Lowestoft Holler

There’s this little green town on the East coast
Where work all gets lost in the cloudy smoke
There’s a tan on the beach if you’re visiting
It still comes with cheap chips and ice cream

Every day the sun lifts the darkness
Breaking memories anchored in some trawling past
No crowds fill the streets, they’re in online
Gossiping or gaming over flat wine

Books banked in dust pad the library
While shops stocked in staple brands of jewellery
Alternate with smoking miscellany
As broad across as sacred is our greenery

When you pass by, and you will, don’t be afeared
The East coast is not the place it used to be
As calm and cool as any burg is wont to be
A little slower true, but aren’t we meant to be

 

Jamila

Dust
Grits her yawn
Her wind ruffled pool
Slaps
Fried blue concrete
This Arabian sea-side
Tires her dry eyes while
Tall shadows, bleached parasols
Blur through her
Squinted tears
Blazing her long hot days
Through mocktails
Banal tales
Airport novels
While the palm dials
Time to her
Dubai brightened
Sun

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)

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.

The Horse and the Cat

Where are you bound cat?
Asked a horse in dulcet tones
Why ask you?
Are you interested in my goings
or comings?
The cat replied.
You, puss,
the horse whinnied.
are too impertinent for my liking!
You – dear horse – are too ignorant for a horse.

This said, the cat rubbed it’s body about the great calves of the equine!
And you, generous feline, are too
bold for a creature of your minority.
Shall we walk?
The cat moved off,
the horse followed.

What a glorious day!
Remarked the cat as they wandered
out to rolling landscapes.
I agree.
Was the horses only exclamation.
Now shall we not continue?
The cat seemed restless.
No; you are correct!

A cloud enveloped them
and the horse,
(in its giant monstrosity)
and the cat,
(in its sly minority)
became one.

The mighty sun beat down on vacant stables
Through the dark our moon glowed on nights effluent stream.

March

This balmy March night
is sweetly delicious
A purple-filled, cloud-coloured sky
saturated in pollen
Licks at my face
Caressing and exciting me
a carefree jubilant love, warm
enticing and gorgeously fresh!

How about this night
so lithe and fascinating
Spectral whirs of light
and smells fill my head
as the sky whirs on.
Sweet sweet March.
Yum.

Autumn 2016

Apparently it’s autumn in Otham
Though nobody’s told the sun
A parched carpet of crunchy leaves
Adding the “Shh” to our school run

Crunchy leaves

Red Sunset

Damn that deep red sun sets hard

Drowning days light in the tide of the dark

Sending in pink blushes of clouds last breaths

Triumph eternal in hourly deaths

June

We’re finally at the end of the crazy-June! Leaving us still with 2 months of silly season (English summer) to go… Where that will take us who can possibly know?!

June Oh June

With your bitch, full, blue moon.
You run on in pieces
in drips so drab
and break up the fun
that we waited to have.
You tyrannous slut
of a month
– Cat June!

Bringing the promise of sun and fun
to dash them and crush us –
you run on and run.
So you’ll guess I’m not pleased with you;
guess we’re not growing
to love your foul days of rain,
while you hide the suns glowing!

Oh June.
Oh my.
What have you become
now so late and wet
were you once called the sun?
I cry for you, baby
and the tears sting my cheeks!
I cry everyday
through your long blasted weeks.

Beck sun

This is an updated post from 2012…

Musical Dawn

When that Black thatch
with them Blue eyes
shook the old cat
out of White lies:
Swiftly all the noise
of morning broke.

And this Grey crowd
full of Red heads
caught great Pink clouds
‘cross their cold beds…
And it dawned on!

Then tears soaked each side
and washed all colours clean
bleaching each bright with pride
– shining through what they mean:
Only the Gold sun left reflections
on this gory scene.

Grey Air

Clouds announce their entrance
as they camouflage the sun.
Though I know that they are many,
their appearance is as one…

A coldly breeze envelopes me
then follows certain rain:
This does not cast a cloud o’er me –
I’ll know the sun again.

Tribute

The sky she sits on
I cannot reach
I climb as high as I am able
She catches my eye and restarts her tease!

Part 20 (Easy Written)

Here comes a short series of poems with a faster tempo than my usual writing. I was inspired back in the 90’s by a great tune called Born Slippy, from the group Underworld.

