Categories
poems

the rain that soaks

Ma gurd it is wet out there. The 

rain pelts down on the conservatory 

roof and I have to venture out

to get jabbed. It is good that I 

unblocked the drainpipe during 

the week just gone, the soaking

I received a mere splash compared 

With what would be were I to try it now.

Categories
poems

suburban living

suburban living. sitting in traffic, timing your tedious journey to the valuable minute, squeezing every last second out of the trip. a five minute result. five precious minutes out of the ordinary. tired in no time, life ticks away.

Categories
Lockdown 2 poems

words

A random spread, 

of words plucked, 

from thin air, 

high altitude argument,  

badinage bad boys

Categories
Lockdown 2 poems

end of day

Nightfall. A day quickly over. Curtains closed on a cold and inhospitable world.

Categories
poems poetry

The tea is mine

The tea is mine. There is no room for unfounded spurious claims of ownership. Time darkens, purposeful brew. The fire flickers, roars, shouting at the hand that feeds. My attention is grabbed, enlightened. Background noises comfort. There is peace.

Categories
57 Varieties poems poetry

leaves me alone

Leaves leave my lawn alone
Grass killer compost fodder
Unwanted dead wind drift
Shrivelleduglybrown

Categories
57 Varieties poems poetry

In the wind beaten garden

In the wind beaten garden, birds hide, branches fall and words scatter. Collars pulled tight on bent head daffodils.

Then the rain; incessant bird bath fill, deafening inside the conservatory.

Later skies lighten, snow is promised. Wind drops and peace descends.

Categories
57 Varieties poems poetry

Homeward bound I am

Homeward bound I am, fleeing city madness and the battle against the office worker tide

Homeward bound I am, to recover from an opulent week of self indulgent excess

Homeward bound I am, to a smile and a kiss and a nice cup of tea

Homeward bound I am,

Homeward bound I am.

Categories
poems

Brex*hit

The world in which we live is blowing up
Brexit looms
May has failed spectacularly
And my late train, with broken toilet
Continues to evacuate itself
Returning every few minutes
Behind it’s locked facade
To a cycle of self expurgation
Oblivious to all around it
Who must seek elsewhere to find relief
And yet somehow it seems
To provide a commentary
Appropriate to this moment in history

By Bob Sleigh

Categories
poems poetry

twilight time

Not much light left in the day.
Systems entering night mode.
Hibernation acceptable strategy.
Conservation of energy.

Categories
poems

I sit here jivin

I sit here jivin’ in chair
my fave sounds
the world is in front of me,
go where I please
cap sits comfortably
autumn falls outside

I am alone the girls have gone out
walked to town for a celebrity
followed by gin and tonic
float the boat and down your throat

occasionally I line up the music
don’t leave that to chance

volume increases

political classes commit suicide
on everyone’s behalf
taking us with them
guitar solo kicks in with drum support

next morning it rains
breakfast over, back in chair
leaves litter no lawn left
quiet house

Categories
poems

Autumn

Autumn has well and truly arrived. The lawn is green with a mottled brown counterpane of fallen leaves.

Rain falls gently as I gather the last of the greenhouse tomatoes and carry them to the house in the fold of my shirt. Tonight they will be put to good use.

Rose lingers beech hedge shimmers water droplets.

Noises off kitchen industry Anne pops her head through door welcome smile cup of tea.

Inner stillness.

Categories
poems

I mountain

I mountain constant noise,
Stream dances, rivulet in a hurry
Random butterfly fluttersby,
Doesn’t wait for me
Sheep scampers over
Breeze bent grasses
Lichen rock scattered stones
Breathtaking measures pace
Relax and stare
Clouds sleep

Categories
poems

Awake in bed

I lie awake in the darkness, listening.
The constant rhythmic flow of my breathing.
Still alive.
No traffic noise.
Anne stirs and gets up.
She doesn’t realise I am awake.
Feels odd without her there.
No touching of bodies, no sensing her presence.
Hours later she returns, shuffles, falls sleep.
The pre-dawn chorus lures me back to dreamland.

Categories
poems poetry

Flight to the Isle of Man

UK is covered in cloud.

2 worlds

Above the cloud

Below the cloud

We are descending

Gradually approaching the cloud

What lies below?

 

Frozen Arctic wasteland

Ordinary people leading ordinary lives

Is such a thing possible?

 

Bit of a disappointment I can’t see the Isle of Man. Maybe we aren’t there yet?

Strange to think that below the clouds might be the Irish sea

Boats

Waves

Fish

 

The cabin attendant goes about her business. She is prepared for landing

Now I can see the sea. It looks calm

The plane banks and Laxey comes into view

Followed by Doolish