Searching For Blue Sea Glass

Clarinet Lesson

2011-12-30T18:17:00.001Z

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

2011-12-26T01:15:00.001Z

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

2011-12-25T01:00:00.001Z

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

2011-12-22T18:05:00.001Z

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

2011-12-19T17:59:00.000Z

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

2011-12-03T12:55:00.001Z

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!

Glass Tunnel

2011-11-28T12:54:00.002Z

In the Sea Life Centre

Is a tunnel of glass

And you can pass beneath shoals

Of silver fish and rays

And sharks

And Harry notes their names

In his book

Kettlefish

Ironfish

Lupinfish

Stinkfootfish

Teacherfish

Hometimefish

Busfish

Bedfish

And Dreamfish

Paradise Ahead

2011-11-05T15:35:00.000Z

When I was young

I asked a girl on the bus

Where will you be getting off?

Paradise, she said. But first

I've got to go to Tesco’s

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Water in the Well – a Villanelle

2011-08-09T20:35:00.002+01:00

A chance encounter with a Texan Belle

Leads to lunch - the café at the zoo.
You wonder if there’s water in the well.

Do crocodiles get tired? How does one tell?
You wonder what the meat is as you chew.

Most poets write at least one villanelle.

She takes you to the desert. And it’s hell.

Your dry cough’s captured by a camera crew.
You wonder if there’s water in the well.

Back home your life’s a cracked, unpolished shell.

Your Texan babe has left. What does one do?

Most poets write at least one villanelle.

Betrayal. Loss. And loneliness. That sells.

An empty sheet of paper. Start anew.

You wonder if there’s water in the well.

Most poets write at least one villanelle.

Not a Poem About a Fish

2011-07-25T00:28:00.003+01:00

A dark red leaf

Falls on my orange shirt

And is blown

Down to the dried-out lawn

There, many dark red leaves

Are snagged by the spiky grass and thistle

A winged insect

Teases pollen from a clover flower

And an ant

Whizzes across the cracks and chasms

Of its giant landscape

And, as often happens,

I am distracted from the poem

That I am trying to compose.

A poem about a fish

The Truth

2011-07-20T15:26:00.001+01:00

To be honest

I’m happy to be part

Of the lesser design of things

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2011-07-19T11:21:00.000+01:00

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Plum Tree

2011-07-14T00:23:00.000+01:00

A photo of the tree

Would certainly save this description

A thousand words – at least.

No need to write cherry plum

Or dark red leaves

Or discuss the depth of shadow

In the French afternoon

A film of the tree would say more, of course.

How its leaves shake and shiver and hiss and rustle

In the blustery wind

But only words will find the thousand tiny plums

Hidden in the dark red foliage

And only words can tell you about its relationships:

To the lawn, the house, the stables

To the bugs and birds who live in it

Or visit it

To people, like myself, who sit beneath its shade

Or contemplate its past, or present, or future.

Who use it, maybe, as the inspiration

For a story. Or a poem such as this.

And words can suggest it role

As a handy backdrop for tales of love, or lust, or loss

How, long ago, a young woman,

On a night lit by stars,

Wearing a white nightdress,

Ran beneath the tree’s branches

Like a ghost

And into my young arms.

Schroedinger’s Coffee

2011-07-08T15:23:00.000+01:00

Here’s your coffee, love

Said Shroedinger’s mum

He wondered if it was sugared

And decided that

Until he tasted it

It was neither sugared

Nor un-sugared

Parc Botanique, Tours.

2011-06-27T00:38:00.000+01:00

April 2011

The bear pit is empty

Giant slabs of cracked concrete

Litter and weeds

The wallabies say,

Good day, mate.

Good to hear the mother tongue again

I ask the emu,

Sitting on his own, in the wallaby enclosure,

Feathers all shabby and grey,

Don’t you have any friends?

No mate, he says

Only these bloody wallabies

Thirty Five Minute Poem

2011-06-20T00:29:00.001+01:00

Thirty five minutes ago

The alarm clock woke me

It was cold

I put on a tee shirt

Went downstairs, made a coffee

Peered through the blind

It was still dark

Half dreams, thoughts, drifting fragments

I watch the clock

It’s five to

I have to get up at eight

The window-fitters arrive at half past

Thirty five minutes to go

The phrase passes by again

And I wonder if there’s a poem there

Probably not

A Tough One

2011-06-13T00:26:00.000+01:00

So, you think you’re hard

Said the tortoise

To the rock

The rock

Kept

Its own counsel

Reflection

2011-06-09T00:24:00.001+01:00

As the ball

Hit the bat

The bat

Reflected upon

Its defective

Sonar

New Look

2011-06-06T00:23:00.000+01:00

I have a new eye

Through which you look

As beautiful a being

As I ever beheld

Missing Poem

2011-05-30T00:21:00.001+01:00

This poem is missing

This isn’t actually the poem

This is just something

Written in the space

That the poem would have been in

Were it not missing

If you find the missing poem

Please return it

To its rightful place

Right here

And then I can go home

Thank you

Castle

2011-05-23T00:19:00.000+01:00

Every day Sam (two and a half)

Walks past the building site

Granny asks, What are the builders building?

