When you are caught in the headlights
of an oncoming poet’s wittering,
it would be really useful
if you could just press the mute button
bringing calm to an, otherwise,
chaotic outpouring of poesy.
Then, you could concentrate on other things,
more important things,
and await what the future brings
without the inconvenience
of rhyming couplets
and Iambic Pentameters
doing your head in.
So, let’s all pray for the day
when the Poet Mute Button
comes our way.
Tomorrow it is
National Poetry Day –
please write a Haiku.
If you can’t write one
it’s not the end of the World…
that is next Tuesday.
We need Looe Paper,
we need it now
as we all must have
rolls to play;
cast us, somehow;
roll out the barrel,
(without Colin Farrell –
he’d just act up –
as actors do tend to do)
And the headline for today –
which is garish – does say,
‘We need Looe Paper!
Yes, we do!
Because we all need something
to read on the Looe!’
edhen
yn
an wedhen.
Moon Over Looe.
That Moon,
over Looe,
blue, slim
with edge thin;
lost, bold, cold;
what else?
Cool dude,
nude, rude,
spin away?
Ne’er! Stay!
That Moon,
over Looe,
seen.
The table set,
with food galore,
glasses, cutlery,
no room for more,
and then disaster!
Faster than you could say, “Oh, dear!”
the table top did sudden clear,
with leaves that fell,
from up to down,
and contents dropping,
(no chance for stopping),
did cause a frown
upon my face,
the smile had gone;
and the fallout was a bomb-site
second only to none.
In a thousand years from now
will things be just the same,
when they’ve changed so much in a hundred?
And, would we be able to claim
knowledge of a place
where we thundered in youth
and withered in age,
when the world spins ever quicker,
just to reach a final stage?
We walk these streets
as those before,
and look out to sea
from that same shore;
but, tomorrow is another day,
what happens then…
well, who can say?
I’ve watched you for a thousand years,
I’ll watch a thousand more,
I am the one who helps your boat
reach safely to the shore.
For when you are in peril
a-sailing on the sea;
you might needs pray to someone
and that someone might be me.
I woke up this morning
(da dada da da!)
and found that I only had nine toes!
Where, is it,
when a man is missing a toe,
where is it
that he goes?
Nobody knows.
So, for a toe,
I suggest
that there should be
a faux toe shop
where they can add on
the missing toe –
the one that has gone.
And, if, subsequently,
one happens to find
the missing digit,
you’ll have a spare
in hand (so to speak)
and won’t have to pay
the faux toe shop
a visit.
“Nadelik Lowen!”
I called to all the people.
“Kynnyav yw!” they cried.
Graeme Sandford 