Home

ABOUT US

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Categories

POEM ARCHIVE

ONLINE SERVICES

BOOKS

Contact Us

Useful Links

February 27, 2017

 

 

He stood her up.

He stole her pride.

He sent her on

a wild goose ride,

 

to nowhere that

she’d ever been –

If he’d just said

‘He wasn’t keen’!

 

He stood her up.

she waited long,

Listening to repeats

of that same song,

 

Inside the doorway

of The Robin Hood.

Gently simmering

for his blood.

 

He stood her up,

so long ago.

Never could she let

the moment go.

 

For over an hour

she loitered there

With a sinking feeling

of despair.

 

He stood her up

on the first date,

as guys came and went,

and thought her bait!

 

And she, naïve –

a cold & wet young teen,

as the Juke Box belted out

Yellow bloody Submarine!

 

He stood her up –

‘A promise counts for nowt’,

She thought as the wind

blew her brolly inside out,

 

as the heavens again opened,

with not a rat in sight,

as she trundled home, bedraggled

on that wasted night.  

 

 

Post tags:

 

 

Ingrained from birth –

encouragement gone bonkers.

Hopes and advice to where

the future could lead.

 

Ingrained from birth

to be like someone,

a model, a standard,

a force to succeed.

 

Ingrained from birth,

into brain cells cemented –

a carbon copy, a cloned image –

Lord, let uniqueness be freed.

 

 

Post tags:

October 30, 2016

 

 

The truth of the matter,

when coconuts fall –

if you’re stood underneath,

then no life to recall.

 

 

Post tags:

August 31, 2016

 

 

 

More sorrow than there’d ever been,

losing one who loved a Gypsy Cream,

or Jammie Dodger if all else failed –

when the tin empty, how she wailed.

 

Such agony from a grumbling gut –

Oh how she loved a Ginger Nut,

or a Fig Roll, or perhaps Rich Tea.

A crumb of comfort all, that’s left of she.

 

 

 

Post tags:

June 8, 2016

 

 

As easy as that, they robbed him;

just took him for all he was worth.

Two urchin girls with the giggles,

destined to be thieves from birth.

 

A willing recipient he was,

flinging his arms in the air.

Flattered by so much attention,

as he strode through St Marks Square.

 

The rascals ran off – job accomplished;

an easy start to their day.

Cash expertly extracted,

before the wallet thrown away.

 

Percoughalees was really frustrated;

his plane due in under an hour.

He knew Mendotta would be onboard;

the chance to see her, now turning sour.

 

 

 

Post tags:

April 14, 2016

 

 

A hundred versions

of one person,

incredulously,

rolled into one.

 

Some laughable

beyond imagination.

Exaggeration expressed,

to cause sensation,

 

and gather momentum

with each telling,

as if a script

for Aaron Spelling.

 

A hundred versions

of one person,

coming to light

now they are gone.

 

Rumours and lies

and much mischief,

will likely,

always follow grief,

 

and gather moss

where corpse now dwelling.

The truth, the truth,

only Pentothal telling.

 

 

Post tags:

 

 

Four hundred years

since he left this earth.

Yet this gift so tacky,

and of little worth.

 

And not in keeping

with what he was about.

Purists of his word,

now scream and shout.

 

Leaving little doubt

how they do feel,

at the thought of his skyline,

with a Ferris wheel.

 

 

Post tags:

March 29, 2016

 

 

Such a surge of joy

when going places.

Fingers fighting

to tie shoe laces.

 

Such a sigh of relief

when homeward bound.

Now shoes kicked off

and slippers found.

 

 

 

Post tags:

March 27, 2016

 

 

How alarming to see the seam

of a lampshade burning bright.

Oh, the urge to turn it around,

until the seam out of sight.

 

How ridiculous to pick up litter

whilst walking along the street.

When behind you a million items

discarded at people’s feet. 

 

How unsettling to see out of place,

that which should be stood in line.

How damned annoying to feel so critical,

when OCD enters your world and mine.

 

 

 

Post tags:

December 26, 2015

 

 

My luck’s in today,

a dandelion said ‘Hi’.

The first of the Spring, or maybe,

the last of the Summer to die?

 

 

Post tags:
« Older PostsNewer Posts »