A heavy mist sits
On the ghosts of trees
Damping sound close
To the dark deep
Fox barks sound far
Through wet air
Thick night
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Category Archives: New poetry
A dam ssong (201020)
I hear the clatter of the rain
Feel the tug that summer’s flown
In my castle shut away
In England where my heart lies
I am not smart or rich or clean
Like all those faces on the screen
My life’s a humdrum tapestry
It sticks like so much shit to flies
Another day another day
Through my window to the world
Another great crowd chants and cheers
Triumphant songs never heard
So many dreams lie half awake
Whispers of neglected sleep
Loved ones smile and shy away
Waiting out those fairer skies
We stay inside for brighter days
Bearing pain we don’t understand
Lucky when we’re making bread
Sharing stories learning lies
And tomorrow is a world away
A world of hours wrapped in a day
A world of wonder to be loved
Caught in the storm-eye of the wise
Famlaaah
She was all
brrap brraap braaa
And he was all
fine fine fine
Where she
melted air with her glare
He was
still cool serene
Her
high pitch siren alarming
His
Warm bass tone disarming
She was all
face in your face to face
As he was
Warm smiles and space
A tuneful duet
Mighty reflection
Power ballard
Of loves
Of affection
She was his yin
He her yan
Lighting their little home
Bright with elan
Round glass
Square chair
Long table
Loud noise
Smoke cloud
Blue sky
Pink sun
Pink cloud
Dust cloud
Round glass
Green grass
Pink bloom
Sweet song
Sweet dusk
Quiet road
Long garden
Square table
Plate clatter
Round glass
Half done
Round mug
Hot tea
Low hum
Late flock
Soft giggle
Cool breeze
Lazy glide
Round glass
Still trees
Still air
Scared flap
Calm coo
Closed bud
Low sun
Dark sly
Quiet calm
Our Flo
Let me tell about Flo
Sisterless sister
Brotherless mother
Firebrand lover
Balled-up energy
Caterwaul wife
Flo, you see right
Is no blunt-edged knife
She’ll give you her last
Stand up and be counted
She calls how she sees it
Flo sees right through it
First in the morning
Last down at night
If you’re up for a battle
Flo’s all out to fight
You keep Flo close
Keep her close to your back
Take a breath, drop your guard
She’s already attacked
Sweet menace of mind
Lighting evenings with laughter
Flo burns your night
Brings the dancing tongue
Now you know Flo
See her tenor, her gravity
Your eyes now clear to her
Threat and gentility
When you feel her breath
Some dark quarter drunk sweetly
Keep your wits sharp
Check your tongue for stupidity
Buzz flies
Those crazy flies
Those crazy eyes
Flying flapping
tiny thighs
Swarming
sooting up our skies
Dripping tiny dirty lies
Buzz they say
Their buzzing way
These drowning flies
I eulogise
Dreams
immersed in nightly wine
Filled with drowning little flies
Lying flies
bilndly baptised
Buzz they say
Dumb buzzing way
End of the world blues
Two and two is four
Double what you need
I got you girl
You got me
Ah poor boy, treads on the beach
Sea at your knees
Sky within reach
Wind on your back
Sun in your face
Yeah coast boy
End of the world
Hey good girl, feet on the beach
Salt in your hair
Sand on your knees
Tears in your eyes
Smile on your face
Yeah coast girl
End of the world
She got gold, her old soul
He got ink
His hard skin
They got breath
Warm in their throats
Here we are
End of the world
Dog Bark Afternoon
Here is his yellow mug glowing on the deckrail, glinting like a smile in the finally sun.
Chatter of some banal garden variety lilts thru this bright crisp afternoon.
The combi kicks in coughing light clouds of mist
Twisting their dance to our fat clouds of smoke,
Tales and sagas billow in the azure
Building towers of cloudscapes that, like our potholed stories,
Effervesce pleasantly before fading to blue
Utterly
How sweet it is to enjoy a social cup on the first sunny weekday of the year
Yarning with old friends
With new plans and new friends
As the world tilts
Our warm afternoon sun wanes
Clouds freed from neighbouring homes, down the hill, blur this meaningful dusk and
wafted by gull wings,
heralded by the chorus of East coast chirpers and
finally the quiet groan of traffic ebbing again
Now still our evening
Glinting last rays speckle the porch as our door closes happily on the night.