Sam says, Castle.

And, as the scaffolding rises higher

And indeed
It turns out

To be a castle.

And who will live there, Granny asks

Knights and dragons

And indeed, it turns out

That they do

Thanks a Bunch

2011-05-19T00:18:00.001+01:00

I wondered, worried, on the train

About my debts and how to pay my bills

When all at once, as the train slowed down

I saw a bank
Of lovely daffodils

Seeker

2011-05-16T00:16:00.000+01:00

Where are you?

In the dark

What are you doing?

Waiting

What are you waiting for?

The usual.

Is it night where you are?

Are you below ground?

In space then?

We are all in space.

You’re in a room?

Yes

Is there a light switch?

Yes

Then turn the light on

It’s broken

Are you alone?

I think so.

Progress

2011-05-15T21:26:00.000+01:00

Monkees to Gorillaz

Steam to atomic

Hot air to propellers

To jet (supersonic)

News with real news in

To rolling news updates

A shock-horror diet

Best be quick on the uptake

Email and texting

From pigeon and letter

Dark ages, e-pages

Things can only get better

View from Café Window

2011-05-09T00:13:00.003+01:00

Black-clad police force

On Canterbury’s main drag

Touting for business

Brass

2011-05-04T00:09:00.000+01:00

I filled the three brass cylinders

Each the length of a hand

With wet mud

And left them overnight

When I emptied them

The next morning

Bizarre creatures

Had hatched in the mud

A black bug, half spider – half nasty

With thin, stingy bits

Squeezed itself from the tube

A coil of wet mud

Became a short, fat snake

Or maybe it was a worm

The dream is already fading

The Hotel Blues Again

2011-04-28T00:11:00.001+01:00

It’s clear

I am here

Where you are not

And I have got

The Hotel Blues Again

I watch distracted

Hand with pen

Write these words down

I’m in a foreign town

The Hotel Blues Again

The room is fine

The pictures on the wall do not offend

It’s clean, uncluttered

The bed is comfy and the wine

Has travelled relatively well

To dull and spark my brain in turns, I’ve got

The Hotel Blues Again

I phone you

And we chat. The train was late.

And I got wet in unexpected rain

The meal was Thai (red curry – hot)

And it’s not just being here alone

Upon a rock that’s doomed in time and space

In truth I can’t explain
The how or why I've got

The Hotel Blues Again

When Did That Happen?

2011-04-25T00:07:00.000+01:00

I’m reading about a parallel universe

When I notice

That the train

Is travelling in the opposite direction

It must have changed direction
While I was in the loo

Coming Home on the North Downs Line

2011-04-21T00:05:00.000+01:00

From the Great Western main line

Cross country in a grubby train

From Reading 4B

A smudgy pencil of a platform

Crossing stockbroken hinterlands

Of pre-fab housing and forsaken warehouses

We shadow the chalk ridge of the Downs

Wokingham

Blackwater North Camp

Trees seem barely able to summon up the energy to bud

Allotments, a glass-less greenhouse

Bungalows and council houses

And an English flag

Ash

Guildford

A tunnel

To the North the Hogs’ back

Scrubby fields

We amble through Chilworth

In the window reflections

A woman in a headscarf

Tucked in to a Brendan Behan polemic

A woman in a pale mac

Leather bag on her lap like a small dog

Engrossed in daily dreams

Dorking Deepdene

Rusty rails

And what do the three horses

Make of us shuffling past

As the cold night approaches?

Ryegate

Redhill

At last Gatwick

On the Brighton main line

Keepsake

2011-04-18T00:03:00.001+01:00

Where can I hide my heart

Those hot and secret feelings?

In a forest of well-loved trees?

In a book of scrawled-upon leaves?

In an abandoned tin in the biscuit cupboard

Where the golden light

Won’t escape the on-tight lid?

Maybe I won’t hide it

Wear it on my sleeve

In the time-honoured

Or attach it to my hat

With an ostentatious silver pin

I’ll keep it in the kitchen drawer

With the out-of-date seeds, the too-short pieces of string

And the plastic bit of something that may be important one day

Yes, I’ll keep it there

Next to yours

Happy

2011-04-14T11:03:00.002+01:00

I’m waiting

On the steps for Jill

A young woman

Crosses the road

Gazing at her mobile phone

A big happy grin

Valentine

2011-02-14T18:36:00.002Z

As sure as summer

Follows spring

As sure as a pebble

Flies from a sling

As swallows mate

Upon the wing

As Bob and Dorothy

Follow Bing

As Elvis Presley

Was the King

As a ready microwave

Goes ping

As your morning smile

Makes my heart go zing

You dazzle me

Like a rapper’s bling

Because you’re my Valentine

And that’s the thing

A Million Tons of Junk

2011-01-17T14:13:00.000Z

Look at all that stuff!

