Month: February 2015

The Pedents’ Re-volt

Assorted Poems, Some poems

Its not eazy being a pedent
correcting others’ mis-takes all daylong
My freinds and me are totally sic
of observing gramma witch has gone wrong.

“Whom are these language offenders”?,
“could it be that I maybe one, to”
Their ignorant; stupid, and careless:
off gramma they have’nt a clue.

They’re speling is sutch an embarrasment
its’ amature, wired, and, abserd,
comprized of neither thought or intelligance,
to a dictionary they should of refered.

Writing down there awkwardly formed sentences,
the participle clauses are left dangling.
just made one less mistake each would have the affect
to dramatically reduce this language mangling.

The Great Famine

Assorted Poems, Some poems

The day the driver from Ocado
was late with her escargot,
Margot exhibited great bravado.

She had an insight into the plight
of the starving of Africa
as she waited patiently
for her celeriac and paprika.

She could see how
civilizations might fail
through focaccia gone stale
and for want of some kale.

And she thought to herself sadly
of those who sat drably
sipping on the dregs
of last night’s Chablis.

With some charity or other,
she set up a small direct debit
and then stoically rustled up
a smoked haddock rarebit.

Friday the Thirteenth

Assorted Poems, Some poems

For Keith,
Friday the Thirteenth
held no fear.
He wasn’t superstitious
(or even a little bit stitious),
and didn’t view the day
as particularly suspicious
or with the promise
of the unpropitious.

It was then a black cat
crossed his path,
causing him to step on a crack
which made him stagger
under a ladder,
and shatter a mirror
being carried
by a passing albatross,
who suffered fatal blood loss
from a shard
which flew hard
into its heart.

Keith didn’t think anything of it
until later that day,
at a wine reception,
he found himself trapped
in a conversation
about Jeremy Clarkson.

The Clowns

Assorted Poems, Some poems

Know this: those commuters
causing commotions on locomotions
with their funny fold-up bikes,
the vélo origamists of the vestibule,
are out-of-town clowns.

Their bags do not house laptops
or dossiers of documents,
but wigs and whistles, red noses,
hand-buzzers and balloons,
water-spraying carnations, outsized shoes,
giant toothbrushes, chickens.

Follow them out of the station,
post-disembarkation.
Observe the nearness of their feet
to the saddle as they straddle
their bicycles and comically pedal
through London street puddles,
and peddle their selection
of slapstick services
to city centre circuses.

Beards

Assorted Poems, Some poems

Beards grew on men’s faces,
inched past belts and braces,
slithered over shoe laces,
spread across floors,
crept under doors,
stretched across streets,
became entwined and entangled
at all kinds of angles
’til the ground disappeared,
drowning in beard.

Oceans got clogged
and mountains hogged
by the hirsuteness
that took rootness
as attempts to halt
the barbate bombardment
proved fruitless.

No glimmers of hope,
no trimmers could cope,
the vanity of humanity’s
destruction impending;
a hairy tale ending.