(Combi – abbreviation of ‘Combination Boiler’, the gas machine that heats the water and central heating in our house)
Flat White
Our round moon stares blankly into the fractured dark of space
Down here, erstwhile, two sirens bleat at each other giving chase
They are distant wailing tho’, easily drowned out by the grunting clack
Of some late diesel dragging mountains some way down some local tracks
A murmur close at hand alerts those of us with some keener senses
That neighbours are readying for bed
And above my head
The crash of plates kicks off the rounds of splashing
of drains washing last nights dinners and dreams beneath our feet.
Goodnight sweet Britain
Dream well of burning roads spewing clouds of woe
as cars and buses still rumble late along your sleeping streets.
And race the dawn
When our grey air
Will once again, like magic,
Fill with twits and twittering
Pretty fluttering’s
Sweeping your groggy sleep-glued eyes and brushing the bright of light aside
Breathing fresh breath into your grey old wings.
Atomic Ironic
They asked us to build
An island to build a base to
Build a gun on
Then
They asked us to build
An island to build a town on
To get blown up
They got us to build these
Far from home
On the other side of the planet
An impossible task
Taking miles of man hours
And costing an aeon of money
We spent our time
Ingeniously
Breaking the codes of the atom
Building the biggest
The wildest, the newest
Securing our seat
At the side of the mighty
Wasting our atmosphere
Nuking the air
To check
That no further threats
Grew anywhere…
Why we poppy
A red flower on your breast
Feeding thoughts of war
A century of life lost young
Defending freedom
In European mud the first seeds
Bloom among youths’ blood
Ensuring rights and laws upheld
Defending freedom
Yet wars and wars again
Beset our Earth, doom our kin
Piling dead poppies on the pain
Defending freedom
As a century of poppies passes
Blurring right’s, a little out of focus
Battles reign for Aurelian
Defending freedom
A Terse 3 Verser
This bleak streak
Of weaknesses
Conspires to undermine
Our promises
Your clear dark stare
Remembers love
My baleful pale blue
Needs more of yours
So in that needle point
Of passions flame
Save those embers
For our latest game
Gateaux Piment
When you’re short of breath walking up the street
Gateaux Piments
When your jeans hug tight and your buttons squeeze
Gateaux Piments
When you’ve just the time for a sneaky snack
Gateaux Piments
You wake with a start from a sweaty nap
Gateaux Piments
When your itching toes get no soothing scratch
Gateaux Piments
A tasty treat in a handy batch
Gateaux Piments
Country poem / Shtrum Tikh
Strum tick
Strum tick
All sing along
Strum tick
It’s my country song
Late in fat moon
Shiny night
Strum tick
Lights a stream of bright
Strum tick
Strum tick
Soulful pace
Strum tick
Here’s a heart warmed place
Rich in history
Sweet in sound
Strum tick
Swell with hearts sweet pound
Strum tick
You’re my hearts hot fire
Strum tick
Music drawn by wire
Here in this sweet tune
So sure
Leaves the beat
For love to pour
Travel, Greek
In the deep blue sky there is that white sun that shines so it burns the tiles between our sunbeds and the pool
After breakfast mum and dad play catch with me and all the other kids who stay in this hotel in Kokkari
Last night I ate octopus and squeezed it’s suckers in my teeth and waited for it to wriggle but it didn’t it was fried
On Sunday we are driving up a mountain to a cave
Where mum says Pythagoras was an early believer in triangles
And all the beaches here are lapped by water that’s crystal clear and lets me chase the different fishes which swim near
On the plane that brought us here my ears popped and I wanted to stay at Gatwick but now this is such a lovely place to stay I wish I could.