Without electricity

It’s nothing but

A million tons of junk

Like me without you

But when you flip my switch

I am cathode rays
Neon signs
Humming radios

Radar blips

Torch lights

City lights

Satellites

The cries and shouts

And wails and hurrahs

Of Fender guitars

Of bands in bars

I am transformed

Capacitated

Transcended

By your loving

Electricity

In Good Shape

2011-01-11T07:22:00.001Z

I Circle you

Like picnic bears

And cuddle you

All night

Triangle you

(Each corner

A space filled

With delight)

I Oblong you

My obligation’s

Elongate and sure

I Square you

To my conscience

And consciousness

And more

I Diamond you

You’re priceless

Your Star shape

Cannot fall

You’re my sweet

And sexy Hexy shape

But I Heart you

Most of all

You’ll Be Here

2011-01-05T17:20:00.000Z

When the ice is as thick

as an ice-maiden’s shtick

and the sky is as grey

as Sam Beckett’s lost playand
the wind is as keen

as a miser is mean

and the winter’s as deep

as philosopher’s sleep,

you’ll be here for the ride

with a smile as wide and as warm

as a schoolgirls’ dorm

with a cuddle as close

as warm, buttered toast,

with a laugh as out loud

as a sky without cloud,

with a love as intense

as the sky is immense:

you’ll be here by my side

The Worst Christmas

2010-12-21T07:00:00.001Z

The worst Christmas

Was when Mum was in hospital

And Dad, bless him,

Made a right pig’s ear

Of the Christmas turkey.

On Christmas Eve he dressed up as Santa

Red coat, big bushy beard -

And Mum dressed up as a reindeer

Big antlers, red nose -

And it was all going so well

I was pretending to be asleep

As Dad crept in, when

Shriek!

Clatter clatter clatter

Thump!

Mum fell off the roof.

All We Do at Christmas

2010-12-16T15:06:00.000Z

All we do at Christmas

Is sit and watch TV

Mum and Dad and Sis and Gran

And Grandpapa and me

My best mate Bill, and all his lot

Play Christmas games and cards

Have quizzes and win prizes

Dress up and play charades

And Jenny’s family go to church

They’re Christians and they believe

She stays up late and goes to church

At midnight, Christmas Eve

And Jason, who’s a Muslim

And Margie, who’s a Jew

Still think about what Christmas means

But take a wider view

But we don’t do much thinking

We just sit and watch TV

There’s Mum and Dad and Sis and Gran

And Grandpapa and me

Seven Stars

2010-12-13T22:01:00.002Z

Seven stars are shining
As the sun falls from the sky
Six rooks dance their goodnight dance
And wish the day goodbye

Five bats skim the castle walls
Waiting for the bell
For soon the moon will break the news
It’s waited long to tell

Four owls leave the tower tall
Hungry to spread the word
To wit, to woo a mouse or two
In case you haven’t heard

Three horses in the courtyard
Beneath the flickering light
Two men exchange quiet glances
And ride into the night

And deep within the castle
In the centre of the keep
One maiden lies alone, alone
And tries to get to sleep

No Star Hotel

2010-12-06T12:34:00.002Z

Never stay at the Heartbreak Hotel
Try the Travel Inn on the corner
If you stay at the Inn of Loneliness
Both the staff and the guests will ignore yah
For a weekend break that’s a bad mistake
Don’t say I didn’t warn yah
You’ll be so lonely you will cry

Likewise the Hotel California

Night Rainbow

2010-11-26T17:03:00.000Z

Look at the colour
Of the colour
Of the colour

You said, in middle of the night

And woke up
And stumbled to the bathroom

Woken
By a rainbow

Uncle John and Auntie Clare

2010-11-19T17:02:00.001Z

Uncle John
Is big and red and very, very loud
He argues with Mum a lot
About who should be running the country
He sells cars
He drove us at 100mph once

Auntie Clare
Is nervous
She sips tea like a hamster
And she says,
That’s enough, John!
And then Uncle John
Is very, very
Quiet

Giving

2010-11-15T17:01:00.001Z

Ed gave me his birthday badge
I gave Ed my moon rock
Ed gave me his juicy peach
I gave Ed my sock

Ed gave me his hamsters
Jimmy, Digs and Jack
Mum found them in my bedroom
And I had to give them back

Mum made Ed give my sock back
So I returned his peach
And Ed returned my moon rock
(I’d found it on the beach)

