A Rubbish Poem #11

On tender toes, along our street, Gentle were their booted feet, So soft and stealthy did they creep. No disturb came to my anxious sleep.   Bright orange tabards, maybe a yellow vest, Couldn’t rouse me from my troubled rest. No shouts or call to arms did I hear As Hi-Viz minions marched ever near….

A Rubbish Poem #10

“Stay Safe” A Rubbish Poem #10   How much longer will you come calling, Crawling down our street, In your bright orange pants and tabards, In your steel-toe cap booted feet?   For The Beast that rides beside you Is not the beast of which we’re all now feared. Stay safe my Hi-Viz heroes In…

Be Kind

Cruel words launched Behind lit screens. In anonymity, you don’t Hear the screams, As the hate and bile You spew in haste Makes others feel They’re just a waste.   Do you not care? Or see? Or know? How each barb and taunt Just drags them low And scars and wounds Their fractured soul. Is…

A Rubbish Poem #09

Darkness dies revealing Drabness in morning’s wake. Undercoat skies grieve, greyly weeping Unsettling drops of hard, cold sorrow.   Dreams wither to shades and Dampen while reality folds her smothering mantle Upon the fading cheers of a new year, Usurping expectations. But, look, there, in the   Distance, hope glows weakly. Down the lane, advances…

A Rubbish Poem #08

My final “Rubbish Poem” of the year. Happy New Year to all. Beware The Beast.   Ohseventhirtythree On the last morn of the Year, The bins out in the streets Packed deep with excess festive Cheer.   It’s cold outside, In here, it’s Warm, Safe inside, ignorant, we Await the coming of the Storm.  …

A Rubbish Poem #07

They’re here, Lights flashing, Hi-Viz loading All the trash in- To the belly of The Beast For her weekly Roadside feast On all the debris Left outside of The houses on Each street. Where in piles stacked So very neat, The Beast Devours each tasty treat Left in cans and Inside jars, And in boxes…

Six Across The Pond

*I wrote this poem towards the end of fourteen days onboard Cunard’s Queen Mary II on a Trans-Atlantic crossing from Southampton to New York and back again. It was a marvellous two weeks and we met some lovely people. People who inspired the following. Don’t fret about just getting there, On hitting all your goals….

A Rubbish Poem #06

Hark! Hear her squawk, hear her screech As The Beast backs down the street. Glowing orange, flash and blink, She chases winter’s night to ground. Marching beside, solemn in their duty, The Hi-Viz Herald her descent.   Hark! Hear her groan, hear her grind As she feasts, gorging on the Offerings roadside left behind. Satiated,…

When Saturday Comes.

I wrote this poem on March 3rd, 2017. It was only two-and-a-half years ago but, with my recent loss of identity with Bradford City, and my love for the club – fast approaching forty years now – it seems a lifetime ago.   When Saturday comes and the sun burns high From up in a…

A Rubbish Poem #05

Day dawns bright, skies on fire, Night retreating on a funeral pyre. A resurgent sun flames new light, Holds firm against the black of night. The cold, the dark, both slip away Revealing in their wake a chill Tuesday.   Emerging now from the dying gloom, Adorned in tabards bright as a nuclear bloom. Their…

A Criminally Bad Poem. (REVISED)

A criminally bad poem. (REVISED) Two ONE weeks today and I’m heading down To bustling ThatThereLondon town. Its streets will gleam, scrubbed free from grime, In celebration of the first @CapitalCrime A weekend of murder, death and sin, It’s plotted to be A. . . MAZ. . .ZING.   Stellar authors with their fictional veeps, Crime…

A Rubbish Poem #04.

Perched high atop the lumbering beast, he oversees The weekly feast, As down below, in dirty streets, his Hi-Viz crew Prepare the treats That the behemoth Chomps and chews and gnaws.   He watches as yellow vests feed the beast from kerb and step and from Drives left gated. With the weekly wastes choicest morsels….