Clarinet Lesson

Walking home

After my clarinet lesson

Anticipating supper

Humming the theme

To Coronation Street

I open the door to my first floor flat

A surprise on the stairs

A snake

A hissing, hooded cobra rears

Ready to strike

I reach for my clarinet

Man Goes Into a Pub

I'm waiting for Robb

Nursing a pint

Two men discuss the Arsenal

The conversation goes on for half an hour

And is full of interesting and detailed fact

And conjecture

And opinion

I wonder if Wenger

Might consider

Employing them

In a coaching role maybe

Or as tacticians

Or scouts

Then I think, No

That’s silly

They probably have

Perfectly good jobs

Already

A Poem Is Not Just For Christmas

A poem is not just for Christmas

A poem is for life

It’s for a child, a mum or dad

A husband or a wife

It’s for the changing seasons

For the many, for the few

But this poem is for Christmas

This poem is just for you

I Am the Song of Winter

I am the beard of icicles

That hangs beneath the eaves

I am the rock-hard mud

The frosty crunch of frozen leaves

I am the chilly wind that searches out

The cracks around the door

I am the wet scarf on the radiator

The puddle on the floor

I am the bustling of the birds

The seeds thrown in the snow

I’m the blue tit on the bacon rind

The patience of the crow

I am trees drawn with a fine black nib

Against a troubled sky

I am a pensioner. All alone

As another day creeps by

I’m the awesome silence

When the final snowflake’s fallen

I am the halo round the moon

The dark the day has stolen

Yes, I’m the gloomy afternoon

The leeching of the light

I am the growling, howling song

The wind sings in the night

Sometimes I’m hot buttered toast

As the snowstorm roars outside

But sometimes I’m untimely death

And the feeling hope has died

Fairyland

The hundredth anniversary. Disney

lures the children to the rink

in their satin pinks and creams. Buy an angel

on a stick. Mickey Mouse inflatables

only a tenner. Parents trudging

from the car park. Bambi lying dead beneath

the Christmas crowds. Dreams packaged in silver stars.

You see, it’s not the traffic that is far too loud

for hollow carols. You can’t blame the band.

It’s just the eerie silence of deserted fairyland.

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What Grandad Did Next

After he’d battled the baddies

Vanquished the knights

And dealt with the dragons

Grandad decided to have a snooze

In the garden

So he fetched the sun lounger from the shed

And set it up

Under the cherry tree

In a patch of shade

He took his shoes and socks off

Lay down

And closed his eyes

But he couldn’t sleep.

He was comfy enough.

The birds were tweeting in the trees

Which was very pleasant.

And he wasn’t too hot.

And he wasn’t too cold.

He was just right.

But something was nagging at him.

A tiny thought in his head.

It was saying, You can’t snooze yet!

There’s something you’ve forgotten.

Something important.

Grandad tried to think what it was.

He’d locked the car door.

Yes, of course he had.

He’d given Granny a kiss

Before she set off for the shops.

Of course he had.

He had put his screwdriver and screws away

After he’d fixed the shelf.

Of course he had.

Granny got cross

If he left his tools lying about.

And he’d changed the light bulb in the bathroom.

So what had he forgotten?

Then he remembered.

Of course!

Grandad sighed.

He put his shoes and socks back on.

He got up from his sun lounger.

And he whistled for his horse.

Then he called for his special assistant, Sammy.

What had he forgotten?

To rescue the maiden in the tower of course.

Come on, Sammy, he said,

Let’s go!