I returned Ed’s birthday badge
And Mum said, Good. That’s that.
She went downstairs to the kitchen
And I gave Ed our cat

Credit Crunch

2010-11-11T17:00:00.001Z

Once
She melted his heart
Now
She freezes his assets

Not Billy Collins

2010-11-08T16:59:00.001Z

It is a tea pot
Not a saucepan on the gas ring
Bubbling and filling the kitchen
With a comforting steam

It is not the door
Waiting for the cook's entrance
And through which
Can be faintly heard
Chris Barber’s Cat Call

Nor is it the window
Where the sun and the moon
May be observed
Taking it in turns
To archly cross the sky

Nor is it the telescope
That stands in the hall
Its barrel dusty
And marked with the prints
Of children’s fingers
Like putty moons

Nor is it the garden path
Awaiting the careful tread
Of the poet Billy Collins

No, it is not Billy Collins
It is a tea pot

Snake Propulsion

2010-11-04T16:57:00.002Z

My mind
Is catapulted
From the ancient pool
To the waiting waterfall
By the stripy elasticated belt
With the snake buckle

Present

2010-11-02T16:57:00.002Z

Remember
When Mickey, our mouse,
Brought us a little
Present
And left it on the doorstep?

A dead cat

The Perk of Being Mrs Wickins’ Cat

2010-10-12T19:38:00.000+01:00

There’s milk and strokes
and somewhere warm
to sleep and scratch and think,
but the perk of being
Mrs Wickins’ cat
is the spider in the sink

The spider’s looking scary
and kicking up a stink.
Fetch Mrs Wickens. She’ll soon catch
the spider in the sink

Yes, I’m great at catching spiders,
my claw is lightning fast
I eat the legs one at a time
and save the head for last

There’s milk and strokes
and somewhere warm
to sleep and scratch and think,
but the perk of being
Mrs Wickins’ cat
is the spider in the sink

Corrections

2010-09-22T20:11:00.000+01:00

Teacher said,
Leave out the the,
two too's one too too many
and and after the comma
should go after the any.

The the, the too -
and move the and
and that should make it flow.
Not that that, that that's fine -
but this that, that could go.

I said,
The the, the too, the and -
I would agree with you.
But I'm very fond of that -
this that and that that too.

Which that is that?
Is that this that?
Asked teacher with a grin.
Okay - but take that last in out
And leave that last out in.

Jack and Jill

2010-08-26T10:25:00.000+01:00

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after

Up Jack got and home did trot
As fast as he could caper
He went to bed to mend his head
With vinegar and brown paper

Jill was found still on the ground
By her Uncle Charlie
He took her back home to his shack
And fed her eggs and barley

It came to nought, said Jill, distraught
Oh why did my legs falter?
Said Charlie – Oh, did you not know
A tap turns on the water?

Meanwhile poor Jack (still on his back)
Was feeling proper poorly.
Said Doctor Green, Why, Germolene
Would work much better, surely?

Alas, alack, now poor old Jack
To death was soon succumbing
Jill said, said she, If only we
Had known about the plumbing

4am

2010-08-23T10:24:00.000+01:00

Somewhere a dog barks

As you gaze from the dark painting
Chin resting on your hand
Your own dog
Waits patiently

Wasp

2010-08-20T10:23:00.000+01:00

A wasp finds itself
Trapped inside my shirt
Escapes without harm

3am

2010-08-17T10:22:00.000+01:00

And the house is sleeping fitfully

The pine table and chairs in slumber deep
The bed cannot settle
And the dark corners are restless
The oak beams dream woody adventures from before our time
And a thin-limbed spider puzzles over the nature of porcelain

The clock
Whose tick-tocking is at odds
Tries to keep up

But we are not asleep
You have a finger down your throat
Bringing up the angel
Whose horse you feel is the culprit

And light
Unusually awakened
Stares, as if finding itself in a strange room for the first time
Momentarily bewildered
Its small buzzy followers summoned
to share an unexpected feast

Two Birds at Stone

2010-08-14T10:19:00.000+01:00

A fist of white touffeau rock
Falls on the red tiles

Two small, black birds
Dart across the cliff face
Hunting for insects
And singing

Craic
Craic
Craic

Monday's Child

2010-08-09T10:18:00.000+01:00

Monday’s child selects
From her white wardrobe
A blue dress

Tuesday’s child dances
Across the playground
Heads the ball

Wednesday’s child worries
Three more days of maths
And counting

Thursday’s child decides
Her map of the world’s
Incomplete

Friday’s child donates
His Lego to the
Flood Appeal

Saturday’s child rises
Early for the best
Market place

Sunday’s child chases
The shadows of clouds
On the grass

Teacher, Teacher

2010-07-15T21:32:00.000+01:00

Teacher, Teacher,
Millicent Witt
Has hidden the hamster
In her P.E. kit

Teacher, Teacher,
Jeremy Pear
Has hidden Beth’s socks
And he won’t tell her where

