The law of our life:

If you don’t get used to all  you’ll die.

If you don’t die you’ll get used to all.

                         ***

The picture was really unique.

When I looked at it I felt sick.

                         ***

One bottle of vodka for a fool

Turns into a rocking stool.

                         ***

Once in a trap eat your cheese!

F...

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I went to the doctors the other day

Told him my boobs were sore,

I'm sure there's nothing wrong, he said

Have a mammogram just to be sure.

 

So off I trot to the clinic

When I saw this big machine,

 

The nurse said strip to the waist

Don't  worry love it's just routine.

 

She plonked me boob on a cold slab

It really made me shiver

Reminded me ...

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Window shopping Aphrodite
Leblon’s premier rubber-wear
sandwich and photocopy shop
entranced by Croque Monsieur
done three ways
I could never have known

a Rio slum kid
sticky hare-lip              half cured
grubbed a not wet      not dry card
into my palm

‘TICKET TO MUSE’

fairylight cobwebbed walls
real linoleum floor
showcases, greets
male/female/other ...

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The Heavy Hands of Time 

 

For youth

The clock rarely has hands

 

For the middle age

It has hands

That starts to spin

Too fast

 

And for the old

Time weighs heavy

Like all Burdon

 

Knowing that

Most of your time

Has now gone

 

Watching the youth

Wishing too

That your clock

Had no hands

To spin so fast

 

...

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Read more …

 

Betwixt a cloying sleepless night
Betwixt the sheets of comforts form
dreams dream a lovers shy embrace
strength secured from cruelest storm.

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She totters as she trots across the street

On spindly, thin-shin shanks that

Could not dance a dodgy, rocky foxtrot.

This would-be vamp is hobbled

In her shaky, rakish steps

That wobble cock-eyed, knock-kneed,

In her lust for shoe-supremacy.

This dainty demoiselle is held

To be no stately, graceful gazelle

But gawky like a new-born, gauche giraffe

And yet...

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The wild colt enjoyed

galloping through

the tall green grass.

 

One day he was captured

and made a beast of

burden. He worked in the

field and pulled the wagon,

but he longed for

the tall green grass.

 

He grew old and weak,

one day he lay down

and closed his eyes.

When he opened...

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I'm renowned in the village, the region, the World

for something impressive, once it's been unfurled

a commending citation it fills me with pride

a sound reputation as long as is wide

true clear recognition, a plaudit so fine

as others seem poultry when measured by mine

I've grown it, I've shown it, I've reared it by hand

been invited to take it all over the la...

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if............

 

if?

stops me in my tracks

too many times

'protects' me

from risk-taking

paints the whole picture

of potential calamity

then plays it back to me

in surround sound

 nicam stereo

 3-d

 

 

if?

has o.c.d. as its default setting

tells me constantly

to check

and check again

before taking any ...

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I’ve got a brand new business plan,

A craze that will endure;

I’ve based it on that fish-tank thing -

That women’s pedicure;

And my idea is similar

The blokes will love for sure;

It still involves a tank of fish;

I call it Penicure.

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“Tea’s grilling, and the sloth’s toes

Did gear and gamble with their wage.

All misty were the biographers,

And the mime rats outrage.”

 

If Lewis Carroll used Spellcheck,

There wouldn’t be a ‘double Dutch’.

He’d have more literary respect.

He’s just so out-of-touch!

 

The worst thing is he’s a success!

Had he been typing with his feet?

From what I...

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I hope you didn't see me leave,

and that you're not aware I've gone.

I hope I meant much less to you

than your presence meant to me.

Your pseudo intellectual rants

were scathing, shallow and flawed.

With feeling and enthusiasm

I tried to feed your thoughts,

but your responses made me a fool,

and so I was, to care for you.

Hence your four hundred and seven...

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pop stars were skinny

cheesecloth and loons all the rage

in my hippy day

 

now they are podgy

where are all the handsome ones?

thank god I'm past it!

