Also found on the lappie I submit the sort of thing you can only write when you have too much time on your hands. Two things written in a pub when rain stopped play in Padstow, Cornwall and then 3 haikus written at dinner while listening absolutely horrified to this appalling sloany couple who were so bad it was almost good....
The Holiday at One Forty
Speckled windbreakers, not with sunshine, but wet Cornish air
Close mist against the harbour
Grouping families look out from the wood decked pub
Breathing fabrics rustle round the glasses as passed glances check outâ¦
⦠bags.â¦brolliesâ¦.pumpsâ¦.
Shall we eat more, drink? Where did he get those shorts?
We could have gone to Creteâ¦.
âThe beerâs delivered by Arthur, he has a neck two foot wide,
He married a girl called Molly and would, he says, againâ
Outside the seafood van glistens.
Is the white air thinning?
The brass lamp blinks
Straighten out the Goretex
Lift you glass and drink
------
Territorial Fishings
The novelty postcard with stern Victorian dame says
âArbeit macht frei!â
Not round here my loves
There ainât much liberty hauling lobster pots
Paulie regrets the fore-arm tatts from summer, seen on every pull
Should have gone to Penrith with that girl from Trill
Itâs a fiver a lobster or thirty five up that restaurant
So forgive I if I spit or hawk
If they clean it off right then whatâs the harm?
Just local dressing for their fork
-------
3 Haikus for the Sloany Pony
Blonde hair, black eyebrows,
The Sloany Pony holds forth
*So* your daddyâs money
-------
She can talk and talk
And talk and talk and talk and
He thinks⦠just fuck me..
-------
Looking at the sweets
âEat chocolate off my tumâ
Cocoa rug munch ho!
Saturday 28 October 2006
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Make it stop... dear God, make it stop!
ReplyDeleteC'mon Dave - it's ritual humiliation time. Post up post up post up and play the game! We could teach the vogons a thing or two yet!
ReplyDeletemy poetry is saved for teh woo-ing of teh women
ReplyDelete