THE TEA-BREAK STRATEGY

I've never lost a game of chess
when it's the PC versus me
If the PC has a chance of success
I unplug it and go for a tea.

SHIPPING FORECAST BLUES

I wake up feeling Cromarty
In fact I'm Dogger-tired
I go Forth to the kitchen
and make a Wight coffee
The Sole person awake
in my house
I'm well past my Forties
and Dover 50
Shannon feel much better than this
Tyne waits for no man
It's Fastnet cast.

DRIFT MINING

Sounds of a car engine start
are muffled by my double glazing
Light for a new day delivered
through nets and curtains in slices
I'm drifting awake, I think
or awake and recalling a dream
The senses arrive
In part we're revived
by memories
mining a seam.

WHITE LINES

The markings on roads
are repainted
as we tear along
white, dotted lines
It's often a blur
this road that's more travelled
We're fixed straight ahead
to the end

Stop!
Look!
Listen!

White lines wear away
whatever our route
Memory cannot be
repainted.

LIFE AS A JIGSAW PUZZLE

Start off
small
Find the
pieces
with ease
Don't worry about the picture
on the box
It changes without warning
Don't worry about the cracks
That's part of the puzzle
Don't force pieces to fit
where they should not
Once completed
Let your kids try.

SHIRE DAD

I was small
My granny's porcelain Shire Horse
was resplendent in harnessed decoration
and plaited mane.
The very symbol of strength
Teetering on her mantlepiece
Now I'm a father
I often think of that Shire Horse
A symbol of strength
and permanence
Made of glass.

BIN DAY ALARM

The clink of bottles
the tumble of cans
a bin day alarm for my street.
Recycling last night's thoughts
some rush out in duvets
old T-shirts
or less
Refuse in hand
Refusing to believe
they've missed
the truck as
it trundles
down
hill
A rubbish start to the day.

HOPE IN A TEAPOT

Yesterday I saw a sign. CAR BOOT SALE NEXT SUNDAY. It snatched me from the alternative reality in which we are living. I was transported to a time where haggling over a £5 tea service was the biggest worry of my week.
Bring it on.
I'll buy it.
There is always hope in a teapot.

ON FATHERS DAY - LITTLE OLE WINE THINKER, ME

I come from a long line of fathers
All fathers all have this long line
Whatever great vintage we're after
We're all grapes picked from the same vine.

BIN THINKING

I haven't got those wheelie bins
I wheelie need them, too
I've naked bags
That bend and sag
They stink in summer, pooh!

I haven't got those wheelie bins
Our bags are Al fresco
They're gnawed and pawed
By things with claws
Bin thinking it's Tesco.

A REMEMBRANCE

A foggy dawn
Ghost smiles of the sun
Net curtains drape a world
Twitching, the virgin veil blushes
with tides of colour
which ebb and flow
in and out of memory
Dots of birds
are painted as they fly
as grass grows into green
Painting by slumbers
We wake to colour.

WIFESHOP

Supermarket time
My oldywed and I
will shop in the
aisles of silly
We'll arrive
Don our masks
A middle-aged Bonnie & Clyde
sniggering beneath the lifesavers
Just two big kids
That time had forgotten
had forgotten time.

HIGH NOON DAWN

The daylight robber
that was the night
is unmasked
and sent scuttling
westward by the dawn
High Noon
is 4:42 am
'round our way
I'm no Gary Cooper
Preferring instead to be kissed
by the past in a dream
I wake with a taste
of yesterday
and gunsmoke
on my lips

IF WE'RE STILL NAMING DAYS

If we're still naming days
I'll guess at Sunday
Another day of rest
The diary is empty
We're Lockdown Socialites
The belles of no balls
All dressed down
and nowhere to go
Groundhog Day
Rinse and Repeat
Same time tomorrow?
If we're still naming days

STOP,LOOK,LISTEN

Have you ever looked at a watch
or a clock where
the second hand seems to
STOP
for the briefest of moments
where time just hangs in the air
then starts again
without a care?

This is where the world
resets itself and realises
that we nearly saw it
happen.

FILM NOIR

I wake to a pre-dawn, film noir. Colour hung in the air that could make tramps dance for a dime. The weather colder than an ex-girlfriends stare. The rain as welcome as a drunk at a christening. Through eyes that'd partied with better years I studied the day. The day winked back.

CRACKED

Part of the pavement to
the corner shop is cracked
What heavy-duty, Happy Shopper
has walked this way before?
Do I contribute to the stress
on the ancient pathway
to the convenience of bacon
and semi-skimmed milk at 6am
or do I tread so lightly
my journey is forgotten?

TILLING

Shackled by images of the news
where time stood statue-still
Centuries of glacial speed
we now till the moraine for pain
Much is debris, much is waste
yet the forgotten rocks
reveal jewels of memory
that once adorned
gnarled, broken hands
Which we now raise up

TIME

I've been flicking through the days
but it's nothing but repeats
The sun's having a day off
it sends an ill-prepared understudy
The clouds suggest rain
but they're only teasing
The wind won't whisper hints
when it might arrive
Time smiles at the antics
as it tocks as it ticks

POETRY JUGGERNAUT

Jack-knife on Route 66
Stanzas spill

Across

All

Lines

Massive enjambment to
Be expected with all
Connecting conjunctions and adjectives
Blocked and closed and sealed

Rhymes for now are unaffected
Barriers have been erected

Synonyms are like disco;
Dead.

DOWN IN THE DUMPS

You never know what you may find in a roadside skip. It's similar to the middle aisles of discount supermarkets. I have skip-surfed before, or is it skip-dipped? Tarpaulin for a garden project, an old dolls house that had been evicted and even books.
Call me Skip of the Dump.

SPARROW

As I kid I always wanted to see the rain return to the sky. We'd learned of the water cycle at school. I was certain I would see the sky reclaim it.
One day I found a dead sparrow in my garden. As I held it I realised why I would only see the rain fall down from the heavens.

BLUE

Yesterday's sky of blues and hues
Has been hidden behind the grey and black graffiti
Of the portent palette
The cobalt-assured azure of the shimmering sapphire
Waits for us behind the mask
Feeling forever out of reach
We grasp for tomorrow
When the wind will change again.

CAGES

The sky mines another morning
As the clouds billow out from the pithead
A vivid, steampunk vista
The climate's changed
The primate's changed
Saharan dust covers
The bonnet of my car
And the zoo
Internal combustion
External confusion
Eternal illusion
As we stay
In our cages.

JUNE

Summer repeats
June in my garden
A fond expectation of growth
I shall never be this young again
Yet here I am the oldest I've ever been
I cannot stop the grass from growing
As the trees burst forth into flowers and fruit
I stand back in admiration of nature in one moment.