Rubbish Poem #19

It’s been a little while since my last Rubbish Poem, over two months actually, so I thought it time for another. I know, and I agree with you when you exclaim, “It took you two months to write this?!” Two baseball’s and one bobble Crown the heads of the Hi-Vis trio, Warming these barons of…

The One

A little poem I began writing last night and finished this morning. It’s a little bleak but was inspired by one of Ilkley Literature Festival’s writing prompts, “Write A Poem About The Last Person On Earth”, and, with what we’re all currently experiencing, the poem came quite easy. I pen these final lines For who?…

A Rubbish Poem #18

A wet grey morn comes dawnin’, Dawn, dawnin’, On the scene. Those Hi-Viz boys come rollin’, Roll, rollin’ Down the street. Their steel-toes tappin’, Tap, tappin’ On black-soled booted feet. An’ they’re all yappin’, Yap, yappin’, With any folks they meet. Here She now comes a-roarin’, Roar, roarin’, Into view. Man, you best be praisin’,…

A Rubbish Poem #17

The clash of cans And thrum of tins Sound a descant above the Repeated caterwaul As The Beast backs shrilly up.   Amid chimes of shattered glass, Chorussing clatters and clunks And crashing clangs, The Hi-Viz march their tune On percussive, booted feet.   With raucous riot and rumbling roar, The Beast feeds, mewling her…

Rubbish Poem #16

Oh, but you were So sneaky, On this drab, Cold Tuesday morn, When you came Softly creeping Through the Steel grey Light of dawn.   Where was the March of boots? The thump of your Stamping feet? Instead you Hi-Viz boys Slipped quietly, Wraith-like, Along our Sleeping street.   With voices strangely muted, Your words…

Little Fridge Light

*i know that today is a Tuesday and you are all hankering after my latest “Rubbish Poem”, but this little poem is demanding to be told and is simply too important to be missed. And, as is the case with all the really good stuff you like, this poem is “based on true events”.* Oh,…

A Quiet Spring

**Shortly after the country went into “Lockdown”, Ilkley Literature Festival put up some writing prompts on their website and the inspiration for Week 2 was “A Quiet Spring”. I took a slightly different tack to some of the others that were sent.     Newlywed, devoid of means, They pine, like sex-starved, Love-struck teens, At…

Sunday Poem #02

*Written on my iPhone this morning while still in bed. Intended to fit into one single Tweet, the inspiration for this poem should, hopefully, be clear.   Sunday morn Bedside clock shows OhEightThreeFour Frenzied banging at the door You wake and rise to see A man and van from DPD Insisting you come quick For he…

“A Lame Joke”

Two guys and their pet gorilla walked into a bar. A week or so back, I had the above line pop into my head. At least, it was a version of that early line; I have since tweaked it once or twice to get it just right. Just right for what? Good question. At the…

“Can I Give My Husband Back?” by Kristen Bailey

I am delighted to be one of the stops on the Bookouture “Books On Tour” route for the latest release by Kristen Bailey. I was kindly granted a digital copy of “Can I Give My Husband Back?” via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Which is what you will find following a brief bio…

Rubbish Poem #15

“The Triptych” She came once more today. Three Hi-Viz escorts by her side. A trio, A threesome, A triptych Of orange-clad young men.   Atop The Beast One guides Her, coaxing and soothing. Two on foot. Who walk beside As She gorges And feasts.   The duo fill Her Seven fearsome mouths with Mounds of…

Gone Eight In The Evening.

We went walking out last Thursday, It was gone eight in the eve. Just me and myself and my young mutt, Who was quite glad to weave All along the sidewalks, Her shiny nose pressed to the floor. As we hit 3k, she turned and barked, “Come on, dad. Let’s walk some more!” We pressed…