Saturday, 22 June 2013

Trick of the Hay

Bales of hay deceive the eye,
And look like sheep from far away.

Combobulated by a Spoon

The wart of all the world was on my shoulbers,
As la-la did the fish sing in the trees,
When eh? atop my head there feller doulber,
And “Ouch!” I yellth and stood a pond some bees.
                                                (Ouch! Scream! Whale!)

The wrong place at the wrong place isn’t clever,
You’d best go hunt for meadows on the Moon.
My goodness, blimey friend whence art thou ever,
Congratulated by a sliver spoon?
                                                (Spoon! Spoon! Spoonfork-a-dork!)

Thursday, 20 June 2013

The Wisdom and Insight of Children

Children – they’re so wise. And insightful. Don’t believe me? Here are two genuine examples from school today (no, they are, reallyreallyreally):

Example One

            Child One:     I saw Santa yesterday.

            Me:                 Really? In June?

            Child One:     Yes. He was in Stourport. He’s lost a lot of weight.     

            Child Two:    It was probably just a drunk teenager.

Example Two

Teacher:        So, why is Frank Lampard your ‘Inspirational Person’?

Boy:               Because my Dad bought a Ferrari from him.

Children – proving day-after-day that
you can’t make a silk purse out of Burberry fabric.

Three Random Thoughts

1. I consider emailing all of my friends with I’ve won the Lottery! written in the ‘subject’ space, while the message in the body of the email would read <aside: I haven’t won the Lottery>. I decide not to.

2. There is no weather out in space.

3. Sentimentality: the false homage which indifference pays to genuine feeling, which is why you won’t find me sentimentally waxing lyrical about how wise and insightful children are. If 21 years of teaching has taught me anything… no, wait, it hasn’t.

Wednesday, 19 June 2013


What life is like ain't hard to understand –
A day out at the sea (more good than bad).
The castles which we build are made of sand,
And somewhere in it all  we bury Dad.

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Horse Cow Music

The theme music to Black Beauty is running through my head. It is being chased by Black Beauty.
   Black Beauty has escaped from the music in the Lloyds TSB advert, which has driven her mad. She now believes that she is a cow. 
   Black Beauty notices the change of the weather in my head and lies down with all of the other cows.

The rain plays a tune.

Monday, 17 June 2013

The Disappointment Shop

I walk into the disappointment shop.
Immediately, I am disappointed:
a man approaches me to ask if I
need help. “I’m disappointed,” I explain.
“I would have thought that in a shop like yours
the service would be non-existent, so
it’s rather disappointing that you offer
assistance.” Silently, he hands a card
to me. I read the words inside my head.
The items in this shop are not for sale
at any price. My days of petty theft
have long since passed into the realms of folklore,
so stealing’s not an option as I’d surely
be caught. The shop assistant walks towards
the door and turns the key inside the lock.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he says. “We’re shut.” I ask
if he could let me out. “You haven’t bought
it yet.” I puzzle over what he’s said;
I wonder what the ‘it’ he mentions is,
then see it. Knowing that it can’t be bought
(at any price) I ask if I could hold it.
The shop assistant hands it over to me
(he doesn’t know how clumsy I can be).
We watch it fall upon the ground and smash.

Thursday, 13 June 2013

The Other Half is Figurative

Oh, where are you going, my petal,
   With such an original hat?
When I asked you to put on the kettle,
   I wasn’t envisaging that.
I know that you like to be daring,
   But people might openly laugh,
If you do so insist upon wearing,
   A kettle to go with your scarf.

Oh, where are you off to so late,
   Looking all hip and night-clubbish?
I didn’t mean go on a date,
   When I asked you to take out the rubbish.
I know that you like to snub fashion,
   But people might think that it’s rash,
To engage in a throwaway passion,
   With a bin-liner full of our trash.

Oh, why are you screaming, my poppet?
  By and large, you’re of much finer fettle.
Open your hand. And now drop it.
   Oh, my God – you were grasping a nettle?!     
Look, I know you’re a fool for precision,
   But it makes you take things the wrong way,
So in future please make the decision,
   To ignore half of all that I say.

Monday, 10 June 2013

Tree Paranoia

For BR-B (“How do you know it’s not looking at you?”)

I durst not look
   Upon the tree,
(Its wooden gaze
   Doth follow me).

Sunday, 9 June 2013

Tree Whimsy

I do not look
Upon the tree,
And it, in turn,
Looks not on me.

Saturday, 8 June 2013

Thoughts on Unexpectedly Meeting a Grouse

What a fine, colourful
And people would shoot yer and
   Eat yer?

