Categories
poetry

The pigeon

Tabby got bored , clearly
but not soon enough
as the feathers attest
, left me with you
a sorry looking bird
no art in flight
no sheen or shine
or rare seen Kite
but boring, common ,
pigeon grey
looks up at me
all sideways askew
a strange look
a bob or two
towards a bush
then bob away,
maybe just
without a wing,
not a prayer to fly
So wobble a bit, try
to unload or confuse
the two , maybe three
fat black flies, alive, still
their patient hanging on
waiting for Nature’s curse to kick

…superior like a lord
over all I survey
until the words from Early
and Dementia , pretty soon
I’ll look as stupid
and dead , as you

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

The Suitcase

Just when you’ve squeezed
the last tiny bit back,
then sat on it, stood on it,
pleaded then kneed it, over-
-bursting the seams until belted and bound,
the time for no more, surely
a long push passed, then,
only then,
a vital cog, finally found
with odd shaped sides, the sterilising kit,
for the latest child

I sigh, with a hopeful look
Other child, yawns, resigned,
his job, he states, “is just to drive’
and then, “remember?”
as if I could forget.
A row to rue.

Eyes to the ceiling,
a silent protest, ( ignored )
as start the unwrap
of cheapest, his purchase,
stuck sticky brown tape
an ever reluctant prise, (for a woman)
frenetically freed, and finally
ex-mummified case, ready
to refill again.

After hands and knees,
a numbing derrière
we’re packed again,
minus heels and a skirt
thoughtfully lined
with bits of a shirt,
his, he won’t miss
bursting through holes,
here and there, thinking,
please don’t drop this,
or leave in a puddle,
my sunny vacation,
spent on a rack, or balcony, drying

And just for a second, was there
staring at endless shores, and perhaps
( close your ears, little one )
enjoying an Italian?

Not sat on a floor
in rain soaked here,
with a grumpy Greek.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Alpha

As the man says,

there’s only one winner

in love, never try

to patch things up

with well-meaning words,

I’m bored of this double life,

single cream, easier to swallow

taken what I need,

not enough

to scratch this itch

need a man with means

not a boy with dreams

someone to pamper,

not hamper, full stop.

No point lying,

trying to dress them up

feel better than they really are,

were they really that sharp

I’d be staying, not straying

displays of loyalty

just not what they need, 

the inevitable is,

and don’t look back, 

euthanise, quickly 

before soothing moods, worm

and warm, fertile comforts

change your mind

slip on the slippers,

pipe and hat…

Normal, ordinary, 

insanity for this, sensually

a negative charge, nothing

I crave less, 

no drug can replace 

what’s missing,

adventure, the missing gene,

no money, no trinket

in all the world,

when between the ears

is tumbleweed, drifting.

So,

what starts with a swipe

turns to a tumble

ends with a chain 

to the bed, around 

sweet neck,

and a text,

“it’s not me, it’s you,

we’re done, “.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

Categories
poetry

Reduction by Seduction

Tammy was no twiglet
And Patricia, pretty plump
Rotund, Rebecca’s nickname
Harsh, but true, she was a lump

Every Tuesday they would meet
At Debbie’s Donuts, for a chat
perhaps a Cappuccino
With a healthy little snack

One day ‘two ton’ Terry
Nearly true, but also cruel
Chomping Debbie’s bargain butty
Eyed this small but weighty crew

Announced himself, with a belch
His humour knew no bounds
handed each, a simple card
“Magic Diets” could be found

‘Reduction by Seduction”
Was the one that caught the eye
As Terry quickly pointed out
“’Twas one to one, that diet”

Patricia’s hand was first to raise
The teeny tiny flaw
Why, if magic diets worked so well,
did Terry’s weight not fall?

“The point you raise is true of course
None such has worked for me
These plans are just for ladies
Not a man, like I, you see?”

Tammy, brave, was first to try
And followed Terry back
A little gap between the terrace
Almost hid the simple shack

They squeezed in both, just through the door
And settled down to Tea
Then later on the bed they sat
His hand upon her knee,

His chant, eyes closed, “O God of Lard
I ask, look on my lover
And as we bounce upon this bed
Please remove her blubber “

Eight hours had passed, and all was quiet
Apart from Terry’s snores
When Tammy woke, a skinny lass
With sweat from every pore

From Terry’s doze, the question clear
My dear, how can this be?
“While you’re a little dove, my love
I’ve gained a stone or three

The fat you lose, it seems to go
on me, I know not why
A kind of magic spell I sell
That only femmes can buy”

Terry’s fame grew quickly
As did his mighty frame
His doctor said “you’ve got to stop”
But still he loved again

At fifty stone, was trapped “in house “
Our curvy Casanova,
Still the belles, would waddle in
And trade to trot out thinner

As all good things, it had to end
One day and sad to say
The biggest heart had too much fun
And gave out as he lay

Because deceased was twice most men
His corpse became a curse
No coffin fit, so custom built
A lowly truck the hearse

They tried to dig the grave with men
But as this grave got bigger
‘twas clear mere spades would take too long
So had to fetch the digger

His funeral was a sad affair
Though feast for flower sellers
The mourners, girls all very slim
beneath their black umbrellas

The weeping women watched and wailed
As lowered down his chest
No men could lift this mighty box
So’d hired a crane instead

Halfway through, the rope was frayed
Gave a sigh and snapped
The coffin wedged, his feet stuck out
The vicar screamed as trapped

The little digger saved the day
On caterpillar tracks
Put body back and chained the chest
With cables now attached

As people tried to say their piece,
Machines were much too loud
And all they got was bits and bobs
As winched him to the ground

The vicar said a few more words,
His arm all in a sling
And finally, a little late
They got poor Terry in

The moral of the story, Eat!
Drink lots and don’t be slimming,
Not the digest does the damage
Just don’t date with dieting women

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!