Allotments

ALLOTMENTS

I don’t have the country

Nor cousins to visit and drink lemonade

no landscape to yearn for when stuck

in a red brick wilderness

but I have a key to another heaven

another kingdom without

government taxes and power

who’s patron saint is Percy Thrower

where I can disappear like a rabbit down a hole and

appear in

the allotment

my fields my trees my bush my jungle my shanty town

my rough paths of upturned wheelbarrows

entrenched forks abandoned spades

casual work lazy days smokey roll up afternoons

where a few chickens share the sunlight

sloping sheds that dance in all weathers

swaying plastic barrels will always have a drink

heart is where the allotment is

mine ‘s as big as a cabbage when there

the neat surrounding gardens

that border my kingdom tut tut in scorn

‘those dreadful shed people’

but these tidy neighbors

lack a certain unruly charm

a unique voice a grounded air an allotment

away from congestion and concern

ant like toil and consumer care

no dull anthem here but bird song

a joy for the eyes and a lift for the spirit

I don’t have a country but an eccentric

sanctuary an allotment

an escape hatch from the town roar

you only hear when the city score

where everything quietly grows

in rows to ripen when nobody knows

to find my country look in the town

but it’s a secret kingdom an allotment

if you go through it’s gate

shut it !

Just Do It

Watching birds makes me happy.
I know they don’t care.
They just eat all the seed
Then they take to the air.
But they do me no harm
And I know if I could
Fly away
Just like them
Then I would………..
Well I might…………
Probably wouldn’t really…………
Oh just shut up and feed the birds.

Right Now

I know that I feel nicer when I’ve spicy food inside of me I find that I feel finer when my furry feline fusses me It’s likely I’ll feel lovely if I live and love wholeheartedly I can tell I feel terrific when those troubles aren’t to mind And I kind of feel contented when I’m cosy on my own But I bet I’m even better when I get a letter from a friend. Write soon.

Tuesdays (Connection).

I feel better when I let a regret go; When I make a selection And I choose a direction, And when I find a connection. I feel better when I let a regret go; When I shake preconceptions By overcoming rejection, When I face an objection But they make an exception. And when I find a connection. I feel better when I let a regret go; When I relive a section Of a loved recollection. When I hide my inside, and I’m evading detection, When I see my reflection And embrace imperfection. I feel better when I let a regret go; When there’s garbage collection. (Tuesdays) I feel better when I find a connection.

Say —

Say —

at a bus-stop, waiting on your own,
a day of dulled cloud, almost rain,
your mind tuned to an inner moan
of life being too much grey, again.

And, say, your only company’s
a straggling hedge, a litter bin,
the road’s dirt edge, some scrubby trees,
a cold wind sanding down your skin.

But your eye wanders, say, and there’s
damp holly, leaves like gleaming glass,
wet-bottle-green; its brilliance shares
a flash-light quiver in the grass

so, looking harder, say, you see
a blackbird’s eye, his orange bill
deep in the dandelions, three
fat daisies, one late daffodil

then start to match all this to words,
your own to catch, exact – but how?
the glittering laughter of the birds?
the noise of yellow here and now?

The bus turns up. Your mind’s alive –
making, remaking: words that sway
and dance and shine, and yours to drive
forward and eager. Share them, say?

The Day Fades Away

I feel better when I am awake and it’s dawn not sunset. So the day hasn’t faded and drifted away. As you can never know with my dolly mixture of prescribed pills for the body and mindsets. So a quick coffee mischievously laced with brandy and just one cigarette. This old man has allowed himself to avoid being upset. After medication it’s time for transcendental morning mediation oh to possibly float above the floor,without my body aching or mutter Buddhist mantras, dance Sufi trances,chant Rosicrucian secret practices or maybe Mindfulness: focus on a leaf for a while and find an inner smile. Busy afternoon then dusk : created to call children home and the aged to ruminate and reminisce. Night time comes, so there is the promise of tomorrow! Then I can stamp and smack my worn warm boots in the snow leave my cosmic footprint forever in returning cold. Find some warmth in the fading of the day that has been given and that’s when I feel better when I am ….

Running Wild

Running Wild.

I feel happy when I look and see …

Flowery meadows and the humming bee.

Snowdrops heralding winters’ demise,

Daffodils golden, grouping in choirs.

Crocus sprinkled like stars in the grass,

Bold coloured Tulips appearing en mass.

Buttercups, Daisies speckling the verge,

Cow-Parsley stretch up, flowers emerge.

Cornflowers gently blowing in the breeze,

Dandelions, grasses prompting a sneeze.

Indigo Linseed and Lavenders glow,

Spiky Hawthorn with it’s blossom like snow.

Wild poppies flourishing in the upturned ground,

All sights inspiring Happy Paintings, I’ve found.

