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By the Book (sic)
By the Book (sic)
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Monthly Archives: April 2019
The Last Day of April
The Last Day of April
Like the first,
the last day of April
is a curious one.
They both bookend all the other days,
yet one is welcoming them,
whilst the other bids them a find ‘adieu!’
You, may not realise
that April held such a surprise
as it did –
it may have been carefully hid.
Or it might have been a month
of no newsworthy events at all –
maybe.
Call it what you will (still ‘April’ methinks)
April has been one that we will remember
long after…
thingummy…
has gone.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #AprilTheThirtieth, #graemesandford, #poetry. #poem, April, NaPoWriMo
Meanwhile, on Radio Radford… @RadioRadford
Meanwhile, on Radio Radford… @RadioRadford
“Hi! I’m Miles, from Anywhere.”
“And what do you want from me? Directions?”
“No! I’m Miles Ashton, from Anywhere.com – I called earlier, and spoke to… an ‘Amanda Lifeboats?’ “
“Ah, yes; that was me – I conveniently, for the purposes of this sketch, seem to have forgotten.”
“That’s right! That’s exactly what is says here on my script.”
“Where?”
“Just there – below the ‘Amanda Lifeboats’ section.”
“Ah, yes, there it is. So, he continues, what can I do for you, Miles from Anywhere, on this cold and lonely highway, nowhere at all near a blue hotel in California, dreaming of a white Christmas?”
“Could you play ‘Star-Trekkin’ ‘ by The Firm – it’s for my cousin Jack, he’s a Cornish astronaut.”
“A Cornish astronaut? There’s no such thing!”
“That’s okay, Cousin Jack is imaginary, too.”
“Right? Oh, well; here ‘is’ ‘Star Trekkin’ ‘ by The Firm. And Miles…?
“Yes?”
“It’s time for you to boldly go. Bye!”
“By-“
I may be considered a ‘comedy’ poet.
I may be considered a ‘comedy’ poet.
I may be considered a ‘comedy’ poet,
with a quirky style;
because, I am
not
an all-know-it;
and I try to write poems
that make people smile,
or laugh.
Giraffe.
The day of the giraffe tea party had finally arrived,
‘all’ the giraffes were gathered
in the Village Hall;
the veritably hardened of the drinkers
had gathered in the corner by the largest urns,
and they were necking down hot lapsang souchong by the bucketful
and quoting Robbie Burns.
But, some matters ‘are’ serious;
some issues are contentious,
or hot –
potatoes, for example, are not.
Unless you consider Climate Change a hot potato;
or global warming; insensitive intensive farming;
these issues are alarming.
The truth be told,
I am just one poet
doing what he does,
in his own silly way;
but that doesn’t mean I don’t care
about the serious things.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #GreenHouse #Launceston, #GreenIssues, #poetry. #poem, #SeriousStuff, @GHFeelGoodFood, comedy, poet
April The Twenty-Ninth
April The Twenty-Ninth
April The Twenty-Ninth
arrived with a plomb.
I was a lert;
others were, variously,
a droit, a fraid, or a miable.
Disregarding all that,
April The Twenty-Ninth was,
variously, wet, dry, stormy, calm,
an irritant, a balm,
hot, cold, young, old
and liable to amuse, confuse
and leave us all wondering how and why
a day like this could call itself anything other
than a day of ease…
or bother.
April The Twenty-Eighth
April The Twenty-Eighth
April The Twenty-Eighth
has been a day.
too far.
We drove in the car;
stopped off at a bar;
listened to Eleventh Earl of Mar
(by Genesis);
invented Radar (again);
travelled much too far;
drank a pint of cider vinegar from a jam jar;
boxed up some shopping in a Spar(
relayed our local road surface
in two-dimensional tar;
relocated to Zanzibar;
and then walked back to England
for a cup of char.
So, nothing out of the unusual.
The Reverend Green
The Reverend Green
The Reverend Green
was last seen
upon Lincoln Green’s
Bowling Green.
“XP” #SoCS @LindaGHill
“XP” #SoCS @LindaGHill
“Xpialidocious!” I waved my wand and the whole of the internet disappeared.
“How are you going to put it back together again?” queried Alice.
“Well…” I floundered. “Perhaps I can Google it?”
“Numpty!” said Alice.
The world had just become a quieter place.
Alice and I lived happily together until the unexpected storm blew our house down – and us with it.
Posted in Poetry
April The Twenty-Seventh
April The Twenty-Seventh
April the Twenty-Seventh
arrived with a fanfare (or funfair)
of trumpets;
followed by tea and crumpets;
and, lastly, a soupçon of something sweet – just to keep it neat.
She Sells Seagull Snaps
She Sells Seagull Snaps
She sells seagull snaps beside the sea;
she tried to sell a seagull snap to me…
Graeme Sandford 