Monthly Archives: April 2013

My Penultimate Poem – 30-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford


The Penultimate Poem

The Penultimate Poem as written by me

With my ultimate pen – but there’s a problem that I just didn’t see;

And it’s this: It’s the last day of April, I feel such a fool,

I lost the sense of timing, forgot the golden rule,

That April hath but thirty days… ooops!

So, this is still my Penultimate Poem, my last but one…

Before my next poem, the Ultimate One!

But, deary me, what is the one after that to be?

Is there such a thing as an Ante-ultimate poem, I ask?

Or a Post-Ultimate one? Or some literary term that fits a name to the task?

I think I have made an error in calculation;

Missed the elation that the last day of our journey will sing

Now our poetical month is nearly up. One thing

More… What next? What will tomorrow bring?

April the thirty-first will see my thirst to write a poem

About thirty-one sheiks, or invertebrate breaks,

Or whatever takes my fancy. Chancy topics from the sub-tropics;

Odes from abodes or lyrics about clerics…

What will I do? What will you?

Perhaps make a brew…

Fancy a cuppa?

And a biscuit or two?

And then there’s April thirty-two…


Nobody’s Prefect (my autobiography) I’ve made mistakes – a few! But, not too few to mention. This would be a pretty dull curfew Without the element of a third dimension. If only I’d learnt from the bridges That I’d burnt! … Continue reading

29 Questions – 29-04-2013 by Graeme sandford


“A Beautiful Desert Oasis”



Climbing up on Donnell Hill


‘I can see the city lights’


In San Bernardino.



‘A fool in love –


A crazy situation’


In loco parentis – apropos of something…


Or nothing.



‘And if you want…’


To be dreaming of a certain place


‘It’s Californication!’



Why, on day twenty-nine of @NaPoWriMe

Do I sit here considering the relative merits

Of my poetry; how it’s written, and where it’s…

Going? I, have no way of knowing!

Are my poems just a strange way of telling and showing?

Would a psychiatrist, having looked me up,

Then looked me up and down, lock me up,

Or run me out of town?


Are all the leaves brown?


Questions; I have many.

Answers; few and varied,

Do the truths lay (or lie) buried?

Who is to say?

And who is to listen?

Is it true that all that is gold does not glisten?

I have soaked up words from far and wide

I store them in an untidy vault somewhere well deep inside,

But, even so, they are readily available for use and, lo,

I spiel them off for you to hear and know

That I am so full of titter and tat, that

I spout forth with lyrics and verse,

That are randomly chosen, no chance to rehearse,

And they fall: splat. Splat! Splat!! Upon the page,

Ad hoc, al fresco, whatever is a la mode, a la rage.


Which leads me on to the point of this treatise in print:

Is there a soupcon of worthiness in’t?

Or am I just a WikiGoogleMan with a plan

Or a faulty auto-correctional facility,

Or is trying to make head or tail of all this leading to an institutional futility?

You tell me. Please! I wish for my non-understanding to seize –

And that should have been ‘cease’ but I was not, with that rhyme, pleased!


And so it goes…




Nobody knows.

Twenty-Eight – 28-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford







And let’s get this right

If not, the fingers will point at you.






(First to forth, alphabetically, is that made clear)





Lord Foster

(Sounds like the Dramatis Personae from Shakespeare’s, King Lear)




(Do we know people of fame by a single name?

e.g. Bono, Cher, Ringo, Madonna)




Sir Nicholas

(a knight, a Sir, how do you do? It’s an honour)






(three Dicks, a Ray, a Nick

Do names shortened thus, make you sick?)




Sir Terence

(come, and see the system’s inherence)




(twenty-eight digitally enhanced personages

To signify the talent that through their bodies rages)





TWENTY EIGHT FINGERS is a collection of casts of the index fingers of creative people including visual artists, musicians, writers, animators, architects and poets; highlighting the diversity of creative thinking and practice. The piece includes the cast index fingers of Alan Bennett, Richard Billingham, Raymond Briggs, Sir Terence Conran, Richard Deacon, Tacita Dean, Ludovico Einaudi, Tracey Emin, Lord Foster, Antony Gormley, Sir Nicholas Grimshaw, Mona Hatoum, Susan Hiller, Anish Kapoor, Richard Long, Hugh Masekela, Roger McGough, Morten Morland, Alice Oswald, Nick Park, Cornelia Parker, Tom Phillips, Mary Quant, Ed Ruscha, Michael Sandle, Edmund de Waal, Vivienne Westwood and Benjamin Zephaniah.

27 Forever! 27-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford


In the land of the Delta Blues

At the Crossroads where the Devil

Took the soul and lit the fuse.


Formed the Stones, Left the stones,

left the rolling for others to do,

Couldn’t get No Satisfaction; so had to Paint it Black for you.


‘Purple Haze all through my brain…’

I listen to his cool refrain;

We’ll never see his like again, excuse me, while I…


‘Me and Bobby McGee’

Both miss the girl that sang for me,

It was no sweet voice that set her free. 


Mr. Mojo Risin’, the sunset fell on you

As you broke on through to the other side,

And the doors closed, as they do.


Play as you go; too soon, you know,

And never hear into what you’d grow

So, Mute, you go; Mute you go.


A tale of a Knight, that felt so right,

Oh, what might have been; when Knight met queen –

Acting the part, so sorely felt, did you depart.


Come on over, Valerie wants a chat,

But, life was not to be your crack,

And you are not coming back in black


You learnt the truth at… twenty-seven

That life was not for you, but Heaven…

Or Hell! But, you live on; that, I can tell.

2-6 (an extra poem for today) 26-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford



An author:

He dreams

Of wishes;

He writes

As Summer,

Or Winter,

Is Coming.


On Monday,

At market,

We wander

In places –

So broken

Or silent

Of regard.



He viewed

Us relics

As artist

In Utopia.

Twenty-Six – 26-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford



Twenty-six, two and six, half-a-crown

Throw stones - feel free; pick up sticks;
All fall down!
As my ego tricks my id into thinking my Twitter User Name is @ME

Brutal hot licks, modern-day picks, guitar heroes Styx- that's really really free;
Plectrum flicks, audience mix, in a mosh-pit society.

Needle pricks, no drugs fix, giving blood, giving it duty-free;
It doesn't cost an arm or a leg, but it takes it out of me.

Relics, acrobatics,  Chichester chicks, Horlicks
Instead of a cup of tea
Aerodynamics, night at the flicks, partly digested politics -
It's party-time, you see!
Nix nix, throw mud, some sticks,
Fairly successful Summer Olympics,
Vicks Nasal Spray, 

Is there anything more to say?

"What about a Twix?

Or Twenty-six!"