late july


late july ( another fucking poem thing )

it's pebble-dashed upon this day

it's this 'n' that beneath this grey

it's muddled socks so on i plod

as summer seeps & weeps away

it's fading clasps that clutch at straw

it's fledgling flaps - handbags at dawn

it's jumbled gist of in a bit

as ivy climbs & fungi spore

it's overcast & bales of hay

let's stick to facts as branches sway

& almost nod their sort of bobs

the crops concur as oxen neigh

it's mish 'n' mashed again once more

the river's smashed - last night it poured

when cellos pissed & now this mist

as swallows flee & autumn dawns


whether report


whether report ( some sheet )

it might rain cats - perhaps by noon

throughout this isle where roses grow

or chimpanzees or kangaroos

beware that bounce - mind how you go

it could dogs before too soon

down on the streets, upon the roads

& wolves as well & foxes too

as winds join in & howl for show

it may rain frogs this afternoon

or snakes or newts or loads of toads

or cockatoos - the sky's a zoo

so be prepared - no 'expert' knows


monday’s tongue


monday’s tongue ( a quatro-nonrick for all seasons & cheeses )

the car alarms as grey dawn slurps

on nettle tea as puddles chirp

an almost song

of dawdle on

as monday's tongue - it tastes the dirt

the cow remarks in terse excerpts

fluorescently as knee pads jerk

the blow blows free

as bus stops sneeze

& old goats float as leopards lurk

the sun is dark as acorns burp

incessantly & shepherds smirk

but still the swans

they slide along

with shiny ties & ironed shirts

the dog's all bark as curtains shirk

collectively yet blind perk

as bumble bees

they clutch at keys

so possibly - things just might work

( ? )