The Power of Poetry
with things falling apart
and anarchy let loose,
it was only poetry, he found,
which had any use,
so he reached for his copy
of The Complete Works of Yeats
and bludgeoned the President
of the United States
Selected poems
New year, same me
Selected poemsMy Year in Diets
Veganuary
Fibreuary
Starch
Cakepril
MaycaroniCheese
June&tonic
Julicecream
Augustickytoffeepudding
Septembeer
Octoblerone
Doughvember
Decemburger
Poem concerning a new year dilemma
Selected poemsMy Unbearable Politeness of Being
It’s the same dilemma
every year, I find,
upon meeting a person
for the first time,
for how long
does wishing them
a Happy New Year
remain de rigueur?
Perhaps I blow things
out of proportion
but I tend to err
on the side of caution
so I’ve always
Happy New Year-ed
until October the Third.
Poem which takes the form of a prayer
Selected poemsPrayer for Uninteresting Times
Send me a slow news day,
a quiet, subdued day,
in which nothing much happens of note,
save for the passing of time,
the consumption of wine,
and a re-run of Murder, She Wrote.
Grant me a no news day,
a spare-me-your-views day,
in which nothing much happens at all,
except a few hours together
some regional weather,
a day we can barely recall.
Poem for anyone going back to work today
Selected poemsNew Year Office Chitchat
How was your Christmas?
you ask
and I think of
the bloodstained rug
and the silent scraping
of the spade
in the garden
at midnight
and the wash wash
washing of my hands
and the dreams,
those endless dreams
which haunt
the night-time
and smudge
their thumbprints
on the day
to come
and I reply
Super, thanks. Yours?
Poem with a subliminal message …
Selected poemsResolution
Having failed to keep
A new year’s resolution for
Pretty much ever, this year I resolve to
Play it safe. The trick is to know
Your limits. Keep it simple.
Now what I resolve to do is to
Eschew a poetic form. Abstain from
Writing an acrostic for a whole
Year. A resolution, I think,
Easily done. Eminently achievable.
A piece of cake. Oh,
Rats.
This was the year that was not the year
Selected poemsThis was the year that was not the year
This was the year that was not the year
I repaired the bathroom tap
and emptied out the kitchen drawer
of a lifetime’s worth of crap.
This was the year that was not the year
in which I launched a new career.
A West End hit eluded me
as did Time Person of the Year.
This was the year that was not the year
I became a household name.
Action figures were not sold of me.
I wasn’t made a dame.
This was the year that was not the year
I spent less time on my phone.
A night of passion did not happen
in a boutique hotel in Rome.
This was the year that was the year
I didn’t get that much done –
much the same as the year before,
much like the one to come.
Roger’s Thesaurus
Selected poemsRoger’s Thesaurus
In order to grow, expand, widen
his lexicological corpus,
Roger bought, acquired, purchased
a synonymopedia, a thesaurus.
Soon, presently, without delay,
he no longer ran out of things to say,
speak, utter, express, articulate,
give voice to, pronounce, communicate.
This was all very well, fine, great,
wonderful, super, terrific
but his friends, mates, pals found him
boring, tedious, dull, soporific.
So let this be a warning,
an omen, a sign, a premonition,
it’s all very well to show learning,
education, knowledge, erudition,
but here’s a top tip, a hint,
a suggestion, some advice,
don’t ever let it stop you
from being concise
.
ss
brief, short, clear, pithy,
succinct, compendious, to the point,
compact, snappy, laconic.
..
.
Breviloquent.
Neither Rhyme nor Reason
Selected poemsTo make poems rhyme can sometimes be tough
as words can seem to be from the same bough,
yet each line’s ending sounds different, though,
best covered up with a hiccough or cough.
Was this upsetting to Byron or Yeats?
Dickinson, Wordsworth, Larkin or Keats?
Did they see these words as auditory threats?
Could they write their lines without caveats?
What does it matter when all’s said and done
if you read this as scone when I meant scone?
It’s hardly a crime. There’s no need to atone:
language is a bowl of thick minestrone.
So mumble these endings into your beard –
this poem should be seen, rather than heard.
O do not ask if I am beach body ready
Selected poemsO do not ask
if I am beach body ready.
Observe how the folds of my stomach ripple
like the wind-pulled waves.
Rub your hands over these pale buttocks,
sand-smoothed by time.
Note my milk-white limbs like washed up whalebones,
stranded and useless.
Consider these tufts of hair on my back and shoulders
sprouting wildly like sea-grass.
And listen to the lapping of my socks
at the shores of my sandals.
And still you ask me
if I am beach body ready?
