Tag: poem

Poetry submissions

I am going for it with my poetry submissions this year.


So far there are 3 pamphlets with different publishers (still waiting to hear back).


7 poems have been entered in competitions (no results – but two are going to be published by City Limits Publishing in the USA).


12 to journals (5 rejected, 1 accepted and printed in The Journal, 6 no news yet).

I will update as I hear more on each submission.

Another Covid19 poem

Keep safe folks

 

Isolation

ultimately got the better of my

protracted period of procrastination.

Penned poems for the first time in an age.

Words filtered from brain fog by my living room cage.

 

Stranded on the sofa, all by myself

in my effort to maintain our national health.

I usually do not bother composing with rhyme,

but sod it, I put in the effort while doing the time.

 

The television presenter tells me “shops are manic”,

but I didn’t rush out to spend cash in a panic.

I have sufficient food, plenty to eat

and ample stocks of toilet paper    –    one shit per one sheet.

 

I am bored, but contented. Snug and safe in here,

because

I had the foresight to stock up on my favourite

beer.

IMG_6639

It has been a while…

COVID 19 has taken a grip on the world. I haven’t written anything for a while – but here is a poem… Isolation

 

Isolation

ultimately got the better of my

protracted period of procrastination.

Penned poems for the first time in an age.

Words filtered from brain fog by my living room cage.

 

Stranded on the sofa, all by my self

in my effort to maintain our national health.

I usually do not bother composing with rhyme,

but sod it, I put in the effort as I have the time.

 

The television presenter tells me “shops are manic”,

but I didn’t rush out to spend cash in a panic.

I have sufficient food, plenty to eat

and ample stocks of toilet paper    –    one shit per one sheet.

 

I am bored, but contented. Snug and safe in here,

because

I had the foresight to stock up on my favourite

beer.

Blog Twenty Eight: A poem – Armistice​ 100

Not much to say, the idea for this came whilst observing the two-minute silence yesterday to mark Armistice Day.

Armistice 100

 

The silence shines in clear air.

Two minutes feels insufficient

after 100 years, but 120 seconds

march slowly, with due respect.

 

The sky hangs bright, a blue

that rejoices in freedom.

Heroically parading alongside

a proud sun, hanging low with

fresh morning reverence.

 

Colourless November leaves

make a last stand, holding

their positions, fighting

to the end, honouring

the fallen.

 

Faint solemn birdsong

reinforces the sense

of peace, ensuring

the day will always be remembered.

 

Blog twenty two: A poem – #BirthdayBlues

So yesterday, Sunday – 16th September, was my birthday. So I wrote a poem about getting another year older – this is a true story, honest!

#Birthday blues

On this day in the 1960’s
I was born.
On this day last year
for a wind up,
my wife presented me
with Anti-Aging Cream for Men
Tongue-in-cheek?
Ironic? Mocking?
Perhaps useful?

‘Thought you could do with this,
become Peter Pan’,
she sarcastically said,
suppressing a snigger,
which was given away by the hilarity
in her laughter lines,
which heightened the brilliance
of her those dazzling blues eyes,
that I am a sucker for and
that forever and always dupe me
and discover different ways
to get the better of me.

I forced ‘thank you my darling’
through my clamped shut mouth
and firmly clenched teeth (still my own),
and decided to let her off the hook.
But hey,
I thought,
I’ll have a tinker.
And I used the cream.
Every morning after my shave
and steaming shower (and the other of the s’s).
And even some evenings
before Horlicks, bonk, book and bed.
And I don’t mind admitting
that it felt good,
I felt better!

Today I woke up
I did my standard, daily three s’s
and I used the cream again,
and I looked in the mirror
and I did the math.
I worked it out, the bloody stuff hasn’t worked.
I am now 52.
I have emailed and tweeted
the maker with a complaint.

     “This ointment, this lotion
     of irony, has me in a dated dither.
     It is devoid of mockery
     or even of use, I feel like Smee
    crying real crocodile tears.
    Yours sincerely
    sad and somewhat older
    from Sussex.
    #BirthdayBlues”

Blog twenty one: A poem – Small ads #1. Hole for hire

A bit pointless? Perhaps. Daft? Yes. The first in a very occasional and even more at random series of ‘small ads’….

Small ads #1. Hole for hire

As used by the Highways Agency,

versatile and reusable,

easily fitted and emptied.

Can be left unattended.

 

Perfect for storing valuables

or loved ones (of any shape or size),

ideal for family gatherings & parties

and it will fit well under most makes

of popular patio paving.

 

Available in a wide

choice of colours,

with refills.

Highly recommended for

burying treasure.

 

Can deliver.

Blog nineteen: A poem – Hunger

A little bit of a rant this morning, a little pop about the state of the world. A world where too many people don’t get enough to eat. And….. well read the poem and you will get the gist of my thoughts and where I am coming from.

There is also a bit of a nod here to Patti Smith and Crass.

 

Hunger

I will try not to use the F-Word,
but…

Listen up Christian Aid!
Here’s an idea, just a suggestion.
Let’s wipe out world hunger
with some divine, dinning intervention.

What about that Bethsaida take away yarn?

Check out your Messiah back story,
see how easy 5000 were fed.
The holy Gospel cook book says
‘take some fish and a little bread’.

Scribble a simple shopping list
and nip down to your local JesusSava –

Prepare a few value loaves, medium sliced
and if the collection plate can afford,
some tins of Tuna chunks (in brine).
Mix with a prayer and a stir from your lord.

Job done!

Crack open the home brand spring water.
Blend with a nod to the font and some beatification.
What a treat, the faithful can raise a glass to
pious intoxication.

Hey presto –

The hungry can join you in a toast, with finest
House (of God) wine.
Just make sure they are thankful,
saying grace while they wait in line.

‘For what many don’t receive……’

The almighty’s vision
has got almightily contorted.
Created in his image? Then why
is the picture so distorted?

I see –

Poverty vs. Wealth
Hunger vs. Obesity

Who is the sinner?

God? Humanity? Voracity?

Surely with your god behind you
cooking up some heavenly charity
it’s easy to feed more then 5000,
behold the miracle of global parity!

The hungry die for greed’s sins, not mine!
Compassion dies for corporate sins, not mine!
Millions die for God’s sins, not mine!