Whisky glass, once full now almost empty, sits there in front of me on the kitchen table. There is no music. Only my thoughts. Thoughts of nothing in particular. No memories. Only a sense of being. Warmth. …
Today I bought some crumpet, rhymes with trumpet
I like a bit of crumpet, me
Almost too hot to hold and dripping with butter
To be eaten quickly so you can move on to the next one.
The rain dances overhead as daylight moves out of sight to the West. Noise thunders. Dead leaves litter the garden. Wind rocks the branches of trees. I am inside, warm and glad.
story of success,
paper scrunching, twig snapping match striking
coal engulfed settles into long decline
room warms up and the fire dies
A tribute to Fergie
Nowadays its a very sad time,
No more will we see Fergie, on the touch line,
The great man from Govan, is no longer the boss,
For the world of football, what a great loss
At number fifty four
There is a house in Severn road
And it’s number fifty four
Where neighbours thought there lived ten kids
And were shocked to discover four more
There was Kath and john, me dad and mom
London didn’t cope.
We just didn’t cope, even
though we had a warning
We’ve known for two weeks
But it went tits up this morning
The snow hit the ground
Before we awoke
It was only two hours
Before the …
Remember Remembrance Day
Wear a poppy on the 11th of November
And wear it with the greatest of pride
In glorious red it will help you remember
The unfortunate soldiers who died
Remember the bravery of these women and men…
the poetry of the hotel room
wanted. poet to write about hotel rooms. only geniuses need apply. this one is mostly right angled.
the right angled hotel room
square with rectangular bits. bolt ons. that’s the nuts and bolts …
Oh dark mother, once more I suckle at your caffeinated teat.
From the bean, via steam, your emanations are all at once bitter and sweet.
With milk or alone both comforts and uplifts.
Please accept my humble thanks for your …
soup stirs on stove top
sounds of tidying up in kitchen
plastic pot moves slightly on drainer
out of window branches blow
hot tea warms hand
jug filled sits on table
Low winter sun marks approach to solstice. House is warm. Kitchen radio talks sport, fire crackles. Clock makes its silent way.
On the 5th of May I didn’t wake up,
My eyes stayed shut and my kidneys packed up;
My lungs didn’t breathe and my bowels didn’t grind,
My ears heard nothing, and nor did my mind!
The broken fence, …
You, most roguish of sycamores
shall not escape the fate of your siblings
mown dead with the first spring growth
of the recovering lawn.
The sanctuary of the hedge
no longer available
when you looked above the parapet,
were spotted …