I had a dream
whereby I had to try
and pick up two pigs
from a grid reference
that I was given.
They would go in the back
of my parcel van –
though I sensed a lack of space,
and the sad look upon a pig’s face.
I knew not where the grid reference was,
although my supposition did yield
to the probability of a field;
however, before the back axle
on my van it broke,
from my being an Uber driver
for a pair of Porcine parcels,
from my dream
I had a dream.
I had a dream.
A dream, where I went back to the Age of Steam.
Steam irons, presses, engines, puddings and punks;
steam-powered Chinese junks;
Red-hot steam-pepper chillies- –
it was a strange dream.
Posted in Poetry
Noel and Liam were in a play
and I was a bit-part player
just plumbing in some pipes
and not getting the laughs that I sought.
Liam and Noel were drawing the crowds;
but, for how long would it last?
All seemed well on the opening night;
things were going alright:
however, I was understudy for one or t’other –
for when there was a fall-out from either dour brother.
They didn’t like the idea
that I was on standby,
ready to roll
with it being the first night
I ran down the road in my skibbly-wibblies
And not a single stitch more
The people who saw me they laughed and they cried
Or they took one more look – to be sure.
I ran down the road;
Then, back up it again
In nothing but a loin-cloth and skin
I was glad to get home
No further to roam
And did curse at the dream I was in.