Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The first day of spring where a coat is not needed

Plimsoll feet skiffle
through littered
blossom as it falls,
catching in hairstyles
and sneaking into pockets.
Leaves whisper softly,
warmly,
a calmer way of speaking
than when fending off cold.
Bare arms steady themselves
and the gold hairs ruffle,
unsure of what to do without goosebumps.
Wysteria, warmed by sun
is leaning from a whitewashed wall,
emanating its sweetshop smell,
all Monet lilacs and
looking like grapes.
Sounds occur,
like small aircraft buzzing through
the blue,
or children in a playground
and you wonder whether
you hear them at all in winter.
The air is soft
like apricots
and you keep your jacket
tucked under your arm.

Pygmy Giant

Hello folks,

I have just had a poem of mine, 'Wallpaper', published on the delightful Pygmy Giant. Check it out!

http://thepygmygiant.wordpress.com/

Many thanks to TPG for putting it up :)

Ray x

Friday, April 23, 2010

Twice-baked potatoes

I come home and
you are making
twice-baked potatoes and
it smells
so homely and
so wholesome and
you turn round and
wipe
your hands on your trousers and
we have a potato-scented kiss and
we pour red wine and
I slosh it about a bit and
pretend to be like Oz Clarke
or something and
you are laughing and
we sit and
eat and
agree how annoying it is when
Coronation Street isn't on because
of the football and
then there's cups of tea and
biscuits from the christmas tin
we still haven't put away yet and
at night when you're sleeping and
I'm awake for once and
I can hear foxes outside our window
shuffling through our rubbish
so it makes me think there's someone out there
I watch you so close to
make sure you are breathing and
I touch you on the side because
I know you find that comforting and
you stir, and
I feel safe again and
the foxes get bored as we never really
throw any food out do we?
I drift into sleep
while the night freight trains
skim past our window
with their smooth warning sound that
rattles the walls.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

P.D.A.

There is a cello on the Jubilee line.
He is standing tall,
chest puffed out,
all smooth and smarmy,
all Nigel Havers, all
Yes,
I'm a cello.
A small child looks up with saucer eyes
at the petite woman holding
him.
She caresses his smooth,
black
Batman-chested
case of a body,
all muscles and brawn.
People look away,
stare into their paperbacks,
look intently at their fingernails
on the grimy handrails
or notice themselves in the
opposite windows.
The cello woman sways,
her floral dress flutters flirtily,
she sways
and gives her body into him.
Above the clatter and din
of the 8.48 from Canning Town
you'd swear you could hear the
low
grumbling
twang
of his strings.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

The paper boy who never grew up

Willy was a paper boy.
He started off at 13 years
so he could buy an Atari
and by the time he’d saved up
no-one had Ataris anymore but
he could escape in his room
and be somebody else.
He’s pushing 35 now
and his mum calls from her
threadbare chair,
up the stairs
“You won’t ‘ave any friends Willy.’
He wants to save up for a
Nintendo Wii
and make friends with people
so they can come round and
play tennis and
bowling and
baseball
like they do on the adverts.
But she’s right,
and it started at school when
he didn’t think to say
‘The name’s Bill’ or
‘Will’ or
anything,
and he didn’t understand why
they were calling him Dick all the time,
he just did not understand.
He’s still delivering papers,
up early,
out before the sun,
and he trips the light confused
and he knows he could have more
but the truth is he is
frightened.
He keeps on delivering on,
his giant yellow bag
causing permanent slouching
and a series of pressure headaches
but he keeps on,
posting papers like,
like only he knows how.
At 7.34 every morning
he passes a girl,
every day,
every day for two years,
she must be
getting a regular bus or something
and she decided to smile at him today
and Willy,
he doesn't know he isn’t doing the right thing
and his mum will never get out of that chair now,
and he will never find those friends,
but Willy was never
told right from wrong.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Fat Quarter


A non-poetic update from me:

I have just had a short article published on the gorgeous website Fat Quarter -

http://www.fat-quarter.co.uk/archives/1192

I hope you enjoy it. Have a look around the rest of the website too, for it is a place of wonder and awesomeness.

Big thanks to the very lovely Katie Allen @ Fat Quarter too for letting me say my piece :o)

Ray x