Teacher, Teacher,
Alasdair Tup
Says these rhymes are contrived
And the names are made up

Low Flying Rabbits Ahead

2010-07-09T00:12:00.001+01:00

Watch out for obstreperous elephants
Or fidgety fleas in your bed
There’s a bear on your chair – don’t stare! Beware
Low flying rabbits ahead

Be warned! Argumentative aardvarks
And the tigers haven’t been fed
When in doubt you must shout, There be dragons – watch out!
Low flying rabbits ahead

Caution – cantankerous catfish
There’s a dodo called Fred in the shed
And the mad fortune teller says, Take your umbrella
Low flying rabbits ahead

Be prepared for the lemur’s cruel laughter
But don’t forget what the old tortoise said
Life is fun. When in doubt – don’t worry about
Those low flying rabbits ahead

Harbinger

2010-06-16T14:09:00.001+01:00

Twilight deepens
In the graveyard
And the first cicadas sing

Moth’s quick shadow
On the gravestone
Human skull between its wings

The moth’s soft touch
Against your cheekbone
Fear is such a fragile thing

The harbinger
Glimpsed by moonlight
Human skull between its wings

Price List

2010-06-14T22:27:00.000+01:00

For fun verse,
Shrieks and hollers
$20

For lyrical flights
That know no bounds
£20

For passionate prose
At Uncle Joe’s
20eu

For light verse and nonsense
That’s less intense
20p

Write a poem
With me
Free

After Words

2010-06-08T20:53:00.001+01:00

When the nurse said
You may cry
bloodstained tears

My first thought was
how to fit
those two words

into a poem

Cataract

2010-06-04T12:23:00.001+01:00

A simple operation
As operations go
We make a tiny cut
Remove your cataracted lens
Slip in a new one

I am nervous. Several
trips to the loo. I’m cold
Eye drops dilate the eye
My pupil is a big, black yolk
I’m watching the clock

A porter takes me upstairs
A hot June day. The view –
Beyond white roofs, the sea
I’m on the table. Don’t cross your legs
The nurse chides gently

Drops anaesthetise my eye
A ring holds my eyelid
An injection numbs
Some things a patient rarely sees
His own procedure

I’m wired up. Peeps and hums
People bustle about
My face is covered
Lights dance before my blurred vision
I’m holding my breath

Breath evenly! And do not move,
It makes my job harder,
The surgeon says. Half way.
I concentrate on keeping still
Time crawls through shadows

A nurse holds my hand
A human connection
In that bright place of knives and chrome
It’s done, the surgeon says, It was tricky
I’m wheeled away

I’m back with Jill. The nurse
Brings us tea and toast
Instructions – keep your eye patch
on tonight. Four weeks of drops
Going home. Sunshine

Back Seat Driver

2010-05-07T21:59:00.000+01:00

A life moves relentlessly
From frame to frame
I watch it from the back row
In the dark

The detective
Knows who the villains are
All he has to do is catch them

Soon a few loose ends
May or may not get tied up
Someone will make a witty comment
And the credits will roll

Then maybe I’ll watch the prequel
Or stumble out into the cold
Streets of reality

Maybe I’ll book a ticket
Stroll along a crowded beach
My sun hat at a jaunty angle

But I’m tired
And even though these seats are uncomfortable
I’m going to have a snooze

Wake me up when it’s all over

Pizza Express

2010-05-03T21:57:00.000+01:00

Yes, another poem
In the Pizza Express series

Tuesday, eight o’clock
Newmarket High Street

It’s as quiet as the moon
I sip a large red wine and wait

The Sloppy Joe
Doesn’t want to show

They should rename it
Stroppy Joe

The Ernst Exhibition

2010-04-30T21:55:00.000+01:00

Amidst the strange writing
And the astronomy
A woman lies
On the polished wooden floor
Of the gallery

This is not an artistic statement
She is ill
As I write this she may even
Be dead

The large gathering who,
Until a few minutes ago,
Were listening to the guide
Is confused

But most take the opportunity
To quietly view
The Ernst exhibits

Painterly backgrounds
With tiny letters
Sense or nonsense?
It’s too early to tell

Scarecrow Festival

2010-04-27T21:51:00.001+01:00

Something unsettling
All those raggedy people
With glass eyes
And straw poking out of pockets

And as we left
We noticed
The crows
Hanging around on the street corner

Time Travel

2010-04-18T20:50:00.000+01:00

They say we have no free will
Before we make a move
Before we think a thought
Our brains warm up the neurons
Prepare the muscles
Ready for the brain’s command.
Lifting a cup of tea.
Moving the blinds to glimpse the sunset
As though these small actions
Were pre-programmed
Like a film, perhaps.