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a flashing view in the washroom mirror

who the hell is that

a plain jane in a neat grey suit

no edges

no lustre

no – LUST

oh my god  it’s me

 

Lips flame rouged

Shaded lids in saucy shadows

To her breast a crimson rose

And dancing heels with red silk lining

Swaying lithely to silent melody

Tingling with desire to dance

Twirling swirling scarlet skirt

...

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outside the window,

an ocean of poppies,

red like denial.

 

she watched them day-in-day-out,

from sunset to the first shards of sunlight

which crept through their stems

and reflected the underside of their petals.

from this she saw veins, a tiny network of

lines like join-up-the-dots,

a motorway map

thin like emotion.

 

dadd went to war ...

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You talk to me and tell me that love makes the world

That from dust,

Man and woman go forth sharing ribs

And Lie in Holy Union, with gold rings on their fingers

A symbol.

That Solomon was pleased,

And sang  in the rapture of our bodies

And that God himself is blessed by my sex,

Offered on silver platters with fine fruits and juices

 for dancing and sweatin...

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NB, I risk your opprobrium by posting reportage rather than poetry. I just feel the need to do so. The following happened on Friday.

 

Jenny’s only been in the nursing home for a week, out of place at a young-looking 66.

She hates it, yet would hate even more being sent home, back to her life of passive neglect at the hands of uncaring ‘care’ staff who whizz in and out as if afraid ...

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Sorry for Leap Frogging here, this is the second draft so I had to remove the old one. Big thank you to Alan Morrison. This is a response to his last entry. Thank - You. x

 

 Wimborne Road

 

 

             I ran along such a road once,

The Wimborne Road the track - a point to point

Racecourse jockeys use to please a crowd,

            The bets, illegal and legal ...

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Hi,

Please excuse my shameless plug for my first poetry book! From Beginning To End is self-published via Lulu.com.

If anyone is interested, or just wants a nosy, click the following link :

http://www.lulu.com/content/legacy-lulustudio-photo-book/from-beginning-to-end/10867745]

 Kath x

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On Thursday I gave my first solo recital.  You can read all about it here: http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/2011/06/24/newsflash-riot-at-poetry-gig/#comment-11735

It's thanks to Write Out Loud: when I asked the woman who invited me how she had heard of me, she said, 'The poet's website'.  This is the only poet's website I'm on.

Thanks, WOL!

It was a great experience, but no...

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...with Angela Smith and Jane Steele on Sun 3 July - Wild, also on gig guide!

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[Dedicated to Mike Robinson, poet & philosopher]

"I am of the street", said he,
excusing what he thought to be
his uncouth background's
strain of dark vulgarity.
"Vulgar" was the term he
(over)used, esteeming his fine
self to be devoid of lakeside
views and tender music's
much-refining me-defining
ever-shining undersea.
 
Why does he believe the street
should always...

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Of all the joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks onto mine…

 

He read me like a Mills & Boon

thought he knew my heart’s desire

swept me off my corny feet

set curled up toes on fire

 

For him podiatry was challenge

experimental, avant guarde

ejaculatory pedi-torture

hammered toes blown fast and hard

 

He innovated long and often

...

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Do not consider me frail, do not consider me weak

Although I may walk at the speed of a snail and find the inclines rather steep

Do not consider me past it, do not consider me fractious

For I have lived for many a year but that does not make me not belong here

For my heart still beats and I can still move my feet, just not as fast as you

So think twice when you give me your ...

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This morning, God finally

Put on his hat, and said

'Right - that's it.

If you don't believe in me,

then I don't believe in you

either.

So there.

- and don’t go asking me

for any more favours!'

Bang went the door

and I heard Marlene's dog 

bark as he passed the gate

It's all gone quiet

But I'm worried now that

he's not really gone

...

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I write in rhymes,

to make hard times seem easier defined,

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Someone took a grandfather clock

for a ride in a convertible Morris Minor.

I thought ,

How considerate!

My furniture doesn’t get out much.