Scamper the rabbit
Our big, fat, white rabbit
Called Scamper
Has short white ears and pink staring eyes
I like feeding it carrots or lettuce
But Scamper likes sunflower seeds best
Our uncle Bill says Scamper’s too fat
And would be better off cooked
With carrots and broccoli in the pot
But mum’s promised we’re not going
To eat him; no matter how big and fat Scamper got.
The great Suffolk train ride
A residual stink
That acrid jarring of smells
Grating receptors and flashing memories
Of narrow escapes
Close shaves
The clawing tendrils of inertia
Rancid in manner
I squeeze my eyes tight, grin
Embracing this funk of what
Might have been.
We pull through Manningtree
Wondering the ghosts haunting
It’s industrial might
Desolate journeying through
Time’s very decay
In this error of modernisation
Thirty years dilapidation
The dead in the Dedham Vale
How well your dark flocks of sheep
Crowd your secret
As far removed from clouds
As your dark wet brickwork alleyways
And menacing piping
Anyone claiming this outpost of progress
Will need time and
Wealth to mobilise your dunes
Of crumbling rubble
Scrape habitable
Your vast concrete footprints
Me and my passenger friends
Flee North, hammering the short stretch
Of track left ‘train-friendly’
This far East
I love speed
Trees wave furiously
Frozen in streaks
Passing this great machine
We tear past bikers and dog walkers
The fluorescent smear of joggers,
Of heath-jumpers, bowl by the window
As a bright feeble January sun
Sweeps through the innards of our carriage
Painting faces and seats
In chilling reds and oranges
Until the next clutch of housing or industrial estates
Breaks those marvellous red beams
Inevitably someone impresses the brake
A forest of pylons
So gantry’s encase this slow snake.
50 Ways in Which I love Her
Those fingers and toes – that’s twenty
Her neck and her nose – There’s 2
Her belly
Her hair
Her smile
Her flair
And of course how she shares
I love you.
In my mind the tally’s now 30
Plus I argue her ‘Love You’s’ worth double
Then here is one more
I assure you, worth four
How she know’s
Every time
When there’s trouble.
From 50, we’re down to 16 (ish)
As my lovers
Hot love
Makes the chart
Some might find me smutty
To point out the putty
My mens-rea, tho’s to
Illume
Love’s dark art!
My ways carry on
Thru this dubious song
Which reminds me
My love birds warm trill
Humming when she finds happiness
When life is less a mess
Her’s the voice of the angels
A pill
Her giggle
Her get up
Her phobias
Like drinking and smoking
And shops
The way she finds worry
In the doe eyes of love
And that peak that she rides
And how quickly she
Stops.
Welcome to love life’s top 5!
Though I’d happily drone till you’re bored.
From the arch of her brow
To the grace in her swing
And her lips,
bitten tender in thought
The second spot’s filled by her breasts
And you might think that bawdily stark, but…
The point of this poem
The top of the chart
Is her forever surprise that she’s stolen my heart.
Local Cafe
This bubbling hubbub of babies and boobies
This packed rack of scooters, of trikes and of buggies
Steaming hot flat-whites and freezing cold smoothies
And tapas treats, chocolate sweets, all kinds of lovelies.
Here where the roads cross, facing the old cross
Where crosswords fill time or just buoy the headline’s dross
Where pizza gets eaten by Saturday dads
Where Friday lunch mums dish the news good and sad.
This raucous in calm, our oasis of mania
Awaits you in plain sight down Beckenham high street
The pit at the back for your kids to go batty in
Entices the spectrum of lively South London in.
about: Deli nene
The Last Word
These fucking fuckers
Fucking up our lives
For their personal stake
In our political state
Sucking our lives dry
Leading fates awry
Leaving fears to dry
And this comment’ry
That comedy
Which tries to make it seem alright
Is now as bad
And ignorant
As the fuckers so merrily fucking us
So shame on me
for plugging in
For staying tuned and trying
How sorely fucked the feeling is
As wit washes over this fucking
It’s us,
it’s you,
it’s me
That’s really surely fucking up
I hardly ever knew the game
Yet know that I’m now
Royally f**ked
