There was a young man called Paul
Who danced on my garden wall.
My philosophical friend Jane
Said “I do maintain
That Paul will one day fall.
Tag Archives: poetry
Overheated
I wonder
Will the thunder
Come today or tomorrow
And will the rain defeat
This heat?
I wish the weather would break
And the rain
Cool my overheated brain.
For the sake
Of this dry earth and me
I desire
This fire
To cease and set me free.
The Beast In Man
I shower
And make myself respectable for the day
But say
Who has the power
To take the beast in man away?
I find
That many are kind
And that I can be kind in return
For man does learn
That it is pleasanter that way,
But say
Who can take the beast in man away?
When I smile
There can be no denial
That people like me that way,
But say
Who can take the beast in man away?
The Utopians say
That there will come a day
When man will not be this way,
But say
Have they not
Also got
Feet of clay?
When I Die
When I Die
Where will
All these dreams go?
And will I
Be dreaming still?
I do not know.
I Know A Pretty Young Brunette
I know a pretty young brunette
Who goes by the name of Yvette.
Her real name is Kate
And the police just can’t wait
To interview me and Yvette …
I Know A Petite Blonde
I know a petite blonde
Of whom I’m rather fond.
Being in search of romance
I asked her to dance
And we waltzed in her garden pond …
I know a petite blond
Of whom I’m rather fond.
Being in search of romance
I asked her to dance
But she pushed me into the pond!
An Elderly Brexiteer
An elderly Brexiteer called Mia
Said “I have no fear
Of leaving the EU
For the sky tis deep blue!”.
A Remainer named Sue
Made reply
“The sky
Tis turning black
Best take your mack!”.
I sat back
And thought
Ought I
To say “one of you
Does lie
For it can not be true
That the sky
Is both black and blue.
Gossamer
A gossamer belt
I felt
Long ago.
Oh how thin
Is the divide twixt virtue and sin!
A dress it was
Because she called it so.
Her name I do not know
Although I remember the gas fire,
The carpet rough and my desire.
The Glorious Inefficiency Of Local Bookstores
“The elegiac atmosphere is part of the appeal. This bookstore, this artifact from a more literate past, serves as a reminder of values that have, in America, faded like pages in a weathered volume. The small, independent bookstore is simply a place out of sync with contemporary culture, chiefly because its very being emphasizes an appreciation of quietude, romance, and the kind of glorious inefficiency upon which the best of human life rests”.
(http://www.theimaginativeconservative.org/2017/11/local-bookstore-dean-abbott.html).
At the age of 49, (my 50th birthday looms, should that be lurks? Ahead), I can relate to much of the above article. I can recall visiting such places in the company of my late grandfather and browsing. To this day I still relish the scent of bookstores.
Some 15 minutes walking distance from my home, there sits the Bookseller Crow on the Hill, a great independent bookshop, https://booksellercrow.co.uk/. Not only does the Crow stock books, it also carries a range of audio CDs, calendars and postcaards depicting the Crystal Palace and surrounding area.
Independent bookshops are, from the perspective of authors a great place to get one’s books into. Particularly for independent authors, it can be difficult (frequently impossible) to get the big chains to stock one’s work. Consequently I am grateful to The Bookseller Crow for stocking my collection of poems, “My Old Clock I Wind”, http://moyhill.com/clock/. Its good to know that people in the area in which I live can see my books on display in my local, independent bookstore.
Kevin
The Kiss Without Love
The kiss without love.
The glove
Full
Of a dull
Release
Will bring no peace