Category Archives: Poetry

Under the duvet

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Under the duvet
When the world is too much
And your drive has been driven,
When you’ve tired of the rush
And no more damns can be given,
When your snowman is slush
And Santa’s sleigh has been ridden,
There’s just one place that you stay,
Hidden under the duvet.

Its fabric is warm
And its crevasses dark.
You won’t hear the storm
Nor the song of a lark.
There’s no need to perform,
No feat to bench-mark.
There’s no wrong thing that you say,
Hidden under the duvet.

So grab a torch and a teddy-bear
And a well-thumbed book.
Block the door with a chair,
Take the phone off the hook.
Leave your cares elsewhere,
Thumb your nose, cock a snook.
Draw a veil over to-day
With me under the duvet.
 

The house that Jack built

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The house that Jack built

Jack spied some land overgrown and squalid
On a road of rich houses high and solid.
‘Twas the garden of a cottage squat and horrid.
The house that Jack built.

To the elderly owner he did proffer
A few measly pounds to take the land off her.
Else someone would trip and sue, and try to rip off her.
The house that Jack built.
  Continue reading →

Knot Telling’s Sexagenadvent

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Knot Telling

On the eighth eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
An eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the seventh eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the sixth eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
Six lives saved by the IJM
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the fifth eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
Five pics of Commander Chris Hadfield’s moustache!
Six lives saved by the IJM
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the fourth eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
Four inspirational quotes by Malala
Five pics of Commander Chris Hadfield’s moustache!
Six lives saved by the IJM
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the third eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
Three kind actions by Pope Francis
Four inspirational quotes by Malala
Five pics of Commander Chris Hadfield’s moustache!
Six lives saved by the IJM
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the second eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
Two thoughtful blog posts
Three kind actions by Pope Francis
Four inspirational quotes by Malala
Five pics of Commander Chris Hadfield’s moustache!
Six lives saved by the IJM
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the eve of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
One grammar quiz
Two thoughtful blog posts
Three kind actions by Pope Francis
Four inspirational quotes by Malala
Five pics of Commander Chris Hadfield’s moustache!
Six lives saved by the IJM
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.
 
On the day of sexagenadvent
Knot Telling brought to me
Friendship, wit, and wisdom
One grammar quiz
Two thoughtful blog posts
Three kind actions by Pope Francis
Four inspirational quotes by Malala
Five pics of Commander Chris Hadfield’s moustache!
Six lives saved by the IJM
Seven bowls of Jewish chicken soup
and an eight-shaped lizard coloured in most carefully.

Care home cares

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Country road at sunset

A poem in memory of my grandmother Mary (Muriel) Peacock.
I hope that all you believe has come true.
You deserve it.
 
 
 
 

The swell of dread arises miles before,
Minutes tick away in jolts of angst.
Regret, guilt, and apprehension,
All throng to the beat of a wheel on tarmac.
A visit of duty, a duty of care.
Is the duty mine and do I
Care enough? The look of pleasure and
Appreciation is too much to bear, too grateful.

Those eyes whose confusion melts
Into a loving glow stoked from years
Lost in quiet and familiar unconditionality
Express too much too freely.
Hands worn smooth by aged cold-creams
Compelled by hiccoughs of the brain to rest withered on the pane
Grip with a strength of eloquence. A war-time
Wedding ring presses the words, I knew you’d come.
Continue reading →

It’s only a fag

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Burning cigarette
A guest post by Graham David Brown, written in his smoking days.

Hear the poem read by the author.

 
 
For God’s sake, Mother, it’s only a fag.
You make it all sound as though it’s quite bad.
I like to smoke to give me a high
and who the hell cares whether or not I die.

I feel I’m in heaven – on top of the world!
Never to come down, unless there’s a hill.
And then I’ll accept the damage I’ve done
To my friends, and yourself. And not forgetting my lungs.

I’d rather be cremated instead of lying around
Under the earth way down in the ground.
At least I’ll then be what my cigarettes become;
A small pile of ash to blow away in the sun.
 

Karma is a bitch

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yin-yang
They tell us Karma’s a bitch, but also our best friend.
It all depends on how our inclinations blend.
For a day of good luck we take Gran out to dinner
Then bugger it all by breaking a mirror.

In life’s balance half rises as the other half dips,
And a stranger’s nadir is our solar eclipse.
The wishing-well in our garden, fished by a gnome,
Will recall to the vagrant his distance from home.

For every bad habit too pernicious to kick it
Someone else wins a thousandth of a lottery ticket.
And when bird-shit hits dropped from above
We thank our lucky stars we’ll be the object of love.
Continue reading →

When giants crawl

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I once brimmed with hope and possibilities,
I thought I could skim the sun and surf the breeze.
With your words my wings withered with disease.
I walked with you.

You dreamed as well and these dreams came to nought.
Through me you thought your battles would be fought.
But mine are frail, my dear, and will not bear onslaught.
I covered you.

In frustrated fear you begin to sneer and then to grin
At every frail hope I’ve ever held within.
Where my skin once grew thick it now grows thin.
I’m crushed by you.

With mirthless intent you laugh and criticise
The truth I thought I glimpsed behind the lies.
And I know long before my last tear dries,
I’m over you.
Continue reading →

Situation Vacant

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Maid
A pile of filing on a table creaks.
A crumpled bag of washing reeks.
An unused Hoover round a corner peeks.
An unwashered tap in the bathroom leaks.

An abandoned sock on the floor’s alone.
An unironed heap has hidden the phone.
Unchecked moss on the decking has grown.
Oh won’t someone come help me clean this home?

One of the cats has just been sick,
So I’ll have to rush and mop it quick
Or I’ll find that the other has eaten it.
Oh. Too late. The little sh..kitty kit.

I don’t ask much, just a wipe or two
Over the smear of spilt Irish stew
That has now congealed and turned to glue
And gained a beautiful rainbow hue.
Continue reading →

Why not, asked Knot

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Knot Telling

Why everyone should like my friend Knot Telling’s blog at tellingknots.com and facebook page at facebook.com/tellingknots30.

 
Have you not liked Telling knots?
Asked Knot and if not,
Why not? Asked Knot.
For this site knocks the spots
Off other pages and blogs
Turns leopards into springboks,
Said Knot.

Didn’t you know, asked Knot,
That this site knocks the socks
Off cheer-leaders and jocks
Makes wannabe Hitchcocks
Push “snooze” on their clocks
Turns ordinary hacks into laughing-stocks,
Asked Knot.

Yes I do, replied Tim,
For the chances are slim
That it couldn’t charm cherubim
Fill a half-full glass to the brim
Mechanise kibbutzim
Captivate, fascinate, and infatuate homonyms.
All should like Telling Knots, replied Tim.