SCREAMING SILENCE

 

A motorbike wakes up our street

though muted for many a week

The owner's been laid off

sacked by a virus

the sound of the street

screams out his silence

I want to go back to waking at six

to my noisy neighbour giving life kicks

COAL DUST

grandad was a coal miner

dug diamonds before their time

found riches for others in the

grime

collieries proud, polished brass

and receding notes

in black and white photos

of black and white faces

dig further down in time

and find the coal dust 

shine

TIME'S SPOTLIGHT

 We are all in the full glare of time's spotlight. Some may not be word perfect, others may miss their cue. Some will be centre-stage, some will be content to play extras. We will be booed, applauded and shown indifference for our performance. But the show must goes on. And does.

MEMORIES OF GRANDPARENTS

Overall and pinafore

Sent by wormhole semaphore

Signal flagging 

History rhymes

Little bragging 

Uniform times

GREEN MIST

 Is that green mist on my glasses?

ethereal dance on the breeze?

I think it's more likely

(the chance is)

when you leant in and you sneezed

TIME TRAVEL LOVE LETTER

 

I could fix all the wrongs in this life

If I moved back in time to remain

But I promise to you my dear wife

I shall find you and love you again.

LEANING STREET

 

our front-garden walls lean to

and lean fro

in one giant game of brick-Jenga

some aren't clearly coping

missing coping stones

tramps teeth smiling

crooked smiles

history's miles

from years on the road

hedges replace others

green privacy

they still lean

in memory

HAIRSTYLES

 The style photographs on barber shop walls are warnings from the past. Black and white perms serve as a lesson to hubris. Mullets reach out to the daring and the daft. The drooping moustache pic hints at Mexican cowboy, though it's modelled by a bloke from Cheadle called Maurice.

IN-BETWEEN

We think we live by

the tick

the tock

of the clock

but we live in-between

the tick

the tock

of the clock

where we rise

and fall

and rise

and love

and kiss

and cry

it all fits

in-between

the tick

the tock

of the clock

mere signposts

life waits

in-between.

ACCORDION SHADOWS

my shadow

squashes

then

stretches

as I pass under

streetlights

at night

each sodium sun

quickly rises then sets

casting dark reflections

like orange accordions

squeezing

then pulling

my shadow

until finally

my own wheezy bellows

accompany the tune to this hill

MIDDLE-AGE SPREAD

I used to be this skinny guy

All legs and all arms and quite trim

Where's that young man gone, I cry?

Reader, I think that I ate him.

AFTER THE FROST

our breath no longer sprays

Snapchat-graffiti

briefly

upon the morning air

REFLECTING

 

Man In Glass Bus Stop

living art viewed by 

Woman Behind Glass On Bus

who in turn is viewed by 

Man Behind Glass In Car

We're all exhibits

we're all art

we're all critics

Entrance is free

to the gallery

From behind my glasses 

I catch

Poet In Reflection

reflecting

AN ILLOGICAL HATRED OF SPINY ANTEATERS

 I'd rather be a jellyfish

Floating in the sea

Than a spiny anteater

Eating ants for tea

I'd rather be a tiny worm

Wriggling on the ground

Than a spiny anteater 

Digging up a mound

I hate spiny anteaters

Of that there is no doubt

Stupid spiny anteater

With its stupid snout

LOVE IS...

 

I used to buy my wife a card

She'd buy one for me too

But three kids later it's so hard

To beat lie-ins for two.

My grand gestures might be gone

So long, sexy suppers

But love is...stick the kettle on

Let's show it with two cuppas. 

💘☕☕💘

BEING A POET IS LIKE..?

 

..saying what others might think

and thinking what others might say

mixng them up with

some thoughts of your own

and writing them down for no pay.

SCARY

 It's so cold that the frost seems to have dispensed with niceties and decorative white coverings. Instead it grips my lawn in rigid silence, as if it dare not, or cannot, move. 

-9. Not a temperature I'm much familiar with, but going on the reaction of my grass it's pretty scary.

BAR PHYSICS

 

Nothing can move faster

Than the speed of light

But when pubs reopen

I'll give Einstein a fright.

HOMAGE TO A BUS SHELTER

My all-weather tether to public transport,

My meeting-place, greeting place where we assort,

Alighting, inviting this orderly few,

Who stand from the wind and the rain in one queue.

REAL PHOTOGRAPHS

 We lose something in this bright, digital age. Real photographs in albums. Discoloured memories, living in dusty cupboards and drawers, wiped clean of tomorrow by descendants, who will marvel at our clothes and our ways, and bring us to life by the power of curiosity and love.

THE FIVE STAGES OF PUTTING THE BINS OUT

DENIAL - "What? It's not rubbish day again"

ANGER - "I did it last time!"

BARGAINING - "Let's get the kids to do it"

DEPRESSION - 'They're not getting up to help us are they?"

ACCEPTANCE - "OK I'll do it. Oh, missed 'em, they've been"

A WRITER'S LOT

Edit, edit, redraft

Edit, edit, write

Writers all, we're all daft

In efforts to be right.

FLAKE

 Flakes fall as floating, complex, dot-to-dots awaiting completion. They seem wary of the ground, as if knowing they will lose their mystery and individuality once they land. One catches my nose, melts onto my skin. Its unique, crystalline structure, lost forever to a warm face.

TIME FARM

Deep

in

the 

soil

lays a seed

and

deep

in

that

seed

lays a seed

and

deep

in

that

seed

lays a seed

and 

deep

in

that

seed...

FIRST CUP OF COFFEE

the roasting 

and the grinding 

and the filtering

of the bean,

has me boasting 

that I'm finding

flickerings 

of life unseen.

SPELLING DOWSE

Don't be like me and drop spelling clangers

When are coat hangers not really coat hangars?

Hangers, they hang from, and hangars, they house

Divining the rules with a quick spelling dowse.

BULB

 No matter how thick the blanket of snow. No matter how deep and heavy it lies. Somewhere, the first  spindliest bulb peeks through a hardened earth in search of a watery sun. Finding its own delicate way. A testament to patience, persistence and the incredible order of things.

RECIPE

 Take 1 Fresh Day - you can use frozen like this morning 

Add hope - substitute with passion if you've run out

Take a pinch of reality - too much and the taste is overpowering

Spice with imagination - go nuts here

Marinade in your minds eye and let it settle for 24 hours

Repeat

MEMORY

Fresh footprints in the snow

A clear memory

One sign of the past of the passed

Yet footprints become footnotes

as boots and shoes

and skipping birds

and shopping carts

and walking sticks

and stumbles, slides

and skiddadling cats 

carve memory's off-white, messy tracks.

BEST IN SHOW

 

A garden fête

where fate awaits

in gazebos with warm lemonade

Time's Tombola

and jars of dates 

Today's Best In Show and homemade.