Monday, 20 October 2014
For us, this biscuit is not a hit,
if we had our way we'd recycle it.
We'd leave it, lonely, outside the gate,
post on Freecycle and patiently wait
for someone to take it to put on their plate.
But what if it were left for days on end?
Ignored, alone, without a friend,
abandoned outside like a social misfit,
'til a dog came along and took the biscuit.
Monday, 13 October 2014
when you were a child
poetry was just boring,
at the time when your imagination
was running wild,
it would start you snoring.
As you grow,
words have flow,
they take on meaning
speaks to you
As a juvenile
poetry fails to make you smile,
yet as an adolescent
it starts to make more sense
gives you verbal wealth
to express yourself.
Poems provide words
when the tongue is tied
and emotions are running high.
Then the spoken word
doesn't sound so absurd.
Monday, 6 October 2014
Mist shrouds the silver sun.
Leaves decay and crumble.
Like this chipped choc cookie.
Or a song by Simon and Garfunkel.
Light fades at six and seven.
The air is bleak and chill with cold.
God has deserted his heaven.
‘A love once new has now grown old.’
Monday, 29 September 2014
Pick up your toys
Shouted Mum to her boys,
Pick up your feet
Said Seb Coe to Mo,
Pick up my prescription
Croaked Granny to her first son,
Pick up a Penguin
Claimed McVities 'bout their biccies,
Pick up a date
Leered Larry to his mate,
Pick up a pick up truck
Screamed the chorus to Truckasaurus,
Pick up that wrapper
ordered Dad to his whippersnapper.
Wednesday, 17 September 2014
O dear, bonnie Scotland,
Lowland, Highland, your own sweet land.
In or out? Yes or no?
Do you really wish to go?
We believe that it’s your right
To decide this question,
But we hope that the result
Does not cause you indigestion.
If you wish to make the break
Then do so for your own sake.
We will miss your clear spring water,
Your sweet, sugary shortcake.
Arbroath Smokies and your wild, fresh salmon,
Your mountains and your lochs, each make
Of whisky, such as Famous Grouse,
Oh and all that keen financial nous.
We will miss your salted porridge,
Perhaps not the haggis or the neap,
Nor do we want a passport check
At the gate of Edinburgh’s keep.
Remember what you sow you reap.
It’s best to look before you leap.
We will miss those lilting names,
McDonald and McGinnes, MacLeod,
Johnstone and McFadyen,
Even Brown and Blair, clans that, mostly, make you proud.
Without the blue on the union flag
It will look just like a wretched rag.
No longer will we ignore our northern border,
Or climb the steep and jagged ben,
Or lie beside a clear and crystal burn
That rushes through a grassy glen.
Remember too there’s no way back
If you head down that lonely track.
We will miss your football teams,
Stirling that rhymes with curling.
Where the hell are Motherwell,
East Fife and Brechin, Forfar and Elgin?
Perhaps you’d prefer more devolution
To such a dread and drastic solution.
Never more will we watch the eagle soar,
Fly-fish along the Tweed or Tay,
Beat out the grouse across the moor,
Where the heather mourns in dark decay.
We will miss your monster from Loch Ness,
But perhaps, rather less, your bank at RBS.
Now that we come to think about it
Perhaps it’s really for the best
If we go our separate way.
You take your high road and put it to the test.
Follow the shoal. Ride the tide. Drift away.
Go, with the salmon and the sturgeon, way out west.
Monday, 15 September 2014
Danish is for pastries and bacon
Everyone loves wonderful Copenhagen
No one can surpass Schmeichel's saves
Mystical mermaids languish in nordic waves
A country built upon lego foundations
Ransacking vikings invading all nations
Killing the king led to Hamlet's orations
Monday, 8 September 2014
The holidaymakers have returned to Dover
Children trudge back to school
MPs resume playing the fool
Like these biscuits
Summer crumbles to dust
and our bank accounts
are empty and bust
As stumps are drawn
And old cricketers retired
Football fans flock to the terraces
Whilst managers are hired and fired
And the transfer window closes
As petals fall from the roses
We look both back and forward in September
A time to prepare and remember
Yet life is what happens
When you're busy making a plan
So lose the calendar and pens
And enjoy this Indian Summer while you still can