the grammar police got him
split his infinitive open,
removed his colon
and left him lying commatose
the next day he was pronouned dead
full stop
The Perils of Reading
Assorted Poems, Selected poemswe sought other delights
as Wuthering Heights
had really started to bore us
but my Penguin Classic
went all Jurassic
when Emily Brontesaurus
scissors
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsreturning to his old school,
Roy vanquished
childhood warnings
by running up and down
the corridor
with scissors in his hand
and, so doing, liberated himself
from the burden
of conformity
he did this for twenty-six seconds
before the tiger got him
Prometheus Uncreased
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsNo-one could press a shirt
Like Percy Bysshe Shelley.
It said in a programme
I saw on the telly.
He would flatten with flair
Like a hero Byronic,
Which I guess you could say
Is a little ironic.
Toby
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsSoon it would soon be January again.
She simply did not know
where the year had gone.
Eventually she found it
hidden away
in a shoebox,
under the bed,
along with 1997
and 2005.
Toby.
He had taken the best years of her life.
The Day It Rained Cats and Dogs
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsthe day it rained
cats and dogs
you spent your time
pussyfooting around
and trying not to step
in the poodles.
Tony’s Tattoo
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsTony had a tattoo
of his face
tattooed
on his face
no-one knew
except for Tony
and his tattooist,
who was also
called Tony
failure
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsfive years passed
before Denise
admitted to herself
that they were never
going to get it together
yes, they were close
but it was like there was
something missing
and although they
worked on it together,
talked things through,
looked at it from all angles,
tried new things out
(this way and that),
it never seemed
quite right
why Mike should think
that flat-pack assembly
was such a good idea,
Denise would never know
parties
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsshe was always in the kitchen at parties,
hiding in the vegetable rack,
wondering when it might be safe
to slip out the back
Book Group
Assorted Poems, Selected poemsThe last Thursday of every month was Book Group,
When the books would gather together
To discuss Graham.
“He has barely touched me I am sure I am
Only here so he can show off to his friends,”
Complained Ulysses, in a stream of self-consciousness.
“Consider yourself lucky,” cried Fifty Shades of Grey.
“He’s always got his dirty hands all over me. Look at my cracked
spine and turned down corners!”
“At least he’s prepared to put you two on display,” sobbed
Coping with Erectile Dysfunction, limply, from behind
The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
“The problem isn’t him, it’s you,” declared the Oxford English Dictionary, with meaning.
“You get too involved. With me, it’s just a quick in and out.
We have an understanding.”
“That’s all very well for you to say, pronounce, utter, articulate,”
muttered Roget’s Thesaurus, who always had some words
To add to the conversation.
Graham entered the room, carrying a box.
Dipping into it, he pulled out a slim, shiny metal object.
He stared at it all night, his interest kindled.
The books sat silently on the shelf.
