HNY.
’21 now lies behind us, A stale fart on December’s breeze, Now ’22, shiny and new, Brings hope; She’s such a tease. Will She prove to be a good one? Filled with love and hope? Or will She offer, instead, More fear and dread, Meaning some just cannot cope? When twelve months have been Then…
“37 Words“
Underground In the dark There’s a tunnel With a light At the end Closing fast Foe or friend Beast or pet What’s the knowing Be brave Take a step To that beacon Your dreams Now the past
Task. Force.
They’ve arrived, your troops. Now in neat rank and file, They stand to attention, primed for Their first action in some while. Are you ready to pop From each blister-pack, The task force you require daily To come storming back? Just one every morn and You’ll soon be fighting fit. Able to cope with the…
Once More.
I’m sinking. Once more. Drowning in the abyss. I see the Carefree. With their smiling faces, Their endless effer-fucking-vescent bonhomie. Why should they know joy? When I’m funereal. I want to take them Onto the darkened sea, Where they will sink too.
Did you?
What have you all done this past year While the world was shut up tight? Did you descend into fear and worry Or remain hopeful and bright? Did your world shrink down inside The four walls of your home? Did the fears you’d never see another Leave you bereft and all alone? Did you miss…
Regent Honeyeater
This morning, while lying in bed and half-listening to the news on the “Today” programme, a short article came on. It concerned the regent honeyeater, an Australian bird that is critically endangered and has lost its ability to sing its own song to attract a mate, hence its decreasing numbers and increasing vulnerability to becoming…
Rubbish Poem #21
LOST! Reward for Information if you know, The whereabouts of Our bin men adrift Somewhere in the snow. For two whole days We’ve kept vigil Eyes casting north, west, South and east For any sign at all of those brave Hi-Viz and their Beast. If you chance upon them Lost and lonely somewhere, Please forgive…
Captain, oh our Captain.
Captain, oh our Captain. We knew you not before Yet twice you answered England’s call In peace and times of war. Proudly you stood To face the foes With each step forward, Heels to toes. Around his garden, a Yorkshireman, On a walking mission to raise a grand, Captured all our hearts, brought Hope sweeping…
(As yet untitled)
Ice winds freeze brave DC’s air On a chill January morning As the world watches and waits for Oaths of office to be sworn in, When a slight young woman, Wrapped tight in yellow and red, Steps on up to the mic About to thrill global millions With the words that she read. Those words,…
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?…
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…
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…
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…
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.…
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 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…