I Am

On a billboard
black shining hair
crisply parted
and bright blue eyes
with a wide smile
shout perfection.
I am not buying it.

On a newscast
dirty brown clouds
explode skywards
vicious killing
heartless maiming
ruthless wrecking.
I am sad and angry.

On a plaza
amongst a crowd
a face shows fear
I point the way
reassured now
he proceeds home.
I am pleased to have helped.

On a third date
linked together
laughing as one
playful teasing
leads to flirting
and future plans.
I am at last in love.

MATCHDAY

MATCHDAY
MATCHDAY LOOMS

OVER THE CITY

FOOTBALL FANS TOSS AND TURN WITH INSOMNIA

ALL OVER THE LAND

THEY WAKE UP WASH AND PULL ON THEIR BELOVED SHIRTS

THEY KISSS THE BADGE WITH PRIDE

THEY LIVE FOR IT

EAT IT DRINK IT TALK IT

ANXIETY RUNS THROUGH THE SCARF

WITH A STRANGLE LIKE GRIP

NERVES JANGLING HEAD TO TOES

THE TOWN IS AWASH  WITH DRUNKEN FRENZY

AGGITATED MINDS ROLL THROUGH THE STREET

SADNESS RULES THE MIND OF THE HOOLIGANS

TABLES AND CHAIRS FLY DOWN THE ROADS

MOTHERS AND CHILDREN CRY WITH FEAR

THE BLUES AND TWOS SORT IT OUT

AND SLAM THE DOOR SHUT

THE FAITHFUL STRUT DOWN THE HUSTLE BUSTLE STREET WITH JOY

CLOSE TO THE GROUND EXCITEMENT RUNS THROUGH THE VEINS

HAPPINESS COMES FROM THE SUN

THE TURNSTYLES RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE

THE PLACE IS BUZZING

THE BEER IS FLOWING

THE SONGS HAVE STARTED

THE CHANTERS ARE CHANTING WITH PASSION

EVERYONES IN THEIR SEATS

EXCITED ANTIPITATION FILLS THE AIR

THE FANS ARE WARMING UP

SINGING SONGS TO RILE THE OPPOSITION

IT SEEMS LIKE HATRED WITH ANNGER

TWENTY MEN CHASE THE LEATHER

THE CROWD ARE GOING CRAZY

TO A FRENZY

CITY SCORE A GOAL

THE HOME CROWD GO BESERK

ECSTACY AND JOY FILLS THE STADIUM

CITY WIN THE GAME ONE GOAL TO NIL

THERES NO NEED FOR A NARCOTIC PILL

THE DRUG IS FOOTBALL AND FOOTBALL IS A DRUG

AND EMOTIONS RUN WILD

GLUG GLUG GLUG

Bee

Bee
wings

like invisible

shields. Bee hive

body like a tiger – striped

fur. God of life and carnations

pollinating seeds. Tribe of warriors

killer bees, boxers of venom, sting

like a bee, float like a butterfly.

Aliens of rare species. I was stung when I was 27,

on Narbourough Road, near Enderby –

bee, bee, bee. It was painful,

swelling in my hand. I tried to kill the bee

I still like them

I bear no ill will

Sun angels in spirit

buzz around the sun

Rainbow bees of creation

Seeing Red

Seeing Red

Bees see all colours except the colour red.

Does the colour red present danger to bees?

Do they feel it’s a threat to their domain?

They are active agents in the insect world,

pollinated and thriving in the thoughts of summer.

They produce the most delicate of honeys

profusely flying, a secret host, never seeing red.

This Year

This Year

I’ll be waking up at the crack of dawn.

Two laps jogging round the park. It’s time to say

goodbye to that low frequency of fear of procrastination.

Tim to raise V vibration. I’ll rewire my brain.

Existing in a higher state of mind.

One that expresses love not fear, a positive outlook.

I shall spread that love like

butter on hot toast. Bringing light to the darkness

Injecting hope in the faithless. It really is

the only way to spend your life.

We are all in the pursuit of happiness.

Starting Again

Starting Again 
Pluck up your courage.

Don’t be afraid of the change.

Knock on the door and if it doesn’t open

break the knocker and push it in.

In the past bereavement and self-doubt

but now I’m heading for the high

and new achievements like a pioneer.

The warmth of my breath will melt the mountain

and the tremor of my feet will open the path.

All those people who tell you

can’t take their words and knit a scarf.

Don’t let them win.

Bed

Bed.
Dark, peaceful at the top of the house

it lies there, its soft bulk, mother lap.

The comfort of birds resting in nests,

sucks in all tiredness, takes off weight

I float like a feather,

enter the world of seraphim.

The thick plank

decorated with colorful quilts

making me drowsy,

once I tuck in.