Maybe our brains,
When we decide our unique and individual thoughts,
Simply slip back in time
To ready our bodies
For the deed.

Slip back in time.
A few moments.
That’s all it takes.

Crow Thinking

2010-04-15T20:47:00.000+01:00

Crow sits
On the March branch
Beside the black scribble
Of last year’s nest
Thinking… well what?
Can a crow think?

So, can a crow have thoughts?
Don’t ask me.
Ask a crow scientist.
Or you could try
Googling it.

Overheard on Train

2010-04-12T20:46:00.000+01:00

Listen – I don’t know how I’ll get through this week. Amy said she’d design the tee shirts for my birthday and they’re not done yet and it’s Thursday and I texted her, not in a horrible way, to say hurry up and I wasn’t being funny but it’s two days away and that’s reality and I seriously think Amy has a problem and I’m stressed out this week ‘cos of my birthday and my final assessment and all and Amy promised and it doesn’t help the fact that I've been ill and pushing myself beyond my limits and you know I’m not someone who usually gets stressed out but Amy has a problem and it’s my birthday and anyway I've just ruled out today and that’s that, okay? How are you?

Are You Famous?

2010-04-09T20:45:00.001+01:00

(a question that children often ask me in schools)

On a scale of one to Michael Rosen
I am probably a seven
On a scale of soft to very loud
I am probably eleven
On a scale of one to Einstein
I’m probably one and a half
On a scale of groan to hysteria
I’m probably a laugh
On a scale of one to infinity
I’m a meagre sixty one
On a scale of A to Z
I hover at F for Fun
On a scale of amoeba to gorilla
I’m sitting on top of the tree
On the scale of now till the end of time
I’ll soon be history

Eye Hospital Waiting Room

2010-04-06T20:42:00.000+01:00

She sits and stares

Dilated eyes

Waiting for the doctor

Straight grey hair

Eastern European accent

She sighs

Society is different now, she says

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong

Cup of tea? The nurse asks

Are my eyes dilated?

Yes they are.

Are they beautiful?

Sneeze on a Monday

2010-03-31T12:06:00.000+01:00

If you sneeze on a Monday, there'll be sunny weather
Sneeze on a Tuesday, all friends together
Sneeze on a Wednesday, sneeze for a letter
Sneeze on a Thursday, get something better
Sneeze on a Friday, a visit from Bert
Sneeze on a Saturday, it's gone all down your shirt
Sneeze on a Sunday...
Bless you!

Written with and illustrated by Michael Leigh

Weather Lore

2010-03-27T11:59:00.001Z

Red sky in the morning

Yardbirds are yawning

Red sky at night

The racoons will take flight

A sunshiny shower

Will last half a flannel

If it's raining cats and dogs

Hide under a camel

Written with Michael Leigh. Illustrated by Michael Leigh

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat

2010-03-24T11:48:00.002Z

Pussy cat, pussy cat

Where have you been?

I've been up to London

To visit the Queen

Pussy cat, pussy cat

What did you there?

Actually I was there on behalf of The Cat Can Look At a Queen Society - discussing ways to get a little more recognition for the pivotal role cats have played in traditional stories and poems.

Written with and illustrated by Michael Leigh

There Was An Old Woman

2010-03-20T11:37:00.000Z

There was an old woman
Who lived in a canoe

She paddled all day
Till her hands turned blue
And all of her children
On the river bank
Laughed and laughed
When her little boat sank
Don't worry, they said,
That you've sunk your canoe
We've had a whip round
And bought you a shoe

Written with Michael Leigh
Illustrated by Michael Leigh

The Owl and the Pussycat

2010-03-17T11:22:00.004Z

The owl and the pussycat

Went to sea

The owl ate the pussycat

Oh deary me

Written with Michael Leigh
Illustration by Michael Leigh

Dance, Dance

2010-03-14T11:12:00.002Z

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dark Settee
And I'll bounce on you
And you can bounce on me
And we'll both sit down
And watch TV

Poem written with Michael Leigh
Illustrated by Michael Leigh

Making a Poem for Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T22:31:00.000Z

If you say
something
and make it rhyme
that’s
not
necessarily
a poem,
okay?

But
a kiss
always
is

Horror Poem

2010-02-11T17:25:00.003Z

I like...
digging out the eyes
of...
potatoes
I like...
pushing the knife
into the...
cutlery drawer
I like...
twisting the legs
off a...
broken chair
I like...
wringing the neck
of a...
kitten

Catherine, Eloise

2010-02-01T22:27:00.003Z

(A poem I wrote and sent to a friend of mine for a critique. She made a few changes and helped me get it into shape. It's a good example of the creative process. - RS)

Catherine Eloise

It seems to me you are so awkward, wayward
Ill at ease – even wilful
How can you function, eat, sleep, keep this manor
In the manner that we are accustomed to?
You, who tends the wonderful garden
How are those seeds, those bulbs, those corms
We witnessed pushing upwards, upwards to the light
(But not at night)
How are they coming on?
Those Lupins blue, those Canterbury bells
And the borders which you created
From old wire and bedsteads from the tip
And winkle shells and whelk shells
From the beach
Such happy days watching you and the servants,
The girls from the village,
The gorgeous girls we paid so pitifully
Oh, remember them, each lining up for their threepence
And free bag of gooseberries.

