Category Archives: Poetry

Gigantean

GIGANTEAN
(thought for the New Year)

And what profound statement
will you make now?
What statement
that will revolutionise
everyone’s life?

Is it a statement of
Penicilli-a-n
Proportions?

And will it be taken by all?
Will it penetrate their lives
To produce effects of
gigantean multiplicity?

To all – to all
I will say
this statement
is coming your way

But let’s be honest
You won’t all buy
No matter how much I try
The statement will
pass you by

Too many antibiotics
and
Immune you become

Immune to statements of
gigantean import

Unless you break a mind-set
and set your will
to swallow a
health giving pill

Otherwise
Tomorrow you will
continue as you were

For I propose you find it
contrary to your physical eye

My statement to glean?:

Look at the things that are unseen…

(II Corinthians 4/18)

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Everyday Occurrence

EVERYDAY OCCURRENCE

It was to be
just
another
ordinary
walk in the woods
Raison d’etre – ?
health – re-invigoration

It was to be
just
another
full overcoat
jamboree
into the home of
the trees

It was to be
just
another
‘half-conscious’
observational
excursion into the
grassy undergrowth

It was for me
a daily occurrence
– as for she

Healthy walks
with the nature girl
and I
the townie guy

– country mouse
meets town mouse

thirty-six years later
morphing into
country-town
mice

and then home for tea

Images

IMAGES

Everywhere we look
Images present themselves
Like the discovery of clothes
The digital revolution has taken hold

Our new parchment caressed by cursor
Clicks us here en route to there
Images like accordions unwind
Millions become the new tens or twenties

Glut – image overload –
No choice given – just choice to turn away
Barbed-wire of all kinds getting in the road
Something new everyday to unfold

We make our way to what we want to see
To find it wasn’t what we thought it to be
Like the sea and it’s wave-roll
Against us it comes – beating us to succumb

More opinions than can be numbered
Communication wires-crossed
Spaghetti junction overload – of phrases
Headlines and cameras capture all of life

Nothing is left to the imagination
As the imagination has spewed all things seen
Images – like a gigantean archive to be sorted
We pick and choose and no longer are surprised

We can only find meaning and value
With discrimination’s guide
Taking one image at a time to behold
While still hanging some on our walls

Is it possible to come to the end of images?
Are schools of thought ever – redundant?
Do they reach an end to the road?
– Image overload

Acquired taste – might peruse the menu now
And find our seal of approval
As we separate the jigsaw pieces
To form – what means something – to view

Discriminate –
and find something worthwhile
As we take our eyes off the banal
And fix them on what is whole
Staying in control of this post-modern scroll.

Cold

COLD

Cold air penetration
Shiver to the bones
Shaking – not stirred
Time to stir-up the blood
Arms like wings exercising
Running on the spot
Shadow boxing like a ‘Pro’

A good long walk
Would be better still
Circulation in response:
De-frosting to a semi-warm glow
Head shaking – that’s ok
Reaching down for the toes
Got there in the end
Rather have – too warm – than cold

Life by Paintings Measured

LIFE BY
PAINTINGS MEASURED

Life and it’s years
Measured by reflection
Recorded by another art work
Through choices of introspection

Forgotten or remembered dates
– written or not recorded dates –
signed pieces of spent time
scribbled on front or back –

Many escaped the cameras cache

Thus opening the door of surmise –
When – where – how – what – ?
Not sure and can’t remember

Marks of my own making
have gone out there
as fully-formed relatives of
heart and mind

Gone out there

There – under the sun – elsewhere
under the skies and ceilings of
other homes
Lost they are –
No tag upon the ankle
– hanging on the wall
Gone from me their first love.

I’ve lost you – children of mine

Who could you possibly
mean more to – than I…?

Time ticked by
as I remember time ticking by

Whilst I studied you – changed you –
added to your import

As I filed you – sold you –
alas – oft with regret

Gave you – itemised you –
folded you – ironed you –
cut you – framed you – forgot you
or got you back.

Gave you to – unworthy foster parents
who put you somewhere –
closed off out of sight in
chest or attic

Years gone by –
measured in spatters – washes
– and dry-brushed patterns all amok

Time recorded in
frantic marks – that scurried across
one hundred and forty pounds cold-pressed

Some stood/stand the test of time –
others – disqualified by those in a
daze of incomprehension

“I don’t know much about art…”
was the rubber stamp at the
custom’s gate of their minds

Still – can’t complain –
‘cause some will not let you go
a pillar of time you represent in
associated thought:

“My husband loved that painting of yours
I still have it – wouldn’t part with it”

Time – years – paintings gone
Out of sight – owned by others
– never to return

Many of them have worn well
Others heard man’s benediction
spoken over them:
“Time for a change –
remove her from the wall…”

What possible worth
can be found in these –
the inanimate?

And yet – thought is
art engrafted-on-paper
and thought is Still Life
revealing – there is still life

Inanimate perhaps
but what stories they tell –

Vincent did well know
His paintings oft rejected –
before he had to go

No artist can measure his years
except by Retrospectives

He alone was at the secret birth
of images coming out
delivered to the picture plane

Years measured by paintings
All unique –
Dark and sombre or all aglow

Years measured by paintings
This will have to do
to document a life

On these – man places worth
If enough will say – it should be so

Years measured by paintings
A raft of scattered years
Recorded in line and colour
and form and tone by what appears

I wonder at them all
Categorised with equality
If rejected by the Salon
It doesn’t matter to me

Years measured by paintings
I have quite a few
still wanting to leave home
to make their way to you

Words Strung Together

WORDS STRUNG TOGETHER

A poem-a-day keeps the cobwebs away
Try to remove the ‘corn’ from this production