Since starting, I have developed these pieces from first trying to imitate the lyrical rollarcoastery of the tune, although I have no music in my head when writing / reading them, I have attempted to amplify a beat through the words.

The series of 10 works is called Played at a different speed and initially they were just numbered Part 20, 21 and so on, however I then started titling each and over the next 10 posts you can enjoy the full ensemble. [although this obviously sounds pretentious, it is done in fun – as most of my work – even the bleak shit – so you take it as seriously as you want… they’re your eyes.]

Little bounty captive
waiting
low fired sword
sharp from debating
and alternative hating –
Blue and Red alternating.
As the criers
and those flyers,
crying –
flying,
catch the midday sun
and hold the falling sun,
this burning sun.
Morning sun.
This is our sun!
And it’s in print
for all the readers and writers –
all the bleeders,
all the watchers
seeing.
Calm sun –
calm,
calm sun…
Cry light
head bleeders,
while they’re fleeing.
Sun bomb sun –
calm, calm sun –
as they’re running.

Tomorrow: Part 21

Key words

Relax!
Kick back,
take stock,
unwind.
Accept where you’re at:
ease the fret
from your mind.
Take an open account
of your life
and of those
who make colour and add
to the light of our kind.

Stay focused,
directed,
keep rhythmic
and new.
as open to change
as the clouds are to blue.
Be free
in your head.
Be steady
be true –
During spiralling lies
sincerely be you.

Day Light

(for) Morning our sun
breaks early, shines fierce –
lighting up all.
Drying puddles of tears.
Heralds each day begun,
the end of night fears!

So time moves along,
wakes new eyes to ideas,
lends broke hearts a new song;
shouts love on deaf ears.
I ponder the motions
through this mind so naive
so wrapped up with questions –
how I’m s’posed to achieve?

The glorious sun
catches dreams, feeds the breeze
keeps my loves all-day-warm
yet I long for a piece…
from here I spy a gloom
which promises ease
I fight with these notions,
to stand here on my feet.

A wonder undone
every thought a disease?
Where’s the answer I long
what to do to appease?
As the rising horizon
comes again from the east
where are all my dreams flowing?
Is there peace in this sleep?

At last my mind’s numb
floats in hoops and queries
another sunny day gone
Left my head just memories.
Yet, morning our sun
breaks early shines fierce.

Waterfalls

This is the side of the fall
where it’s dry
all the time,
where the sun doesn’t shine.
Noises break the dust up
but it’s safe
so long as the water
doesn’t stop.

Eastern Shores

On these eastern shores so dark and late at night
cold waves break over stones and wash them clean
Beneath the fat moon floating proud above the belching surf
A sinking ship of broken dreams slips quiet from the scene

Shortly as sun cracks its fiery whip on the day
and bathes this stony silence in sweet blue
Straggling at the waters edge the shadows of last night
worn and tired and wet this sunken crew.

Lowestoft Beach January 2015

Young Love

Too late for creation
Mike jumped off his bike
Rolled though the forests of azure!

Swift as the bumble dance
Hot in July
The race for ache placement was sure.

All this while Phoebe grew
Large as a house
As she sat knitting scarves at the shore

And cried every evening
For someone she missed
But when asked to name names she missed more

201101

You can’t paint all beauty in one colour
You won’t solve all riddles with one brain
You can’t right all wrongs with one rule
And you’ll never fill all guts with just one grain!
You can’t be all people with one skin
You just can’t be all night with only one sun
You can’t know all love with one heart
You shouldn’t tell all tales in one tongue
You couldn’t plant all forests with one seed
You can’t cure all sick with one pill
And you can’t live a life in just one day
You can’t only be day with one night still
You can’t be all to everyone
or everything to one
Yet we can all be, under one God?

The Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun, William Blake

The Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun, William Blake

Lost Rooms in Big Houses

Onwards and upwards
All qualms escalate
Until early on Thursday
In the rooms of the great

Someone raised crisis
Someone dragged up dismay
Profit asked for freedom
Who (we can guess) couldn’t play

This dawn of confusion
Sharply brought to a halt
Thanks to warm rays of sunshine
Heaping hearts from the cold