Version 2

Catherine, Eloise

Catherine Eloise (would one name be better? Just Catherine maybe?)
It seems to me you are so awkward, wayward
Ill at ease – even wilful (again simplify – just wilful. How about contrary?) Okay!
How can you function, eat, sleep, keep this manor
In the manner that we are accustomed to? (Don’t like it – leave it out. ) Manner – manor – it’s clever. (No – it’s contrived.)
You, who tends the wonderful garden
How are those seeds, those bulbs, those corms
We witnessed pushing upwards, upwards to the light
(But not at night.)
How are they coming on? (That’s stupid – not at night! Less is more) How about – just keeping how is your garden coming along? (Better!)
Those Lupins blue, those Canterbury bells
And the borders which you created
From old wire and bedsteads from the tip
And winkle shells and whelk shells (winkles and whelks? Bit common – how about cockleshells? ) Yeah – then I can rhyme shells and bells.
From the beach
Such happy days watching you and the servants,
The girls from the village,
The gorgeous girls we paid so pitifully (gorgeous? Bit too sexy – modern. What’s wrong with pretty?)Oh, remember them, each lining up for their threepence
And free bag of gooseberries.
Okay – so how does it sound now?

Version 3

Catherine

Catherine
You are so contrary.
How is your garden coming along?
With cockle shells and Canterbury bells
And pretty girls
Lining up for their threepence
And free bag of gooseberries

Much better.

What about if I called her Mary? To rhyme with contrary?
(Good – and repeat it so that it keeps the rhythm)
(And the word Canterbury is a bit awkward.)How about silver bells?
Which matches pretty. (I like it…)

So we have

Mary Mary
Quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockle shells
And pretty… how about maids? (That’s good)
And pretty maids
Lining up for their threepence and free bag of gooseberries.
Although would she have paid them in gooseberries?
(Probably not.)
Coal then?
(Excellent….)
And pretty maids
Lining up for their free bag of coal.

(That’s it! Well done! It’s a classic!)

Cricket Poem 3

2010-01-08T17:05:00.000Z

I fancy Milly
The captain of the girl’s cricket team.
She’s a real catch.
She bowls me over.
She’s got a wicket smile
That creases me up.
I want to ask her out
But I don’t know how to pitch it.
It’s got me stumped.
She knocks me for six.
My love for her knows no boundaries.

Early Start

2010-01-05T17:04:00.000Z

I left you
In the morning
Sleeping in the gap between
Dreams and waking

The draking place

Freeze Frame

2010-01-02T17:03:00.000Z

A tree
Bereft of leaves
Caught, frozen in position
Running across a field

New Year Oh Six

2009-12-31T16:57:00.000Z

In the grey sky above Vlissengen
A bird floats by
Chased by her own shadow
And the first flakes of snow

On the radio the top two thousand
Ploughs gamely on
And the New Year waits impatiently
On the corner of a scuddy snowy street

The wind is horizontal
Stinging snow and a rock and roll wind
Blows Jill’s brolly apart

The first thunderclaps and sonic booms
Rattle the Dutch rafters and chimneys
And the birds head for the country

Midnight and we raise our glass, whoop
Troop outside to witness the carnage of the old year
And the aerial bombardment begins
Screaming devils and heavy-duty explosives
And Jill says, We were so young when we met
We’re so old now

Cricket Poem 2

2009-12-27T16:44:00.000Z

Riddle in cracker

How can a wicket keeper get you out?
The question

Had me stumped.

Christmas Eve

2009-12-24T16:42:00.000Z

On Christmas Eve
it is so late
that even Mum and Dad
are fast asleep in bed

I stand at the top of the stairs

The house is warm
and the tree lights glow

I can smell mince pies
and anticipation

I make a wish

Pet Name

2009-12-23T16:40:00.000Z

Your pet name for me
Is Elbow

You will often call my name
In my sleep

Walking

2009-12-20T16:38:00.000Z

After midnight
Walking back to our hotel
Orange and brown
Plane leaves
Scattered on the wet pavement
You feel
A rush of happiness

Cricket Poem 1

2009-12-16T16:37:00.000Z

Our captain said, Right! You stand at silly mid off.
I said, Okay. But wouldn’t it be better
If I stood at very silly mid off?
Billy said, Why don’t you stand
At stupid mid off?
Our captain said, No!
Just stand at silly mid off.
I said, Could I stand at ridiculous mid off?
Billy said, Why don’t you stand
At pants mid off.

