A reckoning of spreadsheets.
A distraction of smartphones.
A prattle of podcasts.
A mispronunciation of scones.
A clique of photographers.
A heard of precedents.
An enjambment of
poets. A grope of presidents.
A pile of haemorrhoids.
A bunion of personal trainers.
A bout of estimations.
A condescension of mansplainers.
A stroke of geniuses.
A spot of adolescents.
An embarrassment of Richards.
A collection correction of pedants.
I love you more than life itself
but I swear I’ll love you better
if you let me turn the heating off
and you wear another sweater.
I cannot get enough of you –
I’m completely in your thrall.
I love to watch you bending over
to unplug the telly at the wall.
Yes, you’re the only one for me,
my sweet and fragrant flower –
now you’ve ditched your daily bath
for a cost-efficient shower.
Make no mistake, I love you loads,
you send my head into a spin.
Our cycle’s set to eco-wash:
let’s cram as much as we can in.
My cup of love’s full to the brim,
it overflows, my petal.
So make yourself a brew with me,
but don’t overfill the kettle.
Erm, well – I begin, shifting nervously in my chair –
if it’s true there is no heaven and no hell,
no eternity or long hereafter,
no divine plan or offstage direction from an invisible hand,
then how do we make sense of it all,
how do we make our way through this life,
this glorious, ridiculous, ramshackle world of ours,
with its wars and brutality, conflicts and petty arguments,
the ten thousand tiny acts of kindness
which happen unnoticed before breakfast,
and all that love and pain, happiness and loneliness
that comes to us unannounced, by turns,
as if we ourselves were pitched daily
onto the waves of one of its vast, mysterious oceans,
not knowing whether today is the day we drown
or we find ourselves washed up
on some strange but friendly shore?
Mmm – you say, after a lengthy silence –
what I meant was … do you have any questions
about the job?
Haiku #2511
Tourists wait in line
to enter Machu Picchu.
Oh, look! A high queue.
Haiku #564127
how dare you suggest
I have a short attention
spanish omelette
Limeraiku
There once was a young
limerick from Kew who turned
into a haiku.
The Constraints of Haiku
Tied up all night with
a haiku dominatrix
and her three-line whip.
Shakespearean Haiku
Shall I compare thee
To a summer’s day? Alright –
Thou art pretty hot.
How to Write a Haiku
The last line should flow
seamlessly from the first two –
hippopotamus.
It’s publication day for ‘How to Lay an Egg with a Horse Inside’.
For those of you who preordered, I hope your copy has arrived and you enjoy reading it.
For those of you who, for some strange reason, didn’t preorder, it should be out there in most bookshops for perusal and purchase. But only if you want to.
There’s a special edition available through most indie bookshops (signed and with a bonus poem inside).
The book is available through the usual online places, too.
And as if that wasn’t enough, I’ve written a show based around the book, which I’ll be touring with later on in the year.
If you have any questions, please pop them in the comments and my PA (Poetry Assistant) will get back to you in the next couple of months.
Let me cut to the cheese:
every time you open your mouth,
I’m on tender hooks.
You charge at the English language
like a bowl in a china shop.
I wish you’d nip it in the butt.
On the spurt of the moment,
another eggcorn tumbles out.
It’s time you gave up the goat.
Curve your enthusiasm
and don’t give them free range –
or the chickens will come home to roast.
Sorry to be the flaw
in your ointment. You must think me
a damp squid, I suppose –
but they spread like wildflowers
in a doggy-dog world,
and your spear of influence grows.
Tell me, what is it about this position that interests you?
The warmth, perhaps? The security?
Or the power you must feel by rendering me useless?
Feel free to expand if you wish.
I see you have had experience of similar positions.
Can you talk about a time when you got somebody’s tongue?
Or were set amongst the pigeons?
Tell me about a time you’ve had to deal with a difficult situation –
for instance, have you ever found yourself in a bag?
If so, how were you let out of it?
How would you feel if you had to walk on hot bricks?
What about a tin roof of similar temperature?
With reference to any of your past lives,
has curiosity ever killed you?
Finally, where do you see yourself in five years’ time?
In the same position? Or higher up to catch the sunlight?
What’s that? You would like to be where I am now?
Oh, it appears you already are.
“Sometimes the power
of a homophone
will just come out of nowhere
and hit you –
like being struck
by a ten ton truck,”
articulated Laurie.
I did not tell Death where I lived –
But he has found me all the same.
I hear his knock upon my door
And the calling of my name.
My Snapchat settings kept him out.
On Instagram I blocked him.
Facebook friend requests were spurned –
Yet still he keeps on knocking.
A court injunction freshly filed,
But still I sit in fear.
Oh, my mistake. It is not Death –
I think my pizza’s here.
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
