1030 - 24 hours in Salford and Bolton

Last night Andy came round with Soundforge 5
We picked up Rachel en route to Bolton
The writers’ group met, consisting of five
Sat out the back of the Hen & Chickens
One exercise: to draw inspiration
From one of Gary’s books, brought in a bag
My book was ‘Death’s Eye’ (the explanation
For yesterday’s sonnet). I mustn’t brag
But I worked hard today. It was a drag
How the rain fell. Thought I wouldn’t survive
The walk home; thought I’d end up all sodden
My office wear reduced to soaking rags
But I borrowed an umbrella at five-
Past five, and walked home under its protection
Tue 30 June 2009

1000 - Land of a thousand sonnets

This is the land of a thousand sonnets
Okay, some are crap, but nobody knows…
It’s all relative; who’s to say that it’s
Good or bad? Subjective terms fell and rose
So only I decide what comes and goes
Sometimes I rhyme what’s in the news; others
What’s in my life, or out of it; the throes
Of death began suckling mother’s
Bottled milk teats, so these treats of short verse
Are designed to encapsulate the shits
That come my way, and the infrequent rose,
Sweet-smelling, between the cradle and hearse
I’m sounding like a pupil of Beckett’s
Without the claps, but with all the same woes
Sun 31 May 2009

998 - Friday afternoon, late spring

I'm lazing on a sunny afternoon
It's a Friday, and I'm in the office
I'll be making my way home very soon
When there will be no more taking the piss
No, then the real work begins. Mustn't miss
The chance to write some poems, maybe plan
A trip to Ireland, maybe even kiss
Guitar or keyboard with my loving hands
There's a call from the life insurance man
Changing to him could pay me to the tune
Of £100 cashback - very nice!
If there are freebies about, I'm a fan!
Meanwhile, and suddenly, it's almost June
Only half a month now till the solstice
Fri 29 May 2009

997 - What I've got

I've got a sore throat, it's hurting me so
I thought I'd recovered a week ago
But now it's uncomfortable to swallow
It's a pain in the neck. Why won't it go?

I've got writer's block, poems will not come
I need to attend workshops, so hold some
Give me ideas, for my brain is numb
Help me write something that will raise a thumb

I've got lots of work to do, but that's good
Without work, you can get stuck in the mud
Retirement is a dirty word, you could
Find yourself bored to death, boxed up in wood

I've got to finish now and get on home
That's passed time happily, writing this poem

Thur 27 May 2009

969 - Hotel bed

I’m writing this here on my hotel bed
So that I can go out and drink my fill
And, when I get back, can empty my head
And bladder, hop in bed, exit the real
Scenic train ride to York, hill after hill
Until, after Leeds, Yorkshire land turns flat
A pleasant spring walk, Minster’s clanging bell
Celebrating or warning, but of what?
Our meeting, as expected, filled with chat
Big mouths that mustn’t be interrupted
Big and small thoughts, it all made John feel ill
But still, that long agenda has been brought
Close to the end, and that’s what we wanted
Tomorrow’s session all gently downhill
Thur 30 Apr 2009

919 - Cutting it fine

I sent off my BBC comedy
Script with five minutes to spare, after an
Absorbing day at work that delayed me
In getting to the Post Office. What fun:
From the first PO I then had to run
To another one cos the first one shut
At 5.30 while the more distant one
Stayed open 15 minutes more. Well, what
A relief! Now, from that stress, I have got
Another source of stress, admittedly
Self-inflicted: Friday’s gig in Bolton
I must now practice some more till I’m hot
At playing a Smiths song, and one by me,
And also a song by Joy Division
Wed 11 Mar 2009

916 - It's no joke, this comedy

I worked on my comedy for twelve hours
For today was the last day to write it
Been working hard, using all of my powers
But rushing like this only leads to shit
Still, opportunities are rare, admit
It would be nice if the Beeb liked my script
My wrists are aching, my back too, a bit
My eyes are probably red, my brain has flipped
Running on empty now, the last drop’s dripped
After this sonnet, none of my prowess
Will be left; into dreams I need to flit
To recover the brainpower that has dipped
Not packed yet for tomorrow’s trip that steers
Me Newcastle way. I might wear a suit!
Sun 8 Mar 2009

914 - A professional will get a professional to approach

A busy time over these next few days
On Tuesday it's a comedy deadline
Must post my script off to the Beeb, delays
Will not be accepted. And not much time
Left to put songs together so that I'm
Able to take part in the 'Not Part Of'
Arts festival in July. It's a shame
To miss these things, but it's also above
The realms of possibility to prove
That you really have anything to say
Or can perform well when you fluff your lines
As I often do, so I'll need enough
Practice to get it right, to reach that blaze
Of happiness that hasn't yet been mine
Fri 6 Mar 2009

898 - Putting it off again

Off work today, but short on energy
Because of online chatting late last night
Breakfasted while watching war DVD
And Jeremy Kyle (unmissable sight)
Whenever I’m off, I enjoy the plight
Of chavs giving abuse, getting abuse
Although to some, to say so isn’t right
Maybe they’d like to live next to such crews
And hear their late night arguments and screws
Finished episode three of comedy
Since then, not done much, cause I couldn’t fight
Tiredness and laziness… Oui, je m’accuse!
But now, after a nap, it’s time for me
To practice the two songs I’ll sing tonight
Wed 18 Feb 2009

895 - What's going on

Today I’m writing, maybe recording
Then watching football live on the TV
The FA Cup Fifth Round match featuring
Manchester United, Derby County
At Derby’s Pride Park. A Rams victory
Seems unlikely, but come on Cloughie’s boys
Against the Reds we recently put three
Past them in the League Cup, though lots of noise
Has been made about their clean sheets. A cruise
Up to Bolton with Andy this evening
To Write Out Loud’s new venue there; should be
A good night, filled with laughter and applause
Not seen Josephine this weekend; taking
Her to meet Pearl on Tuesday: out for tea
Sun 15 Feb 2009

