Changing Horizons – Hour Twenty Four

So much changed this year –

My horizons were rearranged

When the fancy new build

Drew curtains across my field of vision

And the old lifeboat station was taken away

Bit by bit,

Day by day,

I can still just about see the ocean,

Pretentiously adorned with several boats on

Like costume jewellery

To gild the lily quite unduly.

The benches punctuate the sea wall

To commemorate Sids and Normans and Arthurs,

People’s brothers and best friends and fathers.

The old lobster pots on the corner mark a chapter break,

But there’s a notice to say somebody will soon take

Those away too

Unless someone raises an objection

With a valid interception.

The pages stacked against the sea soon

Will be all blank

With nothing left to tell a story

Or to really interest me

To be frank,

And that eight mile stretch

To somewhere different

Has me instantly a kvetch –

Oh to be o isolated is such a wretch,

Whatever was I thinking?

It’s enough to set anyone off drinking

Until, inevitably, I am lured back

By another claret sunset

Most magnificent .


Then I’m once again madly intoxicated

By this little scene, which only three hours ago, I hated.


Time Well Spent – Hour Twenty Three

I miss our batshit friendship,

Our crazy ‘third-on-the-right-eighth-on-the-left’ road trips

Our concerts in the park bandstand,

The sense we had the world in our hands,

About to be conquered by our own unique brands

Of madness,

But I’m happy we had this –

\the sky high jinks,

The far too many drinks,

You returning my coat covered in piss….

Even things like that I miss

Because in the moments I’ve

Never been more alive –

Than when every near-miss left me revived,

The kangaroo court

Where, with a great deal of thought,

We’d spent whole evenings deciding what ought

To be the most suitable punishment,

For every recent misdemeanour,

As the evening wore on, growing meaner and meaner.


We, my friend, were invincible

And we paid no mind to anyone inconvincible –

It was time well spent.

A Lady in Waiting – Hour Twenty Two

Her gaze fixed on this aphrodisiacal male,

Taking a tour outside – just outside this frame,

Her hem rising with the edges of her mouth

Skirts caught in a lascivious grasp

Lips now clasped

To erase a gasp.

With her free hand she relies on the table for stability,

Overcome with a burning fragility,

A quickness of breath,

A lust not suppressed,

Her eyes narrow in on her desire,

Her opal skin scorched white by fire,

And a delicate sweat

Dampens the curls on her neck,

As she waits for him

To come in.


Ode to Sergei Polunin – Hour Twenty One

You alone dance away our collective sin

A modern day deity of Ukranian origin,

Who can walk on air not merely water,

For whom a thousand sacrifices freshly slaughtered,

On the alter of your holy martered feet,

Could not begin to make this act of worship complete –

Your grace is envied by every swan and dove –

A majestic poise, knighted by Gods ungloved

Eager to be the blessed ones who touched

The body that can defy mere physics,

That pirouettes its way through limits –

For you, Mr Polunin, are a miracle worker,

One swift movement propels us to bliss and further –

You compelled even Satan to allow your genius,

You performed a pas de deux with his weakness

And left him powerless to resist

Your passion, your power, your turns and your twist –

Even when this Earth suffers your withdrawal,

You will be crowned everlasting, invincible and immortal.



Community Effort – (Based on a True Story) Hour Twenty

Mr Free Cannabis – a name granted to him by the poll of deeds,

Tricked the council into watering cannabis plants for twenty years

After a community effort to contribute seeds,

And give them a new home inside his shop display

Which comprised

Of a bicycle and a trailer hooked up behind –

And became the whole scene of the crime

Where the plants were seized and due to hemp-phobia

He was informed the seeds could no longer grow here,

Despite having featured in the In Bloom awards one year,

Yes – that very same display!

So for Mr Cannabis it was a very sad day,

And all the others who had dropped seeds in the tubs,

To see the end to their much-loved shrubs.


Far Out – a poem to commemorate a Pink Floyd album being the first to be taken to space – Hour Nineteen

One of the most difficult challenges I faced as a cosmonaut

Was to become completely bilingual

A requirement made necessary by the fact that we’d bought

Several craft components from engineers in America

And so if we needed ever to communicate or signal

A fault or some other such esoterica

Then it would be necessary to use fluent English –

The language used in these crazy lyrics

Far more far out than anything we’ve learned about out here –

Just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year

And it’s true – I wish you were here,

Ticking away the hours that make up a dull day,

Floating around our milky way –

But you know honey, why I did it,

You know – money, it’s a hit…

And you know when I come cold and tired

It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire

For I have become comfortably numb

All the way out here, in this space hub.



A Table for Two – Hour Eighteen

A table for two,

Is something quite new –

No longer the lone diner,

Mistaken for a mystery shopper

Or some kind of food blogger,

No – I have company –

Something quite new to me –

And you know, I could make a meal out of you,

Drinking in all that you say and do

You make it seem like the right thing

To move on to duets when dining

I want to hear your stories and theories

Over dinner

And I ought to make it clear for ease –

You’re a winner

I’ll happily end my solitude –

To have you intrude

To pass the salt

And end my revolt

Against love.


What the Addict Added – Hour Seventeen

I’m not certain quite how to adjust to this new level of disgust

That you feel daily without all the drugs

This new clarity that has ended the hilarity

And now it’s all shame and regret and reflection

With the odd painful confession

And sometimes I just

Miss the old you

A taboo.



The Hatter’s Chatter – Hour Sixteen

I’m the hatter, hatter, hatter, hatter, hatter,

Listen to that catter, catter, catter, catter,

He doesn’t know whose madder –

Me or the March hare.

What nonsense he will chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter,

Pay no mind – I don’t know who put him there,

Really and truly he ought to adorn a chair

And act as a cushion like Mallymkum there,

A chair? A dresser? A table? A desk?

Oh – wait one moment for I have a test –

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

You don’t know the answer?

Oh, you must be a chancer, evasion romancer

How will I ever learn

With so much tea in the earn?

Come, come, let’s drain it at once,

Let’s throw in some cakes and iced buns!

No girl, don’t eat them – you see

I meant throw them in the earn

To flavour the tea!

Mallymkum come here – do something for me!

We must lower you into the pot

So you can tell us how delicious it got…

No need for dread – we just need your head,

It’s full up with treacle – try this tea instead!


Devil’s Bridge – Hour Fifteen

The devil himself is known for Stealth

An with this reputation before him

He travelled down to foil the Welsh

In the county of Ceridigion

Eager to strike a deal with anyone

He came across an old woman who dearly wished

To be able to cross the river with a bridge

Which in just moments the devil could build…

But though the woman was old

He bargained for a soul

Of the first living thing to make a crossing

Certain it would be the old woman herself

But wait – what was that she was tossing?

Was this in act of stealth

To throw over the bridge bits of bread

To be chased by her one true companion –

A loyal and lively little spaniel…

So this was the soul the devil had earned

Crossing the bridge he wished he had burned

And due to his embarrassment and shame

He vowed never to visit Ceridigion again –

To this day Devil’s Bridge stands…

Built by Satan’s own greedy hands

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