Selected poems

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.

A poem about my experience of ‘travelling’ on Britain’s railways

Selected poems

The Poet Now Standing at Platform 3A

The poet now standing at platform 3A
is the delayed 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival,
calling at: Longwaite; Anguish; Bleakside;
Much Wallowing-in-the-Mire; Little Hope;
Hangdog Manor; High Dudgeon; Irk; Fuckham; Mope;
Doldrum Parkway; Wearyside Central; and Wits’ End.

We are sorry to announce this poet is delayed
by approximately one hour and fifteen minutes.
Please listen for further announcements.
We apologise for the inconvenience this may cause.

The poet now standing at platform 3A
is the delayed 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival.
Please note, this poet will now NOT be stopping at:
Great Ease; Serenity Junction; or Arrival-on-Time.

This poet has been delayed by approximately one hour
and forty-eight minutes.
Customers are advised to stand well back from the poet,
who’s on edge.
Please listen for further announcements.
We apologise for the disruption to your journey today.

The poet currently standing at platform 3A
is the delayed 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival.
This poet consists of nine elements:
oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, tedium, delirium,
odium, caffeine, shortbread, and despair.

A trolley service, featuring mild palpitations
and a selection of hot and cold sweats,
is trundling through this poet.

This poet has been delayed by approximately two hours
and twenty-three minutes.
Please listen for further disruptions.
We apologise for the announcements to your journey today.

There has been a platform altercation.
The agony at platform 3A does not stop here.
The 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival has been disrupted.
Customers should not bore the poet at this time.

The platform now standing on poet 3A has been delayed
by approximately three hours and forty-two minutes.
We apologise for the apologies to your disruptions today.

If you hear an announcement that doesn’t sound right,
seek your stash. Or text a local dealer on 61016
to help you through this.
He’ll sort it. Seek it. Pay it. Snorted.

Please note that for your safety and comfort
this station operates a no trains policy.

The festival now standing at poet 14.30 is the delayed
3A speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry platform.
We are sorry to announce that this poet has been waylaid
by approximately four hours and twenty-two minutes.
Will passengers intending to travel on this service
make their way to the platform as the poet is now ready to jump.

Please note that longings must not be left unattended at this station.
Any hope left unattended may be removed without warning, or destroyed.

This is a customer announcement.
The 14.30 speaker for the Wits’ End Poetry Festival has terminated here.
A bard replacement service will be in operation.
We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause.

A poem which contains some fancy words

Selected poems

Logomachy

To say that Damian
was sesquipedalian
would be an understatement

for there was no abatement
in his capacity for loquacity
and not one trace of temerity
in his pursuit
of verbal dexterity.

It was precisely this pomposity
mixed with verbosity
which made him describe
Kieran Thomas as “crepuscular”.

Kieran Thomas was also more muscular.

Damian nursed his black eye
and hoped Kieran
might be struck down with
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

A poem for World Meteorological Day

Selected poems

And Now for the Weather

Today is set to be agreeably alliterative  
across an assortment of areas 
although the occasional metaphor  
may cause some faces to cloud. 

Idioms will be coming down like stair rods 
in northern regions, while the south  
may experience the odd outbreak of similes, 
like an unexpected shower of arrows. 

In coastal, littoral, and seaside areas,  
synonyms remain likely.  
Further inland, sudden gusts of hyperbole 
look set to take your breath away 

and a series of scattered euphemisms  
will have you reaching for your wellies. 
If you’re driving, please be aware that tautologies  
of frozen ice are still affecting some roads,  

after a heavy, prolonged flurry of oxymorons.  
And finally – from tomorrow evening –  
expect the return of some light litotes,  
making next week’s outlook hardly the best. 

Poem written while waiting for a train at a provincial railway station

Selected poems

If I Could Have My Time Over

If I could have my time over,
I would do it all differently
and not treat each precious moment
with such disregard and flippancy.

I would use my time effectively,
I would think ahead and plan.
I would reserve my stores of energy,
and take charge when I can.

But it’s too late in the journey
for regret, too late to repent –
because there’s not a socket in sight,
and my battery’s on one per ce

A o m in hich I tar to r n o t of hara t r

Selected poems

Out of Character

having noticed one day
his keyboard was dirty,
he reached for the soap spray
and gave it a SQWERTY,
before scrubbing away
‘til each letter was clean
in ignorant bliss of
having wrec ed his machine –

for the  eys which once wor ed
no  grad ally did not
and the more that he ty ed
the  orse it all got
so that as the close
of his  oem dre  near,
as he  atched every s mbol,
e ery sign disa  ear,
he felt li e a  ostman
at the end of hi  ro nd,
 ith barel  a lette
in hi  bag to b  fo nd.

A poem in which I attempt to write an abecedarian poem in praise of the dictionary

Selected poems

An Attempt to Write an Abecedarian Poem in Praise of the Dictionary 

An unfaltering ability to 
Bring clarity to the English language 
Constitutes your  
Defining quality. 
Ever since the day we 
First met and I 
Giggled at the rude words  
Hidden amongst your pages, 
I adored you,  
Jubilant in the 
Knowledge that things were 
Looking up. You offered me the 
Meaning of life, 
Not to mention the meaning of all those 
Other words, too. 
Perfect at settling Scrabble board 
Quarrels, your judgement 
Reigns supreme. I 
Sift you daily, panning for words in 
The hope of penning the  
Ultimate – the greatest poem this  
Vast world has ever seen, but 
Whoa, here comes the 
X, and oh, alphabet, how could you, I knew 
You’d get the better of me 
Zooner or later.