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. *UPDATE April 2021* Well, folks. It did win. My short story won first prize in Writing Magazine’s July competition for their “Twist Story” and was published in their December 2020 issue. Buoyed by its success, I revisited my original story, which came in at a little under 2,000 words,…
“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…
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!…
Gavin Dimmock. Writer. 