Tag Archives: poetry from Liverpool

Pass The Parcel

Whatever happened to jelly and ice cream?

On any child’s birthday the sound of screams and ripping paper

as the parcel gets torn hurriedly with glee across a new seam

and the children’s delight at the once yearly caper.

 

What happened to children being given what they need,

with one really great present  making them smile till Christmas

instead of cutting open a money tree and watching it bleed,

the politics of early consumerism driven in early on mass?

 

It is as if as a society we have said that yes the children our future,

Pass The Parcel full post

(158 words, estimated 38 secs reading time)

The Arrogance Of The British Seagull.

If the thought of the deceitful behaviour resulting in the

unkindness of Ravens, who cackle

in delight as they plot and scheme and smirk during the sentimental speech

at the wake of a buzzard and the hippopotamus  gloating as his bloated

views on such things are taken with a pinch of salt,

then be more concerned for the actions of another,

for the arrogance of Seagulls is absolute.

 

They strut round with conceit and an air of self importance

that belies their place in society. They may not be bottom

The Arrogance Of The British Seagull. full post

(444 words, estimated 1:47 mins reading time)

Failed Intervention

My name is of no importance

as I sit here quietly breathing in dust from the beaten up

old chair you provided me with.

My clothes as crumpled as my un-digestable heart

in this crowded room, where you sit

comfortably and with an air of seething malice wait

for me

to admit that

all you need to know is that I am a poetry addict

and that it has been that way ever thus.

 

The intervention should be hailed a success

for I have gone at least a couple of hours since I

Failed Intervention full post

(294 words, estimated 1:11 mins reading time)

The Haloed Moon

…and Just by chance I looked up at the moon

and saw the false brightly lit orb shrouded by a perfect circle

where clouds had formed separating to make a giant’s eye.

Unblinking, all-knowing, understanding the darkest secrets

of the solitary magpie sheltering in the darkness of the church eaves

and its feathers ruffling, tearing at the bird-like sleep, dozing

dreaming of glittering bauble and fully formed salutes

from passing strangers.

 

The moon is but a mere child’s pebble thrown, ejected with violence

onto a dusty unused sandpit, the hollow crater surrounded

The Haloed Moon full post

(237 words, estimated 57 secs reading time)

Dead Air

It was only by chance

that in my decreasing state of awareness,

of Morpheus’ gradual tightening grip on the synapses

in

my

brain

and the closing down of reason and rational expectation,

that I forgot to switch off the phone

that led to call of desperation being heard.

 

In the darkness of the winter night,

the shrill of Bell’s worst nightmare

woke me from the deepening fugue and of wrestling dreams

and hazily I crawled,

groped and moaned aloud in ever increasing

volumes

Dead Air full post

(203 words, estimated 49 secs reading time)

The Shortness Of February’s Rage.

You are cold to the touch oh moody one.

You offer so much potential but in your sullen distance

You sometimes forget that you are here to have fun

and a different face to your sister’s bleak resistance.

 

Like some petulant teenager rebelling against its parents scorn

you rage and blind, leaving a northern blanket of unfathomable white,

screaming to anyone who listens that you wish you’d not been born

and cursing them for their folly as they gaze upon you with hopeful sight.

 

The Shortness Of February’s Rage. full post

(153 words, estimated 37 secs reading time)

The Medieval Child

The Medieval child, lauded over and acclaimed at the start of the year,

now will show its true colours to the world away

from its long since gone mother’s breast.

The old harridan who succumb to final old age

at the moment of delivery follows her charges fortunes now

as it gears up to become a teenager.

 

The January day is over and Janus rests content for another year

not to have to keep up the pretence of concern or anxiety

of what was before. His young responsibility, now old enough

The Medieval Child full post

(384 words, estimated 1:32 mins reading time)

The Beast Of My Burden (Or One Of Our Gods Is Missing)

They are retiring the reason for loss of faith.

As the bones will be taken down and will never

adorn the main hall in my lifetime, how Darwin must be laughing

at the peculiar notion that my evolution started not with

an ape or a monkey but with a dinosaur and now that beast

of my burden is leaving home, presumed missing.

Eight years old, dressed in green, no badges yet of note earned

and the first of many visits to the Capital undertaken

with a tour and my paid homage

The Beast Of My Burden (Or One Of Our Gods Is Missing) full post

(545 words, estimated 2:11 mins reading time)

The Tin Can’s Last S.O.S.

The devoid of feeling, empty processed pea tin rattles down the street and

pushed along by the banshee like eruption of winds

that beat, beat…beat against the window

pleading to be let in, the tin can, the remnants

of its former glory long since spilled on the Bootle battlefield

shows off its ability to send

out a message in Morse Code to anybody willing to listen.

 

The signal is kept going, the odd momentary lapse

where the wind blasts it up against the side of half

The Tin Can’s Last S.O.S. full post

(249 words, estimated 1:0 mins reading time)

Challenge

We sat back triumphant, but exhausted and overwhelmingly drunk

in a small public bar by Waterloo Station

full of football supporters letting off steam

after their team had lost in the capital again

and part of our collective soul didn’t care,

but the devilish, impish, teasing part thought,

we could wind them up after winning our own battle

with all that sits on the coloured squares and overpriced

bars and a tin of beer outside Holloway Jail.

 

Our own private Monopoly Board challenge.

February 17th 1996 and the first train up from Salisbury

Challenge full post

(624 words, estimated 2:30 mins reading time)