I walked oot one day, for to stretch oot my legs;
I needed to clear from my head all the dregs
Of an evening’s hard drinking with whisky and gin
So, off to walk miles. At one step I’d begin.
I soon stopped for a wee while tae drink from my flask;
But, I couldnae get the lid off, it was a bit of a task
So I had to go thirsty, nae moisture for me
Until I went back home and had my supper for tea.
You and I have drawn a line between us
From me to you
From you to me
Living our lives in perfect symmetry.
We don’t need them
To the Kremlin
We don’t heed them
Just one line joining me and you
Is what there is, straight and true.
Images of midges
Pictures of fixtures
Drawings of curtains
Doodles of poodles
And a sketch of a ketchup bottle;
Half-empty or three-quarters full.
A lino-cut of a limousine
Outlined in chalk
Because I’m dead keen
To capture the likenesses of
A million vermillion things…
If only I could draw
I could be a drawing king.
But, I can’t
So, I won’t
And ‘don’t’ tell me I can;
I’m a wordsmith
Not an artist
I’m a letters-based man.
“Sometimes, ‘Life’ ‘is’ a roller-coaster.”
“Sometimes, life is just a broken toaster.”
I never wrote the first
But, it is reckoned (by me) that I
Wrote the second.
Or, if you look at things differently,
I did just write the first line;
But, I wasn’t the first to write it;
And, ‘I’ may as well own the second line;
As nobody else will care to claim it –
Or ‘dare to’ – a shame;
As it is rather a fine line
Between ‘life’ and ‘orate’
When even your auto-correct
Doesn’t want to co-operate;
I initially put ‘prate!’
Which is what I do…
On a regular basis.
I never knew that there were
So many poems upon
The subject of the dandelion.
But, when I looked…
A plethora of words
Upon the golden-leaved plant
That stems from the ground.
It made me happy to find
That there has been a tiny yellow flower
Inspiring the poets of mankind.
Vega, 1st Class Passenger.
I’m looking out the window
At the cows going by
I’m on the train to somewhere
But, I really don’t know why.
Because, I’m a dog of leisure
With all the world to see
Travelling’s a pleasure
As I travel First Class style – comfy!
There’s no rubbing shoulders with the smelly hoi-polloi
I have the greatest leg room of them all;
And no-one else I’ve seen has had a tickle of their tum;
If only one would stop and throw my ball.
Train travel, first class,
I’ll always recommend
Just bring a human with you
‘They’ have much more fun when they travel with a friend.
Ode to a Bee
One can only
That you are a flier
When with your wing to body ratio,
Aloft, you shouldn’t go
Than me, you know.
Nancy Mack’s poem
Top of my list:
‘Things to do’
Okay, it actually says:
‘Other’ things than that to do.
Lists to starboard
Lists to port
Lists of things to do and sort
And I sort of know that the ‘things’
But… I have a poem inside my head
And, that will not do
To leave it there, unwritten, not said
It seems, I think, rather unfair,
Doesn’t it often seem just like that to you?
I’ll just write it down
And then get on with the ‘important?’ things.
But, I just need to read it out
(To see if it works)
To measure how smoothly or not
The rhythm flows – or if it…
I’ll just spend a little time upon the…
Rhyme! Yes, that’s the word.
Because, if I didn’t it may sound quite absurd
When I come to read it out loud for the very first…
Ah… I have already used ‘time’ as an end of line rhyme;
And, for that matter, I’ve used ‘rhyme’ too.
You see, it’s things like that
That can make you look a fool
When you are sloppy with a poetry rule.
But, rules are for fools;
And break them
Mix up your metaphors;
Similes: shake them;
like a poet upon a paper C;
With ink of inkspiration
Creating words for your cup of tea.
At the top of my ‘To Do’ list
are the words ‘Write’ and ‘Poetry’
(it’s what the poems insist).