Slice it in two and bring the two parts together:

a poem of cobwebs keeps the day away
and in a-way a cobweb of poems keeps the day

You have been granted leave to
move on now
As we take our collaged slices
to a new level
cutting it at every letter and
(perhaps)
ransom-noting a message to
hide below the rock

It is now rock-based and steady as a rock
the letters lie in wait/weight to re-form
in a new formation
like fighter planes
arrayed across either side of the runway

Letters that say nothing until word-formed
and sentence-induced to rise into the ether

Hidden words contained in the letters
Volatile mixtures of joined-up-writing
blossoming like flowers into expressive
sights and sounds

This is the life of language up close and accessible
or far removed, distant and inaccessible to the ‘common man’

What will you have? Words for words sake?
Articulating themselves to form no meaning
or do you choose ‘simple’ – simple as:
Simple Simon who met a pie man going to the fair?

Enough now of lowbrow or high
We started with corn and finish with bread:

For example – maybe?
Go see-hear what Shakespeare said?

OPINIONS

OPINIONS

An unsolicited opinion
Comes staccato’d out

Laid-back hearers are not
disturbed from slumber

While a leg is placed parallel
to another
upon the adjacent chair

Some kind of snorted hybrid
of groggy-headed sleep
and grunted acknowledgement
of what has been spoken
adds a full point to the utterance

But nothing else stirs
Deadly silence
The stated opinion fades
making no impact of any kind

Then suddenly another fills the air
It is a response
And is another opinion
antithetical to the one just offered

Again the deadly silence
No snort this time
All six in the room
just leave it there…
let’s leave it like that…
nothing more to say…

no corporate manifesto
to embrace
opinions come and
opinions go…

 

 

Spinning Bait

SPINNING BAIT

‘Neath the crystal shining water
Lodged amongst the weeds
Another competing shine
lay entwined

It was not profound
or naturally blessed with the poet’s
turn of phrase

Nor was it some phenomenon
of nature
encased within the naturalist’s
explanation –
with need of
the professor’s investigation

But shone it did –
approaching beauty –
near to
what only nature provides

Waiting for the line to snap
As the fisherman tried in vain
To free the three-pronged spinner

‘Horrible thing’ –
all-a-glistening
toothed and menacing
The pike’s most feared enemy

At interludes of rest
amidst his sweating effort to free it
– the fisherman sat and marvelled
at it’s shine

How innocuous and
silver-coloured-bright
is this piece of metal –
best kept there until the sun
seeks it out in it’s next smile

rendering it innocent when
knowledge of it’s use is missing

Enhancing it
to entertain with glee
the eyes of you or me.

However –

All that glitters does not have soft intent
But rips into flesh to get the predator out

Snap – cut – terminate – the line
And leave it where it is

Best to capture our eyes with beauty
Than to ravage fish for fun (?)

it’s all in the ‘s’

it’s all in the ’s’

saccharine sludge from separate sweets
slid unceremoniously sideways into the sink

simmering sausages slid eventually onto the plate
stubbing his toe – he nevertheless sat in something resembling a chair and glared suspiciously at the sausages he had set before him

sad to have no suitable side-kicks sat next to him, he subsequently sought the company of the cat…

setting it’s teeth into his sausage separating the
skin from the meat – sam the cat sat satisfied by his slightly sub-standard meal

the sausage supplier slid his hand suddenly through his shirt and checked his stomach

satisfied with his set meal he sandwiched the seven remaining sausages between salt bread saving it for sunday.

sleep suggested itself – so safely sitting suspended in his sleeping bag – he and the cat napped.

Spider

 

SPIDER

Swiftly – yea – hurriedly – yea – at top speed
Rushing on – headlong

‘Into the valley of death rode…’
the buzzing bee

Swiftly – yea – hurriedly – yea – at top speed
Rushing on – headlong

[The bee contaminated by web
Could not escape no matter how he tried
He buzzed and buzzed with intermittent rest
But could not escape from that sticky mess]

Entanglement – confusion no doubt

Buzz-ing –
his sting –

neutralised
by spider avoidance

He eventually buzzed no more.
wrapped up like Amazon’s best
and left for later digest

The spindly legs – moved on
Retreating
for another
catch of the day

Stop this poem!

I don’t like spiders anyway

Teeth Care

TEETH CARE

Squeeze the tube and lay it on
The toothpaste – smell it’s uniqueness
Across the brushy surface

Now housed in the teeth
It meets no opposition as the
piano-tooth keyboard is played
to mouth’s open-and-shut accompaniment

Now the taste dwells all-encompassing
Held precariously to regurgitate cleanliness
All encompassing gums and mouth-side
while it abides

Until that moment
when it waterfalls onto the basin’s whiteness
And the mouthwash-cavalry come
to finish what has begun

‘Good boy – good boy
Mum is pleased!’
Or so the memory goes
Taught well –
in – non-mechanical elbow grease

– the adult hasn’t gone electric yet.

Here They Sit

HERE THEY SIT

Here they sit on the griddle
Here they stand on the launchpad
Some dribbled out
Others asserting themselves
with immediacy

But there they are
No two the same – multiple layers
or Single-sentenced-stabs
At capturing a thought
Moment or emotion

Resident on the digital desktop
Before they journey on
And typed with the same fingers
that once used a pen

Classified not
Deliberated over to some degree
Changed and re-hashed – rarely

But here they are – ready to fly
Ready to intrude into your life
Welcome-matted
or reluctantly read

They will be around
‘til time ceases
Thoughts from a mind
In language form

You will take and inwardly digest
or quickly dismiss

It’s a funny ol’ world
When it comes to
tastes and preferences
for certain types of

poetry…