Happy Sixth Birthday to Me – Have Some Iron Poetry


So another year has passed making it six since I launched this site, have a down beat to celebrate,

Iron Age

I wield my pen with an iron grip
A poetical blacksmith.
Hammering at white-hot ideas
Beating them into submisison
Beating them into rigid words and verse
Until as they cool
There forms solid, heavy, rigid
iron poetry.

Which rusts as I watch.

Cursed


When the moon covers his eyes,
the scorned woman with fire on her brow
and hardness in her heart,
approaches the sacred tree.
A white dress hides her black purpose.

Placing a nail with trembling reverence
she drives it into the wood.
Then nail after nail is hammered in
accompanied by her
whispered curse.

Her ex-lover sleeps fitfully,
sweat on his forehead he snaps awake.
Pinned he twists and turns
puncture wounds spreading and
staining.

When he is found he is pale white
a bloodless spirit,
a contorted shell.
His lifeless face imitating
a Noh mask.

In her garden the revenged woman
Buries her hammer and sap
coated nails in a polished
wooden box.
Burying her memories.

For what is left of the night
She sleeps.
The white dress crackles
on the hearth.
Warming her smiling face.

Happy International Day of Happiness


Happy International Day of Happiness, here’s a poem I first wrote in 2011 that still stands true for me today. Apologies to the Sound of Music!

Mayo on chips and strong real ale pints,
New Dr Who and buses arriving on time.
Parcels from Ebay all tied up with string,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Chicken kebabs and strong mocha coffee,
Clean public toilets and treacle toffee.
Pushing my daughter on her new swing,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Time off work and weekends that go slow,
Rainy days so the lawn I can’t mow.
Freshly cooked beer-battered onion rings
These are a few of my favourite things.

When my internet’s down
When my alarm rings
When I’m feeling sad.
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don’t feel so bad.

Things that go Bump in the Night at Southcart Books


Catch me tomorrow at Southcart Books in Walsall as part of their great free event, Things that go bump in the night. I’ll be performing some spooky poems and there will be some great talks from Sage Paranormal.

7 Sure Signs you were born a poet


Courtesy of South Bank Poetry’s Facebook page.

Do Not Disturb


Cantankerous mouldy old bones
Mournfully moan and giggle and groan.
As they reach for the light so slow
Thrusting up through dirt and stone.

These bones were disturbed tonight,
From their rest wraiths take flight.
Spectral figures on headstones alight,
Their twisted forms a nightmare sight.

You didn’t mean to disturb their rest,
Or tread unknowingly in their ghoulish nest.
But these spirits now are vexed
Pursuing you with hellish zest.

You blindly try to start to run,
Praying and screaming for the sun.
But knowing it will never come,
And that your time on earth is done.

Cantankerous mouldy old bones
Return to their dark earthen home.
There to feast under the stones,
You should have left them well alone.

I’ve got 99 problems but a Beer Ain’t One.


I’ve drunk a beer from the north, a beer from the south,
A beer so hoppy it exploded in my mouth.
I’ve drunk a beer from the east, a beer from the west,
A beer so strong it put hairs on my chest.
I’ve drunk a beer that just defied description,
Plus a beer so good it should be on prescription.
I’ve drunk a beer I saw advertised on my TV set
And a beer so new it’s got no name yet.
I’ve drunk a beer for which I just didn’t care,
Then I drunk a beer so good I’ll never share.
I love them all, I love them crazily,
I dream of them at night, then drink them all day.
But there’s just one problem I’ll let you in on son,
I’ve drunk 99 beers,but I still can’t find a perfect one.

Guess I’ll just have to drink 99 more…

 

Dedicated to Walsall Beer Festival where I will be heading shortly

Age


Absent minded I kicked at a stone,
Revealed within
Was a dead eye
Perfectly preserved.
It met my gaze
Staring back at me
Unblinking
Boring into me
Until I petrified.

Life imitates poetry


The Day the Wi-fi Crashed – http://wp.me/p1seFx-1hV

My Wi-Fi has crashed again, normal service will be resumed ASAP  😀

I’m not a Tosser – a poem for Pancake Day


pancake-poem2

click for best quality picture and enjoy your pancakes.