You Took the Last Bus Home (again)

News

It’s publication day for the new edition of my first poetry collection, You Took the Last Bus Home. It’s been unavailable for nine months, following the demise of its original publisher, Unbound. I’m so delighted that Picador stepped into the breach to bring out this shiny new edition.

Hopefully it will now be back on the shelves of most bookshops – and it’s available to order online from all the usual places. You can find a few links to where to order here: https://www.panmacmillan.com/authors/brian-bilston/you-took-the-last-bus-home/9781035086634

Roger’s Thesaurus

Selected poems

Roger’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.    

Public Information Film

News

There now follows a short public information film containing particulars of Brian Bilston and The Catenary Wires’ autumn tour.

You can find more particulars here, in particular: https://brianbilston.com/events/

Neither Rhyme nor Reason

Selected poems

To 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 poems

O 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?

You Took the Last Bus Home

News, Selected poems

I took delivery yesterday of some advance copies of the gorgeous new edition of ‘You Took the Last Bus Home’.

In celebration of that, here’s the title poem …

You Took the Last Bus Home

you took
the last bus home
don’t know how
you got it through the door 

you’re always doing amazing stuff 

like the time

you caught that train

The Bad Salad of William Archibald Spooner

Selected poems

Why do I always watch my birds?
I know that statement sounds absurd
but today I reached an all-lime toe
when I received a blushing crow.

It’s wetting gorse – and here’s the crunch:
my conversation packs a lunch.
I’m not sure when all this began
but I think I need a plaster man

to help me when my stouth gets muck.
I should sit, perhaps, and bead a rook,
fight a liar, or flick some powers.
No, I think I’ll go and shake a tower.

…………………………………………………………………..

The Reverend William Archibald Spooner was born on this day in 1844. He’s remembered today for his unfortunate habit of getting his words muddled up. Happy Spoonerism Day to all those who belly crate.

Wild Weekend

Selected poems

Sunday – and the squirrels are lazing in their branches,
the sheep are congregating for morning service,
and the bears are sleeping off their sore heads.

The sloths are taking things slow, the hippos are wallowing,
the cats are curling up on the newspaper in front of the television.
The alpacas will spend the day in their fluffies.

Not everyone is taking it easy. The deer are up already
for a walk around the park. The ducks are planning a trip
across the lake. The salmon have gone wild swimming.

The snails are pottering about the garden, while the crows
scan its aisles for materials and a spot of DIY. The pigeons have split
up: some are hanging around the shopping centre,

others intend to spend the afternoon at the Test match.
The lions are having an old friend over for dinner, the camels
are baking, the spiders are browsing their webs, and the humans…

the humans are wondering where the weekend has gone
as they stave off the prospect of another beastly Monday,
questioning the natural order of things.