Tag Archives: #waiting

Another Waiter in Another Waiting Room.

Another Waiter in Another Waiting Room.

Waiting in the Waiting Room

for a fish to bite;

if you know what I mean –

which, you being you,

you probably don’t;

but, I won’t explain.

as explanations are unnecessary,

and altogether distracting.

So, not an ‘actual’ Waiting Room;

and not waiting for a fish to bite me; nor am I really waiting for anything in particular –

my words have arrived,

and I am doing with them what I do.

Then I shall pass them on to you.

The Train Gates at Totton – 15-10-2015


The lights were on
The gates were down
Nobody was waiting
Then, the train went through
The gates went up
The lights went out

I walked towards the gap

Then the lights came on
The gates went down
(Nobody had gone through)
But, this time
Two cars
And a weary traveller
Were its victims

They waited
I crossed the bridge
And then the train went through

It could have been the same train
As if on a toy-train set
But, I think, upon reflection, that it probably wasn’t

The gates went up
The lights went out
The two cars went through.

I never looked back

Waiting for the kettle to boil


Or ‘A Poem For Whilst The Kettle Is Boiling’

I switch the switch
(The kettle is ‘full’)
The electricity is then engaged
In a task
Of less than Herculean proportion
I proceed with caution
These are strange times
For less popular rhymes
And there is a drink to be made
Before my words do fade
Between us only time and space
And only space and time is between us
Watching paint dry
Waiting for the kettle to boil
I stand here
Giving silent words of encouragement
Until my virtual voice is spent
And I just observe the transaction
Taking place
There is, as yet, no steam
Clouding above my head
No shine to my face
That the task is nearing completion
I ask the Heavens for intervention
Did I mention
That I am waiting
Will it do so
Before I shuffle off this mortal coil?
If it never does
Will it be too late?
Will I get irate?
Shall I meet my fate?
Is the kettle not my mate?
Waiting for the kettle to boil.
Within this time I could have invented a painless procedure for the fitting of a uterine coil
Is the kettle my nemesis?
My foil?
And here I ask myself
What is a uterine coil?

The kettle still toiled.

Will my life be spoiled
If my drink remains unmade
Will I fade like my words?
Win no awards?
Or will the kettle’s whistle
Bring me salvation?
A cup of elation?
A cease to vexation?
Oh, well
Onwords and upwords
Hark what is that noise?
I hear the kettle calling

“You are *Forty-Seventh* in the queue -please hold.”


Are you buffering?
Waiting, suffering?
Are you always holding on the line?
Frequently call-waiting,
Hesitating (leading to over-heating)
Or, forever using that call-back thing?

It’s all just a delay
To getting things done
A diversion sign at the roundabout
A dead black fly in your Chardonnay;
A rocket flight to the Moon
Via the heart of the Sun
The worst choices you take
Without a doubt

But, when all the queuing is
Behind you
And your turn is next
Then it’s time for fun
Time to sing and shout

The Moral of this tale:
Don’t be vexed;
You’ll soon be