Wind Taking Cherry Blossom

A poem from 2019

Wind,

In company embarrassing

Excruciating, holding it in

Taking,

Care to let it pass quietly

Slowly, in the hope

There will be no telltale smell

Cherry,

Would be a more pleasant aroma

Than sulphurous, Hell-borne gases

But all would still know what we’d done

Blossom,

You fall to the floor in genuine relief

I bet you didn’t see this coming

Image by Engin_Akyurt on pixabay

Peter Piper

A poem from 2019

If you really want to know

“Where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?”

Why get your knickers in a twist?

Why not just ask him?

But Peter Piper’s in a daze

In an alcoholic haze

Tied his tongue into a knot

“Pickled? Peppers?” He forgot

So keep on searching

Keep on wondering

Keep on stumbling

Keep on bumbling

It will remain a mystery

#SadFace

The Wall - a 2019 poem, with performance

A giant wall in front of me

Too tall to climb over

So long it would take a lifetime to circumvent it

I cannot dig my way under its foundations

I have only my bare hands

And so

I channel my inner David Copperfield

I take deep breaths

I zone out

I hit that sweet spot of concentration

I believe psychic energy will flow through me

I will walk through that wall

And materialise on the other side!

One…

Two…

Threeeeeee!!!!!

...Ouch...

Mr. Plow

A poem from 2019

He curses global warming

Except when it brings the “worst winter ever”

He prays for snow

Will somebody think of the children?

He hates the gritters

He seethes at the salters

What’s a guy got to do to make a living in this place?

When the white stuff falls

He dances a little dance

Kerching, he sings

Blizzards make him boogie

Drifts cause delight

It’s cold, hard work

But could it ever be lucrative enough?

He wants to spend nine months of the year

With his feet up

Sipping beer

And watching sports on tv

Introverts

A poem from 2019

Introverts of the world - UNITE!

In our own small corners

Certainly not together in the same room

That would be, well - AWKWARD

The Old Man's

A poem from 2018

Hesitation…

Deviation…

Repetition…

The old man’s prostate

Makes its presence felt

Thermostat Wars

A poem from 2018

“I’m really cold”

“I’m fairly hot”

...let battle commence!

That Moon

A poem from 2018

That moon

That strange-looking moon

Pregnant with meaning

Only for the fevered imagination

Of the poet

The devil

And the eschatologist

Endless Battle

A poem from 2018

They rise up, you cannot keep them down

You can brutally destroy them, yet more spring up to take their place

An endless battle, oppressor and oppressed

...Shaving

Screams

A poem from 2018

Piercing screams

I wish it would stop!

… Young children playing

Modern Art

A poem from 2018

"a child could've drawn that!"
"a child did draw it"
... Modern Art

Kate and Sidney

A poem from 2018

Kate and Sidney

The odd couple

In some ways so alike

In others far apart

Kate’s a funny girl

Pure at heart and solid

Sid’s a bit of a wide boy

And smells a little off

Many say they go together well

Their relationship is hot

Housed together in a firm embrace

Together they feel safe and loved

As for me, I like to get Kate alone

To be honest, Sid makes me feel queasy

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash

Short Story

A poem from 1986

(For best effect recite in Humphrey Bogart voice.)

I climbed onto the bus

it was the 139 to Dalglish Road

the driver looked at me

I stared at him

he looked at me a little longer

I could see I had him worried

“Dalglish Road”, I growled

“forty pence please”, he replied

I put my hand into my trouser pocket

and drew out some loose change

I handed him a 20p and a 5p

and hoped he wouldn’t notice

he noticed

so I slowly handed him three more 5p’s

and glared at him

“hurry up, please, young man” came the voice of an old lady

I turned around

and looked into her wrinkled face

I smiled

turned around again

and walked on

I elected to sit in the third seat down on my right

I reached for my cigarettes

but the “no smoking” sticker on the window glared accusingly at me

I got up

and climbed the stairs to the top deck

there she was, ahead of me

the only other passenger up here

“of all the seats on all the buses in all the town you had to get onto this one”, she said

I bent down to kiss her

but she turned away

how long had it been?

Three years?

I held her chin in my rough, manly hand

and turned her face gently towards mine

“how’s your mother?” I asked

“she died last week”

“oh”

did you ever wish you’d kept your mouth shut?

I know I do

especially went I visit the dentist

Antithesis of a Love Poem

A poem from 1986

your eyes are half-closed in permanent sleep

your voice is drippy

and your hairstyle is out of date

your legs are like tree trunks

the bark scaled with Dutch Elm disease

your voice is like a foghorn

your nose is squidgy and piggy

and your feet like a pigeon’s

your hair is like rope

if I were to run my fingers through it

I’m sure they’d come out bitten to pieces

by the indwelling creatures

half of your teeth are missing

but I have to admit

that your moustache is well-groomed