A poem about the benefits of acrostic poetry

Selected poems

Acrostic Poetry: The Benefits

Available in a range of words

Children love it!

Requires less effort to write than a sonnet

O is the fourth letter in ‘acrostic’

Something about S

T

I don’t want to do this any more

C Already done that one

At last, a proper poem

Assorted Poems

This is One of Those Poems Without Any Rhymes

This is one of those poems
without any rhymes,
the sort of thing you might read
in the Telegraph or Times Guardian.

For, as proper poets know,
rhyme’s deleterious
and only gets in the way
when you’re trying to be serious profound.

It’s childish and cloying,
simplistic and singsong
to bat rhymes back and forth
like some dull game of ping pong table tennis.

To the literary critic
it will cause great affront,
which will make you resent them
and think them a snob.

This is also one of those poems
which looks like it might go on to say something insightful
about the human condition
but then just kind of ends.

A body horror poem

Selected poems

No Body’s Perfect

his tennis elbow
was his Achilles heel

and his Achilles heel
was on his athlete’s foot

and his athlete’s foot
made him down in the mouth

and though the down in his mouth
he took on the chin,

it became less a shot in the arm
than a chip on his shoulder –

so that when the doctor
finished examining him

and told him what was wrong,
he was all ears

BookKind Non-Fiction Book of the Month

News

The totally ace online booksellers BookKind have chosen ‘How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside’ as their Non-Fiction Book of the Month for April.

This is doubly good news because every copy sold via BookKind raises money for charity – just select from a range of charitable organisations when you order: https://bookkind.co.uk/book-of-the-month-home/

In celebration, here’s a video of me confronting the blank space of the white page. Or possibly the white space of the blank page.

A poem about the importance of punctuation

Selected poems

Slow Puncture

I’d use every one of them – each tiny symbol / sign –
to ‘light up’ my words … and write eye-catching lines:
the comma; the colon; the ellipsis; the slash;
the question mark; the hyphen; the en and em dash.

In stanzas 1-2, it was all there on show
(Was there nothing not used? The short answer: No!)
But then I came to an unfortunate juncture:
my punctuation, you see, got a slow puncture

and those small, helpful marks which let my words breathe
or made me understood, all started to leave.
Hyphens unhappened semi colons got missed
apostrophes went awol in commaless lists.

“And what of the question marks Oh yes even those
(while my brackets and speech marks forgot how to close
When the last comma left there was nowhere to pause
my words floated by in one endless clause

and no one could tell once the full stops departed
where one sentence ended and another one started
capitals absconded and meaning left too
as the breaks between stanzas bowed then withdrew just like the line breaks 
then all sense gotblurred thelastthingtogowasthegapsbetweenwords 

A poem about eggs and baskets

Selected poems

Add to Basket

Browse eggs. Click on egg.
Add to basket.

Buy One Egg Get One Free.
Add to basket.

Buy Five More Eggs to Qualify for FREE delivery.
Add to basket.

Other Recommended Eggs based on your Browsing History …
Add to basket.

Customers who bought this Egg also bought these Eggs …
Add to basket.

Here are some other Eggs you might like to consider …
Add to basket.

What other Eggs do Customers buy after viewing this Egg?
Add to basket.

Avoid Putting all your Eggs in One Basket with Our New Range of Baskets …

Browse baskets. Click on basket.
Add to basket.

Buy One Basket Get One Free.
Add to basket …

A poem about a laid-back crow

Selected poems

Crow’s Day Off

Crow woke early.
He had a surfeit of worms; the nest was in good repair.
The whole day stretched in front of him,
like a sweep of clear blue sky.

Today, he would take his time.
Maybe he wouldn’t head straight to Bob’s to watch the game,
but go and hang out in the meadow for a while
or have a little flap over to the brook.

Yeah, maybe today he’d take the scenic route.

A poem about the moon

Selected poems

How Hard It Is to Be the Moon

How hard it is to be the moon.
I hang palely in the sky,
while all else shines and sparkles
and the shooting stars go by.

And on Earth, the useless poets
scribble words in praise of me
for recital by young lovers,
gazing moonstruck at the sea.

For a time I had some company
but then the visits stopped.
Magnificent desolation
is carved deep into my rock.

The tides sweep in and out once more.
That’s the way things always are.
The Earth goes about its business.
I float alone, among the stars.