“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…
Category: poetry
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…
Sunday Poem #01
I started to write a poem This morning inside my head. But I got waylaid with household chores, And don’t recall now what it said. I think it was really intense, Profound, you might say If you’d had the chance to read My forgotten verse some future day. I’m sure the words were…
A Rubbish Poem #14
It’s Tuesday, Oh-eight-twenty-five. I waken, fresh and rested. My ears attuned and listening for The approach of Hi-Viz vested Minions and The Beast To come bearing down our lane For, without their weekly visit Life isn’t quite the same. It’s Tuesday, Oh-eight-thirty-three. I check again, look down the street, For a sweet sight or the…
I’m watching and I’m waiting.
I’m watching and I’m waiting As the world keeps rolling by For a time when all lives matter And no-one has to die For the crime of simply being At the wrong time and wrong place When someone takes a hating to The colour of your face. I’m watching and I’m waiting And the world…
A Rubbish Poem #13
Where are you? You’ve not been, You haven’t yet come around to call. When you don’t drop by to visit Is it really Tuesday after all? Where are you? It’s gone 9. I’ve been peering down the street For a cheering glimpse of Hi-Viz And listening out for booted feet. Where are you? Is The…
A Rubbish Poem #12
Yapp! Yapp, yapp! Cry the neighbourhood hounds, Canine ears alert to the Bin men on their rounds. Yapp! Yapp, yapp! Howl the mutts inside their dwelling As rumbling closer The Beast And her Hi-Viz team come yelling. Yapp. Yapp. Whimper timid, frightened dogs, By the roar from crunching, grinding, Ripping, tearing cogs. Shush! Quiet, steady!…
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….
Gavin Dimmock. Writer. 