Monday, June 24, 2013

A Certain Age


From the top-edge of my vision
I saw the blur of hair
And for a moment
I thought I had hair
I thought I was young again

But then
I realised
It was my eyebrows’ hair
Growing out of control
Which means, of course,
The exact opposite

Friday, June 14, 2013

Usually this blog is for my own poems. But this poem by my friend, the legendary singer/songwriter that is Robb Johnson,  just has to be out there!  Robb is also a reception teacher. Find out more about him at http://www.robbjohnson.co.uk/

Fonix

At skool
Yoo haf too lurn
Fonics
Foniks
Fonix
Becos yor fonnix
Teechiz yoo
The rools
Ov Inglish
And how too
Rite it
Propperlee.
If ownlee
Sillee Billee
Shakespeer
Had dun mor
Fonnicks
In sted
Ov planting
Poet-trees,
Size Mykull Goav
Wistfullee.


by Robb Johnson
© 2013

Thursday, June 13, 2013

If you were the only girl in the world and I was the only boy


Of course, as the atmosphere slowly cleared
The sunsets would be less dramatic

But the pharmaceuticals would last, I’m sure
Although I’d have to learn chiropractic

We’d have fun watching the grass and brambles
Slowly overwhelm the city

We’d live on tinned beans. And wild berries
No internet. But plenty to read.

Obviously we’d have to get good
At dodging zombies

And we’d have one another
Which is all we'd really need

Monday, June 10, 2013

Scrab


Lo!
And there was a board
And it was good.
A grid of blue and pink squares

We pick a tile
And smile

How long has this been going on?
Twenty eight years

How many games have we played
Since that first game?
Too many to count

My boyish bravado
Your quiet confidence
How often I’ve been pipped at the gazebo
With a Qi or a Za
Or a seven letter word
In closing moments of the match

But hope springs
A double triple letter score
And anyway
Who cares who wins?
That’s not what we are playing for

Wednesday, June 05, 2013

Photograph


Here’s the photo I took
Last year on the beach
Dad, wearing the tie
I bought him for his birthday
Billy drinking lemonade
The straw up his nose
And Mum, huddled up in her coat
Against the seaside wind

Now Dad’s in France
And our beach is covered in concrete
And tangled barbed wire
And land mines
In case the Germans invade

But on that day
We’d just made
The world’s grandest sandcastle
And watched the tide
Rush in
Filling the moat
Gradually washing
The sandcastle away

Monday, June 03, 2013

Dear Mum


If you receive this letter
I’ll be gone
To who knows where?
To Heaven, I hope.
So please don’t cry.
And give my love to Lop,
Our cat who lost his tail.
And Dad, of course.
I hope that this year’s crop
Of spuds do well.

And give my love to Ruth
I know I promised her
That we would marry in the spring
But tell her that I love her
(And you
And Dad
And Lop, the cat)

I have to go
The big offensive’s come
Don’t worry, Mum
Oh, and please give Ruth
This ring

From John
Your ever-loving son