881 - Music to my ears

Been quite a good day at home by myself
Though, as ever, something’s gone wrong again
Slowly, surely, I’m getting back to health
Just ate sausages and mash with no pain
First, on the TV, highlights of the game
Yesterday, when Derby beat Coventry
Then, getting fed up of hearing the same
Music walking to work, changed MP3
Selection, ate soup, then wrote comedy,
Nine pages in all, but with all this wealth
Of time still left, my speakers packed in then
So now I can’t record music properly
Because I can’t play it back. But by stealth
I’m getting there; through this pain there’ll be gain
Sun 1 Feb 2009

878 - Poetry can be fun

It’s late, and I’ve had one or ten whiskies
Been to a poetry night, read some stuff
By God, it was a bit cold, felt I’d freeze
But now I’m back home, feel a bit more tough
Read two poems I wrote on the chuff chuff
That took me home from Glasgow yesterday
Not too bad, since both were quite off the cuff
One about Burns Night, one at close of day
As train sped through hills heading England way
The whiskies made me laugh, it was a wheeze
As guys read poems, stifled the odd laugh
I’ve not had much to laugh about, so hey
Why not? It’s cheaper than stand-up, and these
Nights can be fun with wordsmiths spouting guff
Thur 29 Jan 2009

814 - Nuts and Bolton

Day off today to do lots today, hey
But all I did was write all about food
Wanted to go for a run today, hey
But I just wrote - not in a running mood
But a haircut was something I’d include
There must be time for that - no way José
I watched Jeremy Kyle, wrote about food
And that was it, off to the BBC
To see what they would say. It’s not easy
Getting scripts accepted by their guys, hey
I got all the tips down, then crossed the road
Got in my car, drove to Bolton city
For a friends’ poetry night tonight, hey
And all I did was read all about food
Wed 26 Nov 2008

776 - Shutting up shop

A busy weekend dribbles to a close
No energy, don’t feel like doing much
Yesterday, wrote three poems, none verbose
On this occasion; they were more a sketch
Of general annoyance. When you catch
That feeling rising, it can make writing
A lot easier. Better? There’s the catch:
It’s not just emotion needs capturing
So they are just drafts for now. Finishing
My sitcom (first draft) ended, for now, those
Painful writing sessions with the blank page
At least now I can start the polishing
But not right now. Right now, well, I propose
Precisely nothing. Turn on TV. Watch.
Sun 19 Oct 2008

775 - Song of the earth and the sea

Listening to Mahler’s ‘Lieder’ while I write
Well, not much time today to hang around
Besides, it’s always fun to combine sight
And even insight, with a clashing sound
That struggles against them, like when waves pound
Against the steadfast rocks, splashing, seeming
To be smashed to fragments of foam; but ground
Is only today what water’s giving
Tomorrow rock will crumble at the sting
Of vicious tongue-lashing, of dark sea’s spite
Venting its endless spleen in bay and sound
No harbour will be safe, so keep sailing
On wavy hills so hungry as they bite
All rotten hulls to bits. All sea-bed bound
Sat 18 Oct 2008

763 - Cider with Tommy

Tess of the D’Urbervilles is awful sad
Like most of Thomas Hardy’s morbid stuff
Wasn’t that Alec D’Urberville a cad?
Sorry, but in this context it’s quite tough
To leave out the word ‘cad,’ yet does it prove
Hardy’s themes of loss that this word has died
Like the old rural ways he used to love
Those peasant nights beside the fireside?
That’s if they were lucky to live beside
Some forest where the tree-trunks could be had
For firewood, although this then would remove
The ancient wood over time. Hardy cried
For the world as it was when, as a lad
He’d roam chalk lanes and help thatch the odd roof
Mon 6 Oct 2008

756 - Quick resume

My sitcom entry’s posted off, special
Delivery, should arrive tomorrow
(The deadline, of course). Now I know they’ll
At least read my ideas and get to know
My sense of humour. And, as well, also,
I’ve entered the Manchester Blog Awards
Well who could have a better one? There’s no
Doubt that this is the best, and the rewards
Should soon flow into my coffers. I soared
To the heights of Parnassus, near Rochdale
Last night at a reading. I thought I’d go
And premiere my latest feast of words
But just as I approached climax, final
Resolution, my time ran out! Hum ho.
Mon 29 Sep 2008

749 - Are you havin' a laugh?

I’m running out of time, started too late
Isn’t that just so typical of me?
And yet, apparently, this is a trait
Of successful writers of comedy
Which - this month - is what I would like to be…
With today’s Guardian there was a leaflet
On ‘How to write comedy.’ Quite clearly
A hard thing to teach. I tend to forget
All jokes and stories, and am slow to get
My own lines off by heart. Thought I’d be great
At stand-up!?! - it was big in the 90s -
But gave up. Looking back there’s no regret
I can’t perform but can write. On with skates!
Script must reach them by September 30
Mon 22 Sep 2008

722 - Battle of the red stripes

Enjoyed the weekend, writing lots of stuff
And also reading out my poetry
Although, if I’m honest, it would be tough
To call it poetry. It’s comedy
More often than not, and so it might be
That that is my direction. Time will tell.
Right now, my direction is southerly
Heading to the Georgian facades of Chel-
tenham, not for the horses but the thrill
Of Carling Cup action, more than enough
Goals likely, since visitors Stoke City
Beat Villa, and Cheltenham lost 4-0
To Oldham at the weekend. Stoke should stuff
The smalltown boys. And it won’t be pretty
Tue 26 Aug 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