Changing Viewpoints


 

Over the years my faith has crumbled,
Eroded by a lifetime of disillusion.
There behind its once strong front,
I found my atheism hiding.

Now as I watch my atheism erodes,
Piece by piece it is worn down by time.
As it is chipped and falls away,
I wonder what will be exposed beneath?

 

Advertisements

Peaches the Goldfish


 

 

 

In my clear plastic travel pod,
I’m spun and commented on.
It appears I’m just so cool,
Teenage mouths gape and drool.
Maybe if I was a human child,
The press would go really wild.
But nobody thinks I’ll need help,
All alone on the top shelf.
A brief novelty now a chore,
Listening to my owners snore.
But this isn’t my worse worry,
As I was named in a hurry.
Despite the justifying speeches,
Why oh why call me Peaches ?

I was travelling home the other day and chanced to observe a group of young girls proudly displaying their latest acquisition. In a small plastic bag swam a goldfish. Fascinated I couldn’t help but hear their group of friends getting really excited about this “sick ” purchase and so inspired I put pen to paper. The fish’s fate is unknown but I hope it isn’t the one in the poem.

Mowing


Across the road is
A lawn that’s the biz.
Day and night
It’s tended right.
So its sheen
Is verdant green.
The owner’s sweat
And don’t regret.
The time spent
Or where it went.
To make their lawn
Neatly shorn.

Whereas my grass is lost
Among the moss.
Dandelions and weeds
Are king and queen.
The borders
Are disordered.
Whisking the mower
Over and over.
Ignoring my machine’s rattle
I do battle.
The lawn will be there
When it’s as short as my hair.

Mowing the lawn and doing the gardening continues to inspire me which is bizarre as it is certainly my least favorite job next to my real day job ! However whilst out massacring mowing the front lawn I was struck by how some people really put a lot of effort into the simple art of lawn maintenance (except me! )

 

Writer’s Block.


Children’s TV while much-loved
Can be very distracting
And not very convivial
When it comes to writing.
Olive the octopus
Whilst delighting my daughter
Make me put down my pen
And pick up a cross word.
All the while
Trying to get
That catchy theme tune
Out of my head.

 

When your off work enjoying a long sunny bank holiday and rescuing the garden from the ravages of winter the old creativity tends to take a bit of a back seat. Children’s TV doesn’t help either.

DDO Cast 214


DDO cast 214 is up and ready for downloading/listening, this week I wax poetical with help from Ihmhi about multiclassing and lend my voice to an advert !

ddo poetry corner 34

Partial Nudity in Birmingham.


It’s a sign of the good weather that the world , well Birmingham anyway has decided it’s time to air their pale winter limbs !

Strolling down Broad Street
As the sun peeks out,
The pale flesh appears.
White arms blink,
As sleeves are discarded.
Around the cathedral.
Skirts are hitched up
Leggings discarded,
While the Bishop averts his eyes.
My arms join the throng,
As bustling through the Bull Ring
I don sunglasses.
Trying in vain
To hide my beer belly
So as not to scare the sun away.

DDO cast episode 213


Episode 213 of DDO cast is ready for download , this week hear me insert my tongue gently in my cheek and give praise to the Premium perspective podcast segment.

ddo poetry corner 33

Beer, it’s just liquid bread really isn’t it ?


 

 

My medical results came the other day,
They were a sorry sight to behold.
The Doctor looked at me and sighed,
“Son you might not live to be old.
Your cholesterol is high,
Your blood pressure is low,
Your heartbeat erratic,
And your pulse quite slow.
You need to start taking exercise
Perhaps try a sport as a hobby?”
“Doctor,” I said ,”that’s not possible.
Sports really not my cup of tea.
Just look closely at those results doc
Tell me why I can’t follow your advice?”
The doctor rescanned the paperwork,
And his eyebrows began to rise.
“It can’t be, it’s impossible,” he spluttered.
“But your sport gene has withered and died.
I really must confirm these results,
Tell me what sports you have tried?”
“Well doc I didn’t get a kick out of football,
And why people play cricket I’m stumped.
Golf’s really just not for me,
I even get tired playing top trumps.
I’ve certainly never tried rugby,
And darts just seems pointless,
Swimming made my heart sink,
Why even walking gives me stress!”
“My dear boy you must try something,
You can’t just sit and mope.
There must be some sport you do like?
Something with even which you can cope?”
“Well I enjoy a short walk to the pub doc,
Where I might jump the queue at the bar.
Then I’ll give my pint arm a workout,
But I don’t like to take things to far!”
I think this upset the good doctor,
He said,” your future isn’t bright.”
So I left his surgery quite sharpish,
And popped into my local for a pint.

Ode to my Daughter


I think about the future.
As I wrestle you into your vest,
Will we be battling some more?
Will I be allowed a short rest?
Will your octopus like wriggles,
That throw off  the bedclothes.
Turn into octopus twists of logic,
Bringing us to mental blows.
How can I say no to a tattoo,
When I have two of my own.
Will it break my heart as well,
If that boy never phones ?
Can I be the cool father ?
The one kids all thinks great.
The one who buys you beer,
And lets you stop up late.
I think about the future,
As I wrestle you into your vest.
As long as I spend it with you,
I don’t care if I never rest.

 

Gout: The Toecano.


Will someone quickly amputate my toe,
And quench this digital volcano.
Before the heat flowing from below,
Burns my duvet with its flow.

I don’t care if you use a knife or saw,
Just amputate quick, don’t pause,
In this worthwhile good cause,
Before I scream myself hoarse.

Driven by pain I hobble on my foot’s side,
As to the bathroom I limp and slide.
With a burning tow that brightly shines,
Acting as my lamp and guide.

I quickly turn on the cold tap,
And plunge my toe into the bath.
Steam rises and I at last relax,
My toecano is doused at last.