Thursday, 6 June 2013

Night Walking

     From a clearing,
Waiting for a certain sound.
     Darkness growing,
     Shapeless, flowing,
Over silent, silver ground.

     Whispered only
     By a lonely
Spectre walking through the trees:
     Wordless greeting
     Echoes, fleeting
As a shadow on a breeze.
     Night unravelled
     As I travelled
Back towards my morning bed.
     Did you hear me?
     Are you near me?
Asked the echo in my head.

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

The First Rule

For CB

The first rule of “Stay Silent Club” is that no-one talks about “Stay Silent Club”.

The first rule of “Procrastinate Club” is that no-one gets round to talking about “Procrastinate Club”.

The first rule of “Indifferent Club” is that no-one can be bothered to talk about “Indifferent Club”.

The first rule of “You’ve Been Sent to Coventry Club” is that no-one talks to you about “You’ve Been Sent to Coventry Club”.

The first rule of “Dyslexia Club” is that nowon tlkas aboat “Dislocation Cub”.

The first rule of “Tight Club” is..ish...tha’ no...hic... thing, what? Hash anyone gotta light? What was I sayin’? Fight Club? Wassat? 

The first rule of "Loquacious Club" is that everyone talks far too much about "Loquacious Club".

Tuesday, 4 June 2013

The Universe Replied

I stared up at the January night,
sprinkled with stars whose magic, long-lost light
I still could see, and thought again how far
apart two points which seemed so close could be.

Oblivious to now, I looked around
the sky, astonished at the scale of what I found:
too far! Too wide! The furthest point you see
is still your home, the Universe replied.

Monday, 3 June 2013

Bedside Table Pile-Up

The bedside table pile-up? Books. More Books.
Notebooks. A Kindle. Pencils. T-shirt draped
across a pile of books. New headphones in
a box. An unused biro. Scraps of paper.
A book-inside-another-book. (That book-
inside-another-book? A bookmark.) Mess.

Sunday, 2 June 2013

Bovine Rain-gauge Malfunction

I journey outside and find it hard not to notice that the sun is shining. Sure, there are clouds in the sky and a healthy breeze is blowing, but I still wonder whether my leather jacket is necessary. It isn’t. I carry on wearing it anyway.
   On my way to the lake, I notice that, according to my bovine rain gauge, it should be raining. A lot. All seven cows are sitting down. It should be raining 7/7 of a cow, which, for the meteorologically inclined mathematicians amongst you, means 100% rain. 100% rain, for those of you who are not good at numbers, means as much rain as there could possibly be. 100% rain. That’s a lot of rain. The sun is shining.
   I walk over to the cows and stare at them. The more I stare at the cows’ faces, the more they look like aliens. I wonder if maybe the cows are making an existential statement: “The sun may be shining, but we, the assembled Bovine Rain-gauge, feel rain in our hearts. Weather is just a state of mind. Have a seat.” 
   I check my own internal rain-gauge and learn that it is not raining.
   Perhaps sunshine, healthy breezes and staring at cows combine to breed levity of the soul. Or it could be the result of anti-depressants and a long lie-in.
   I notice that one of the cows is now standing up. 

Dematerializing Cow

It is 4 o’clock in the morning and raining enough for me to put my coat on. This seems to have escaped the notice of the seven cows, all of whom are standing (the idiots).
   I count the idiot cows: one, two, three, four, five, six…? The seventh cow, right there before my very eyes not a second ago, has dematerialized. This is astonishing. Not only have I encountered the first ever duck to attain enlightenment (how else to explain its levitational abilities?), but now I have stumbled across another miracle of nature: dematerializing cow.
   It is an extraordinary discovery and could lead to all sorts of fame-related excitement.
   I count the cows again: one, two, three, four, five, six…? Yes, definitely no mistake, there are only… oh, no, hang on: seven.
   It seems as though dematerializing cow is now rematerializing cow. 
   Wait until the sceptics hear about this. 

Levitating Duck

Walking past the lake, I catch sight of a duck, levitating. I have not seen a duck managing to levitate before, so this is a surprise. Of course, I say levitating. The duck isn’t hovering above the surface of the water in a zen-like trance, as you might imagine (well, as you might imagine if someone introduces the idea of a levitating duck into your consciousness). No, it’s like this: although levitating duck’s feet are partially underwater, you can definitely see his legs, so he isn’t swimming, and unless his feet are resting on a submerged jetty how else can one explain his semi-hidden legs except by some sort of levitation?
   I apply the same rigorous logic when searching for the truth about other impossible things.

If it looks like a figment of the imagination and acts like a figment of the imagination then it’s probably a levitating duck.