…turn over an old leaf
A good evening
all in all.
Neither short
nor tall.
Just right.
Like
Spaniel ears
Or
Tapwater
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: Journal
July 16, 2014
The Beach Boys
Just picture
Over there
In that corner
A grand piano
Made of Blood
Fresh Olive
Slaughtered
Beachboys
July 15, 2014
Loophole
Surly, vexed, mumbling, bumbling,
swallowing down bile and spleen
a small bird hops past on the sill!
A fair coin tossed.
Whist!
A farced chant, grumbling like an alp.
Shannon mare dream
Shrill oboe scream:
Hector! Hold your horses.
The kettle’s finished boiling.
The past will someday
be the same again.
July 12, 2014
Alfresco
Let us
Lay.
Is Samarkand
Pink Samarkand
Under those dishes?
There!
I see
golden onion domes,
rippled & various,
Serrate deep blue.
Above
Kites float
perusing plump shrew
on perfect thermals,
circling empty biplanes
July 11, 2014
Nanette
She
Yellow
Cowled, pock-marked
Pale chuff faced,
Sidles,
Stumbles
Ghostly
Inside Chapel Cell,
Her Holy hidey-hole,
Up the duff,
recently gin & needled
She
dropped like a sock,
and in that drop got
relegated,
denigrated,
emasculated from Herstory,
babeless scrawl on nameless wall.
No net
you see:
no more net
Nanette.
July 8, 2014
Great White Pass On By
Shoulder roller
Savonarola
swimming backwards
In shirt infested waters.
Pause for Jaws:
Basking post-prandial,
Replete of:
Bellyful of Quint,
skinny dipper,
Stray Daytripper,
clumsy nipper.
My luck is in!
Time to try
Some butterfly
July 7, 2014
Escape Velocity
The power set at constant max
Mind’s Eye emerges from start surge to
pure pace
A golden arrow flashes darting past.
Lee J Cobb. Wrong Cobb. Donald?
No, that was Campbell.
Google it, live & learn.
Pull the search engine up,
load it with a boulder, wind it up, and release.
Downwind we hear
no screams or impact
As if it never happened
July 6, 2014
Jesters at Vespers
After Sylvester evensong, Loyola piped up:
‘Out with the Pianola!’
And
(As Nasturtiums have for donkey’s years)
We were ready to kick out the jambs
The Easter Lambs & heaven could wait a quarter
Priscilla the Pig, our Abbot, dressed as Emile Zola
Got the ball rolling with the much lauded Tombola.
A fine thing, like some tradition,
The Tombola of the Tropaeolum:
We put our Bull into a hat
Pull out the winner
And a new year
Doctrine is chosen
A fresh true rumour
To add to the credo
This is followed by
A game of sardines
An eternal favourite
July 6, 2014
Factory Records
I
have neither direct pictorial
nor documentary evidence for it,
my first quarter on earth,
except
what those directly involved have told me,
confirmed by their satellites.
All a bit vague if you think about it
The first thought is adoption,
the second hospital error,
third,
unwanted from a relative or neighbour;
alien invasion,
Son of God,
& Timewarps
follow once you start.
(At least it was not Shandy Hall and its annoying horology).
I
did see my mum from time to time
in her incubated space.
She smiled from hollow cheeks
fought the maggots eating the belly wound
from where I had been sprung.
My dad was shy and did not get pushy
about seeing me till things calmed down a bit.
He did not pick me up and rock me till we got home:
After he did I never cried again, it is said.
July 5, 2014
Bear Dreams
Slumbered awhile,
Wee sunny spell,
Sleepy glimpse
Tucked up flurry
eider-down duvet,
Mink stole furor.
Purr as a bear purrs.
Growl meets rumble:
Grumbles
Rum Bellows
Grimbeau 