When Skies Were Orange

Once in a long time ago
The skies were orange
Erupting volcanoes threw up
Small islands
into the dark sea
and the air was carbon dioxide and nitrogen

Once in a long time to come
The earth will fry
Or come to some other violent end

Right now I’m thinking
We are but tiny and brief
bursts of light.
And I watch you sleep
Naked beside me
In the hot night
Your back pain momentarily forgotten
And I listen to the seagulls
That interrupt my thoughts
And my mind swings to and fro

I Must Not Shoot Water at Mr Walton

I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water from my Titan Mk2 Water Cannon
at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water from my Titan Mk2 Water Cannon
at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water from my really powerful Titan Mk2 Water Cannon
at Mr Walton
I am sorry I made you sopping wet, Mr Walton
I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
And the blast of water knocked you off your feet
and carried you half way across the playground, Mr Walton
I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
I must not shoot water at Mr Walton
That gun sure delivers a mean jet of water doesn’t it?
Wow!!! It was fantastic. It was brilliant.
But I am sorry you got wet, Mr Walton.
Really sorry.
And I’m really sorry I’m in detention writing lines
When I could be out in the playground
shooting my Titan Mk2 Water Cannon
Mr Walton – don’t mess
with the Titan Mk2 Water Cannon!!!

Dream

I sometimes dream of battles
The clash of steel on steel
And explosions
And I wake in the dark
To the angry voice
Of dad
The bashing and knocking
And clumping and swearing
And I pull the duvet over my head
And imagine a thunderstone
Rolling across the sky
Spitting sparks
And sloughing dragons
Whose wings
Crash against my window
With the hail and rain
But the wind
Gradually moves the thunderstone out to sea
And the air clears
And the dawn sun eases himself sulkily
Above the horizon
To the empty sky
And I fall back into a dream
Of peace

Metaphor Poem

He is a broken sofa
A bent branch of broom
He is a tune heard faintly in the early afternoon
A sprint, slowing, ragged for the Gatwick Express
A yellow plastic drawer
A visit to the soothsayer, dressed to impress
He is an ancient arrow head, caked with dried mud
He is words, chosen for their own sake
Lightly written in anything but blood
He is a zero, a mean nothing
A slight ache in the right wrist
A twinge after supper
Heavy eyelids
A grass snake on the edge of a dream
A distracted kiss
A mined seam

Secret World

You need a passport
To visit my secret world
Which you send for on the internet
Or you can get special permission
To make your own
As long as they stamp it
With their special gold stamp
Most people fly there
In a Boeing 999
But you can walk
If you know the secret way
I stumbled upon it walking Kenny
There was a gap
Where bits of the world
Don’t quite join up
Like that shirt my mum made
And Kenny found it
Looking for a rabbit and I followed him
The weather?
Very hot and sunny all the time.
Although I went in winter once
And it rained non-stop
When I got home
I told Mum I’d fallen in the pond
What’s it called?
Its name is secret.
No one knows it.
I could take you there if you like.
To my World Without a Name
If you take me to your other world
And make me laugh

Shouting at the Ocean

There’s no point shouting at the ocean
When you’re feeling low
The tide will still come in
It doesn’t want to know

It’s no good shouting at the ocean
Just because it’s there
You can yell, throw stones or kick the sand
The ocean doesn’t care

There’s no use railing at the ocean
If you’re angry or upset
The sea won’t even notice
It’s too busy being wet

For the sea has no emotion
It doesn’t hear you shout
It only listens to the moon
It just comes in and out

So if you’re hurt, upset or angry
Write down all you want to say
Then post it in the ocean
And watch your troubles float away