Monthly Archives: December 2021

So, what’s another poem to you?

I don’t do ‘real’,

‘proper’

poetry.

It’s not for me –

it might not be be for you.

Anyway, I just say

what comes to mind,

and find that

‘that’

is

‘my’

poetry voice.

It’s your choice

as to whether you read it,

heed it,

feed it to the hungry poetry fishes,

whose wishes are

to consume words dangling

upon the lines that I lower their way,

or cast adrift

in their general direction –

a selection of which

are just like those written above;

or would you rather I wrote

a sonnet of love?

The Four Haiku of the Apocalypse

1. Pestilence

I bring you sickness,

plagues of all shape and size-

do you feel unwell?

2. War

Battles that you hate,

pointless death to one and all,

and for what purpose?

3. Famine

Not a morsel there,

in your empty cupboard bare –

eat of the thin air.

4. Death

Well, it’s at an end,

and what a relief, my friend;

off to Hell you go!

The Poetry Well

The poetry? Well…

I pulled up the bucket,

from the depths of the well,

but the bucket was empty,

from it’s weight

I could tell

that there wasn’t a poem,

in it at all,

so I began to caterwaul,

and, well…

I’ll try again in a day or two,

until then, I bid you “Adieu!”

“Hey! Where are the Poems, Dude?”

“Hey! Where are the Poems, Dude?”

I know,

there seems to be a non-glut

of my poetry lately;

but, it’s there for a reason –

‘tis the season to be jolly,

prancing around with a sprig of holly,

loitering under the mistletoe,

wrapping last-minute presence of mind,

with recycled tarpaulins.

Actually, I don’t know why

the Poetry Well seems to be dry,

perhaps I filled too many buckets,

and now there is a need to replenish the source-code (mental note ‘Ode to a Source-Code’ –

and then rejoin my journey

upon the Geode less unravelled.

“Excuse me? Does any of this make sense?”

No, not really – it’s just one of those

stream-of-consciousness writes

I suppose.

Anyway, my New Yurt’s resolution

might be to relight the poetry 🔥

and give you what you most desire …

a decent poem from me.

Well, maybe not quite your

most desirous thing –

but, who knows

what the future will bring?

“Am I in the House of the Dog?”

Am I in the House of the Dog?

What?

Am I in the “Dog House”?

Do you want to be in the “Dog House”?

No.

Well, the good knees is that you are ‘not’ in the “House” of the “Dog”, nor are you in the “Dog” “House”.

That’s good, then, isn’t it?

Well… it’s only because I haven’t found out what you’ve done wrong… yet. But, I will.

Oh.

Oh, indeed.

Three sheets to the wind

I threw three sheets of paper

into the air;

they were swiftly carried away.

to, I don’t know where,

but, away,

away from me,

perhaps to sea,

to seek a land

where they could live,

and give hope

to those who had none.

If only I had remembered to write upon those three sheets,

Before they had gone.

You’re never alone with a clone

You’re never alone

with a clone …

with a clone

you are never alone …

never ever alone

alone

Never ever alone

with a clone.

With a clone

you are never alone.

(I’m just a) cardboard cutout

I’m not cut out for this;

standing in the rain,

my cardboard apathy

scaring no crows,

buttering no parsnips –

so the idiom goes.

You wouldn’t recognise me,

even if you knew

who

I was supposed to be …

me.

I’m just a cardboard cutout, baby,

listen to iron filings, maybe?

Cauliflowers

If you’ve ever spoken to a cauliflower

for nigh on an hour

you would know

how it is.

If you’ve never spoken to a cauliflower

at all,

then you wouldn’t have a clue.

However, some people don’t like cauliflowers,

and a few cauliflowers

(the angsty ones)

don’t like people.

This makes for difficult conversations

at the best of times,

and may lead to fisty-cuffs at the worst.

So, if you’ve ever gotten

on the wrong side of a cauliflower,

you are probably scarred for life.

Cauliflowers, generally,

give as good as they get.

Tickled onions and tickled beetroot

I like tickling onions,

and also tickling beetroot –

perhaps it’s just me