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

( ? )

...



























( as the crowbar flies )

~

( as the crowbar flies ) ( a re-winging of an older post )



there are moors that sprawl

beyond dry-stone walls

where the heather tones

& the lonesome roam


there are fields that gleam

neath the sun's gold beams

where the ragwort hides

& the blank verse rhymes


there are treetops tall

where the woodlark calls

& the oak tree moans

as the old wind groans


there are streams that dream

as the weasels scheme

as the crowbar flies

far within my mind

...


























critique-fodder

~

critique -fodder ( a short poem about motherfuckers )




is this a poem?

how about now?

milk the wild thistle

& tickle the cow


is this a poem?

squint as you read

stroke your chin bristle

& wobble your knees


is this a poem?

what do you think?

blow your tin whistle

& lick at the ink


was that a poem?

how did it fare?

did it ring fizzles

& why should we care?

...












































that dream again

~

that dream again ( some sheet )



feathers for fingers & cat flaps on mars

wanders on venus & clogs in hot cars

florists on calpol & vikings in jars

badgers are strumming on bastard guitars


bishops in crystals & whale song in shoes

bagpipes in black holes & yetis in trews

monday in sunday & tuesday in lieu

saxons are flaxen to addle the muse


light in my left hand & shpherds in bras

strangers in mangers & dogfish in stars

troughs in the peakland & barn owls in bars

march hares are marching through barmy bazaars


voles in old coal mines & cowslips in moos

darkness in sundials & clocks in cuckoos

pole vault the scots pine & tickle the shrew

what does it all mean?

we haven't a clue

...







































plod-stuff

~

plod-stuff ( a true story )



our elbows glowed where noses shone

us muddled bunch so bumble on

through fields of green in sways of still

there is no breeze today upon


us squelchy sods so yon we plod

with thoughts of warts & peas in pods

as badgers burst & gardens groan

whilst on the road - a toad's skin's shod


our ankles itch - is this a gift?

we look to lunch as pollen drifts

we follow paths & fallow deer

as sieve-like minds they gently sift


when all is spun a tune a is hummed

the back door calls, the walk is done

the annals wait to hear of tales

beneath a montomic sun

...











noted

~

noted ( some o’ that )




isthmus shuttlecocks

puddle ducks

christmas socks


citrus speckled logs

paper cuts

chippy chops


aspic pigeon coughs

addled stuff

aftershocks


drastic hoppy scotch

monkey nuts

rabbit hops


listless suckled ox

honey pots

money box


witness muddled lot

lucky shot

ocelot


mastic kitchen pots

tangled knots

fuck the what


bat shit chickenpox

scuttle off

that's shallot

...