The umpire, Mr Walton, said,
Just do it – or you’ll be on litter duty.
So I said, Silly mid off it is then.
Billy said, You could stand at…
The umpire, Mr Walton, said,
Billy! That’s enough!

Lines that Held Promise But Fizzled Out

2009-12-14T16:36:00.000Z

If we could synthesise the background hum
At the British Library
We’d… um…

Telepathic Encounter

2009-12-10T16:35:00.000Z

On the tube
I was thinking up a joke
And when I reached the punch line
The young woman beside me
Looked at me and grinned

Five Famous People Spotted in the British Library

2009-12-06T16:33:00.001Z

Man, faded jeans and crumpled white shirt
Invented a code
Enabling computers of different races,
Religions and sexual persuasions
To talk to one another.

Woman, frizzy hair back from forehead
Low-slung scuffed leather bag
Wrote a series of mind-altering essays
On cytotoxic triterpenoids derivatives

Man, blue shirt, head down, muddy shoes
Turned conventional wisdom on its head.
Sells out at philosophical conventions
Obtuse and garrulous
Working on novel about Ba Jin Ba Jin

Man, Marcus Turuk (still wearing name badge
From yesterday’s meeting
With professor Huff and colleagues)
Inventor of over two hundred applications
For polycarboxlate cement

Man, Robbie Williams

Balls

2009-12-02T16:30:00.001Z

I threw you the red ball
You tossed it aside
I threw you the yellow ball
You threw it in the fire
You weren’t in the mood
For imaginary catching

8

2009-11-20T20:14:00.000Z

A pigeon
On a rainy slate roof in July
Composes a haiku

Under Construction 7

2009-11-15T20:13:00.000Z

Do you ever feel sorry for inanimate objects?
The time you poured coffee into the cup with the teabag
And had to throw the teabag away?

Remember giving the last rites
To your favourite shoes?

The toilet roll that fell down the pan?

The hammer taken to Gran’s wardrobe.

The love letter that you found
By the bus stop?

Rupert

2009-11-08T20:11:00.000Z

Today I am
drifting around town
in a small boat
searching for Rupert

Floating along flooded streets
watching the rats
swimming in the evil waters

I am scanning the rooftops
searching for Rupert
Looking for a lad
Stranded on a roof
dressed in red
waving his school bag

I have a ladder in this boat
But have not yet had
The chance to use it

I have rescued seven rats
Who, although very pleased,
Are all crouched nervously
In the stern
Keeping as far from Kenny
As they can

Under Construction 6

2009-11-04T20:08:00.001Z

Don’t let your bits go to sleep
Be careful with your leg draped over the arm of the chair
Or you’ll stand up
And promptly fall over again
Like you did on Tuesday
Knocking the cup of hot chocolate, drinking chocolate
Over the new, cream carpet
And surprising the cat
Who leapt between Mum’s legs
Just as she was carrying the chain saw
From the kitchen into the back room
Dropping it and inadvertently turning it on
And sawing the TV in half

All I’m saying is
Be careful, that’s all.

Under Construction 5

2009-10-27T19:12:00.000Z

Two slow crows
On the dawn road
Fly from the mist
Spreading joy

Green Frogs

2009-10-21T19:08:00.000+01:00

We had green frogs once
They were a very rare kind
We had several thousand
because they kept on breeding
and Dad threatened to flush them down the toilet
so I crept downstairs
at midnight
and let them all go
You may have seen it in the papers
GREEN FROG EPIDEMIC
and they were poisonous
and lots of people died
but the authorities hushed it up

They always hush it up -
the authorities

Under Construction 4

2009-10-18T19:07:00.000+01:00

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t a minute to myself
A minute for watching the birds
A minute to think
A minute to contemplate death
A minute to visit the map shop
A minute to lose myself in the view from the train window
A minute to see how the Su Doku turned out
A minute to wonder what that last crossword clue was all about
A minute that passes to fast or too slowly
A minute to fire up my lap top
A minute to lay a wreath
A minute to finish my drink
A minute to finish these words
Sometimes it feels like I haven’t a minute to myself

Rooks

2009-10-14T19:05:00.000+01:00

Do the thousand roosting rooks
Have to say goodnight
To every member
Of their family
Before they turn in?

Under Construction 3

2009-10-10T19:04:00.000+01:00

It happened on the 8.16 to Victoria
She approached me from behind
Like a gunslinger’s shadow
I glanced up
Saw black, spiky hair
A bag slung casually
Around her long, dark, open overcoat
She reached towards me
She wore a silver ring on her thumb
She had the mark of a professional
But also an individual
And I shivered
As her eyes met mine,
As she clipped
My ticket