The Daily Poem

Day 59

Advertisements

The first of those more “serious” poems I mentioned yesterday. If you like self-indulgence and bittersweet nostalgia this is your week! That said, if you like wordplay and humour and cheeky puns and other childish delights you won’t be completely overlooked either – just check in regularly and take your chances on a lucky dip…    

Something for the Weekend?

This weekend has been filled with small surprises.

On Friday we found ourselves by the sea,
Watching the sky catch fire from our favourite vantage point,
Raising cold glasses to toast the warm evening
While packed-in-ice shellfish from the wet market
Demanded we hurry home.
We left too early, but still found time enough
For sunset and beer.

On Saturday we watched Friday’s clams sizzle open,
White flowers of shell blossoming brown,
Baking in their own juices.
We dripped them with butter and garlic and lemon.
Warm bread,
Cold beer,
Cool breezes.
We cooked potatoes in the dying embers,
Ready for Sunday’s bird, already marinating in the fridge,
The weatherman having assured us there was plenty more to come…

The barbecue has worked overtime:
Four days in a row of summer in spring,
The bank holiday bonus day calling
For more coal and more chicken,
More wine, more song,
More salad, more mozzarella,
More everything.

Good grief!
If only every day could be like this!
We could live in a beach hut, exploring low tides,
Forage for food and beach-bleached fossil fuels,
Cooking on campfires with enough left over
To feed the guests who brought the wine.

The Daily Poem

Day 58

I’ve been in quite a “serious” poetry mood this past week, so that’ll be reflected in the coming week’s blog posts. Not that any of them will take themselves TOO seriously (heaven forfend!) but you, dear reader, might need to invest a little more time to accommodate length, girth and structure as I indulge myself. Today’s poem, by contrast and to ease us into another week, is a teensy-weensy little epigram…   

Swan Lake

The noble swan upon the lake
Doth glide serene and calm
But cross him and make no mistake
He’ll break yer fuckin’ arm

The Daily Poem

Day 57

I rather like this one, which is why I saved it for a Sunday rather than posting it immediately. The other reason I held it back is because it’s a performance poem really, and I wanted to perform it first. It went down extremely well…  

Granny’s Mynah Bird

My granny had a mynah bird
She kept him in her bloomers
She kept him fed with cheese and bread
And pickles and satsumas
He lived in there for twenty years
According to the rumours
But then he died, he died he did,
From aggravated tumours

My granny pined, she missed him so,
‘No bird,’ she said, ‘was finer,
‘I bought him as a tiny chick
‘While travelling in China.’
She swore to us he loved it there,
Her avian panty liner
But we think it was wrong of her
To so abuse a mynah.

***

(first draft)

My granny had a mynah bird
She kept him in her bloomers
She kept him fed with cheese and bread
And pickles and satsumas
He lived in there for twenty years
Until she kicked the bucket
This poem’ s gone a bit astray
I think I’ll have to chuck it.

The Daily Poem

Day 56

The Antidote

Today I made an antidote
A cure for all our ills
No need for vile medicines
No need for drugs and pills
No need for anyone at all
To live a life in pain
An end to all our suffering
We’ll all be well again.

Today I made an antidote
A cure for all our greed
An end to sweatshop factories
An end to want and need
No more dark clouds from fossil fuels
No more polluted seas
No need for plastic packaging
No need for felling trees.

Today I made an antidote
A cure for planet earth
Have you the first idea
What a thing like that is worth?
I sold it for a squillion pounds
And they were glad to pay
It’s kept inside a bunker now
And safely locked away

***

OH – A little extra (possibly divisive) “News in Rhyme” given that today is the big day…

There was a young royal called Harry
Who found a girl, Meghan, to marry
I don’t give a fuck,
I don’t give a fuck,
I don’t give a fuck: GO AWAY…

The Daily Poem

Day 55

I mentioned earlier in the week that my original plan for a Daily Poem has gone a bit agley and that I would be going a bit easier on myself in future. This is a case in point – a poem that may well never fully blossom, because it needs work and I’m not sure I like it enough to put the effort in. I do like the idea of it, though, so perhaps it’s a good thing that it sees the light of day, even if only this once… 

Careful with that Box, Pandora

There is magic in the places where elements meet:
Where land meets sea;
Where sea meets sky;
Where sky becomes space
And is transformed into the backdrop for a hundred-billion stars.

There is magic in the places where elements meet:
Dark, thunderous magic that destroys and reclaims,
Light, healing magic that nourishes and nurtures.

It is there in the whisper of water,
The breath of a breeze,
In the chill of ice and the heat of fire,
And the clash and turmoil and juxtaposition of all things.
It is the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.
It is the blazing sunset at the end of a long day

There is magic all around us,
Waiting, for good or bad, to be discovered.
It comes in many shapes and sizes,
Gift-wrapped, boxed in many guises.
Open with care and stand well back:
You never know what lies beneath the lid