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.