Tag Archives: #film

I saw a film

I saw a film last night,

oh, boy!

about a girl

who lived a life

and wrote a book;

and though the book

was rather cool;

she had to work on it –

she very nearly never made it,

almost lost it all.

Summer Holiday?


As much as Cliff Richard
Laurie Peters and the Shadows
Are having a fun-filled
Sun-filled Summer Holiday
In Paris in 1963
I still can’t decide
Whether this bank holiday
Is a part of our Summer
Or is Summer just a figment
Of my imagination
A pigment of which
Is definitely grey.

TV Film Haiku #2 – Agatha Christie’s Sleeping Murder


Film Haiku #2 Agatha Christie’s Sleeping Murder

Agatha Christie
Her novel Sleeping Murder
With Miss Jane Marple

Murder Mystery,
Maybe there’s a red herring;
Jane will sort it out.

“The Butler did it?”

“I really don’t think he did;

There is no butler!”

The Golden Compass (Haibun)


The Golden Compass –
Watching the film this minute;
Should have read the book.

That is to say that I have got the book; haven’t read it and am having to work out what exactly is happening. Lyra (Lycra?!) and the Golden Compass are travelling North – some good concepts – I shall really have to get down to some catchy-uppy with my reading. G:)

Screen 17 – 17-04-2013 by Graeme Sandford



“What d’ya mean, ‘Seventeen!’

I didn’t know you had that screen.”

Our tickets and our popcorn bought,

We walked the corridor, ‘seventeen’ we sought.


And there at the end, and to one side,

The numbers one and seven espied;

We pushed on through the doors and stopped,

The expressions on our faces dropped.


We turned to go; but doors had gone,

No choices now but to carry on.

Row seventeen, seats seventeen and seventeen,

Were the only ones there, so, without hesitating…


We settled right down to watch all the trailers,

But there was an urgent announcement – through seventeen loud-hailers:

“The Next Movie Is Only Suitable For Adults Of A Certain Blood-Type!

There Are No Trailers Or Adverts, Forget All That Hype!”


We looked at each other – with fear on our faces,

Seeking mutual reassurance through visual embraces;

The Music (with a capital M) started and so did we,

It was ever so loud – ultra-decibelability!


And there upon the screen, a vision was seen;

A fifty-foot woman, entirely of green;

She gazed down upon us and her eyes all glowed red,

And these were some of the seventeen words that she said:


‘Of’, ‘Come’, ‘For’, ‘Our’, ‘Is’, and ‘Your’

Not the important ones, I readily concur,

But the others don’t bear thinking about in my head,

I’ll try and forget them – and that feeling of dread.


The end credits rolled, the lights came back up,

We’d not eaten our popcorn,nor did fizzy drink sup;

We looked at each other and sensed a slight change,

Where once there were humans, now there was strange.


The unruly tentacles took a while to accept,

Our feelers and proboscis, for a long time inept,

Were soon the most useful tools that we had,

And, eventually, the comments we received weren’t so bad.


But, the film was a flop, the cinema closed down,

The bulldozers moved in, Screen Seventeen left this town.

And that Orange Wednesday, is now just a blur,

And we don’t go out much, now, it’s just me… him… it… or her…





PS: The message actually was: “Persons Of earth, We’ve Come Here For Blood:

Your Blood Type Is Special For Our Species’ Good.”