now to count some sheep
With Plato for my bedside reading shit!
Sat 14 Feb 2009

787 - News night

I’m sitting watching the news and I’ve seen
The BBC row about Ross and Brand
African troubles in Congo again
The economy’s hard to understand
The presidential race that will soon end
Obama’s still leading, but can he stay
Or, like Lewis Hamilton on a bend
Will he lose the top spot on the last day?
A Scottish by-election on the way
The Scottish Labour Party a has-been?
The news is ending, so what viewing’s planned?
It’s Question Time, this time from USA
It’s Ranvir Singh, hurray, the local queen
Of North West News, waving her little hand
Thur 30 Oct 2008

719 - The flickering flame

A day of sport, of sorts, sat watching that
Best festival of testing from Beijing
Each vest the fastest, highest, strongest, sat
Watching that, though I ought to be writing.
The thought of writing’s biting and tugging
At me; we’re wrestling boxers, arms entwined
The red and blue vests, hot and cold, winning
And losing; to win gold, I’ve got to find
Some extra strength to last the length, unwind
The knot of memories till they lie flat
Like eight lanes under floodlights, me running
Between, relating, relaying; refined
Technique showing on replay, re-read, sat
Reading the dream book that I’m not writing
Sat 23 Aug 2008

713 - Can't fly the nest

The Olympics has invaded my mind
Like a strong drink or weed inhalation
I want and need to but can’t turn aside
I’ve seen too much golden information
It’s much more open now to all nations
Now drug cheats from the eastern bloc have gone
Remember the Russians and East Germans
No longer on the medal podium
Now talent allied to dedication
Can be enough. If your country’s behind
You with funding, then that celebration
Can be yours, can be ours as we look on
As I do now, as the athletes unwind
Around the bend of Bird’s Nest Stadium
Sun 17 Aug 2008

711 - Wheels on fire

Well done the British cyclists in Beijing
Their wheels on fire, rolling around the ’drome
It made for great live TV, sat watching
The Olympics unfold, off work, at home
Well done to Staff, Kenny and Hoy; that’s some
Achievement, beating the French team to gold
We’ve already done better in our sum
Total of golds than in some Games of old
Talking of which, I remember the Cold
War boycott of Moscow, with Wells winning
The hundred metres, Seb and Steve and Cram
Mary Peters in Munich, when tears rolled
Lasse Viren, and Cuban ‘White Lightning’
Ben Johnson sold his Seoul, the cheating bum!
Fri 15 Aug 2008

703 - Bad weather warning

George Bush, you are a comedy genius
Thanks for that human rights speech in Thailand
But now you’re in China, there’ll be more fuss
About the pollution that’s out of hand
Handkerchief over mouth when in the stand
Watching the games, while in the marathon
Poor Paula Radcliffe’s run won’t go as planned
Because before that long long race is run
She’ll be choking, worse even than Athens
I’ll miss much of the games, but it’s no loss
Because I’ll be on holiday, the sand
And country scenery scene of my fun
And games, down in Dorset. All set; now just
Need to wave my old magic weather wand
Thur 7 Aug 2008

701 - Beijing calling

Beijing Olympics, the world is watching
And nothing could be finer than being
In China in the morning smog, choking
Not too much joking going on, hoping
We’ll get the odd gold or two in Beijing
The smoking gun, the foggy smoggy ring
Of starting pistol, net monitoring
And not just in the hammer and sickling
But free speech and human rights restricting
That said, maybe it’s a bit nitpicking
To pick on Peking, peeking and seeking
To preach, when democracy’s weakening
In the west, which stayed best by bullying
The rest; now the great test is approaching
Tue 5 Aug 2008

688 - Two wheels good

Not as easy as falling off a bike
Was teaching my girl to ride one today
Her knees and elbows padded, took a hike
To the park where the surface is okay
Firm dirt path shaded by a canopy
Of mature trees from the sun’s wilting heat
She tilted, wobbled, paused for several plays
On nearby swings and seesaw, to the beat
Of workmen on a distant roof. ‘Compete
With those two sisters, show off swing technique!’
She thought, all Machiavellianly,
Then we left them, went riding in the street
Or she did, with me guiding, wide awake
To traffic, parked cars, and health and safety
Wed 23 July 2008

671 - Not so sunny Sunday

It took me an hour to wake up today
I listened to the radio, drifting
The London murders, tennis, I think they
Were the main topics they were discussing
The crack in the curtain was revealing
A gloomy sky, a grey day for the show
In Wilmslow; will we go, or will swimming
Take its place (indoors, of course)? I’ll soon know.
My trunks and towel await, as does Jo
Whose first year at school’s almost done - hurray!
Not only coz she’s gradually growing
But also coz her teacher’s been a cow
Later on we’ll see Anita and Ray
For Sunday chat, snacks and coffee-drinking
Sun 6 July 2008

660 - A simpleton's guide to Wimbledon

Been thinking of betting on Wimbledon
Made a few quid when I did this last year
Less shocks than in soccer’s European
Championship; dead sure with Federer
Nadal and co, not at all risky there
The Serbian ladies serve and hit volleys
Their title prospects are beyond compare
A little picture confirmed this to me
No Henman to cheer on, only Murray
And I’m sorry but he’s so very glum
Some will have won sets before sunset’s here
But the symbol of Wimbledon for me?
Gals and fellas hold umbrellas, while on
The Centre Court covers are brought. Nightmare
Wed 25 June 2008

608 - Water and other drags

My eyes hurt. I hate swimming. Where’s the fun?
Soaking your face in chlorine is a drag.
You smell funny, even when shower’s done,
Then carry home your wet things in a bag.
Still, in school swimming lessons I could brag
And demonstrate a good front crawl technique
(Though rather slow), but where I’d really flag
Was front crawl foot action. I felt so weak
After two lengths at swimming club midweek
Holding a float, by all overtaken,
Even small girls. ‘This surely ain’t my bag.’
I quit mid-’75 at the peak
Of mediocrity. Preferred to run
Or cycle after that. Or smoke a fag.
Sun 4 May 2008

582 - No sporting chance

The English teams are doing well this year
In Europe: there’s Liverpool and Chelsea,
Arsenal too, Man U of course, but where
Are the English players, and who are the
Managers? (Not forgetting overseas
Owners.) I’m afraid that, like Wimbledon,
It’s clear that our sportsmen lack quality,
And so, like plumbers, we import a ton
Of foreign talent with the discipline
And skill to make up for our lack of flair.
Oh well, at least as sports fans it seems we
Are still passionate; appreciation
Is shown for excellence. We are quite fair-
Minded. But then it seems we have to be.
Tue 8 Apr 2008

577 - A slightly bigger splash

We’re in the swimming pool. Kids shout and play.
Balls land nearby and splash us in the face.
Old ladies, old men slowly stroke their way,
Kicking us if we stand in the wrong place.
Young women, shy or proud at pool’s edge, pace
Like panthers to and from the changing room,
While mother hens with toddlers - there’s a brace
Chatting in the shallows - do not assume
Attractiveness; flowers past their early bloom.
The safety staff: some talk and laugh, but they
Also lean singly against walls, a base
From which to wish the big clock’s hands would zoom.
While formerly Josephine’s head would stay
Dry, now it gets wet. (Lessons not a waste!)
Thur 3 Apr 2008

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

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

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

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