So I took my chest of drawers ,

in a Vauxhall Zafira,

to the Isle of Mull –

a truly magical place.

We drove across the uplands,

where eagles spiral effortlessly

into moody clouds.

I felt inspired.

I took it...

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The bubbles are coursing through my veins,

speeding to my empty

stomach.

Leaving me floaty, yet inert

and rendering my mouth

dry and thirsty.

 

I am toasting you.

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Silly scribbles...

Ah, but when celebs rape trees

and The Sun has page three

your futility has meaning.

 

You played dot to dot with my heart

before we even knew the full picture.

We were children then

and now we stand – as adults – amazed.

 

Drawing on the canvass we've created

my palate is wet with streaming dreams...

trickling into cons...

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'The Poetry Spoke'

Great poetry and acoustic music night-

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 You made a woman of me.

With your little tiny little body growing inside of me.

A tiny foetus that turned into an embryo.

When I first felt you kick I knew I’d never let you go.

The result of a conception made in love.

You had the excitement of a puppy and the grace of a dove.

So small on that screen all bouncing around

When I first saw your scan my feet didn’t touc...

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Was due to go to a writing retreat on the Isle of Arran but now can’t make it. Would anyone like my place? Lovely house, wonderful writers and workshops, 2 - 9 July, £120. Please email me at mail@flapjackpress.co.uk if interested or spread the word if you can. Thank you:-)

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Sharp and sudden, the cruel slash of searing pain
begins to fade yet forms the deepest scar.
Smouldering gut wrenching embers burn mouth dry
and storms torrential ashen eyes
for a love that lasts and lingers long.
And when there is time to remember
what used to and may yet still be
think only of the beauty that was had
not loves tragic mournful loss
but only of summer da...

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Crisp within her vase

Dead red roses on display

Fragile in the light

 

Lack of sickly scent

Seeing beauty in decay

Brittleness deflects

 

Look but do not touch

Your fingers are forbidden

Petals turn to dust

 

Floral deviance

Delighting in senescence

Ring of rosy death

 

 

 

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Into itself, beyond vast darkness, remote lights beckon our tomorrow.

 

`

 

 

 

Into a new dark age
we go, marching,
careening headlong

 

[of soapbox poetry
there is no want
for many a voice
loudly rail and rant]

 

the terrain of our
condition and that
of our experience
has changed over
year upon year of
progress that has brought
us ...

Read more …

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There's a phrase to give us pause -

it's what you're on, it's where you're ending.

I've read so in your case notes

while your daughter was attempting

to colour in the silence

with progress of the garden

and accomplishments of children.

An undulating pathway, to be sure;

these buttons and levers at the side

of your bed will help you to adjust.

All that's l...

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Sole to sole. Blissful

Our feet and eyes touch in love

Soul to soul. Blissful.

 

Warning – this poem contains “foma”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bokononism

 

For 40 years I've been fascinated by CAT'S CRADLE, a novel by Kurt Vonnegut. Even though I disagree with his main conclusion it is immensely provocative (and amusing). In Cat's Cradle, the supreme act of worsh...

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her smile
her laugh
her smell
her choice of sandals
(magnificently explained to me)
her curves
her warmth
her bike
her walk plans
her hairstyle
(could be cut shorter - but hey.....)
her clothes

but her politics and opinions -

take em or leave em.

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The window waved

to a silence:

cloud-shaped

swallowing time

 

Wanderlust eats stars

Takes abandonment home for tea.

Remembers when The

Golden Girls had

their silver hue.

Knows what to do

when you don't

 

She can even magic eye,

and fingerknits belonging on the bus.

 

Bubble gum girl

happily sits still and thinks

cats-cradl...

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I have never been one

To slowly and lowly

Dip my toe in the flow

Of life.

 

Rather I`ve leapt

Feet first in a burst

Of passion not to ration

My enthusiasm

 

Walk a straight line?

Well no, what a bore!

Throw me a curve and I`ll swerve

Off track.

 

I have no control

Over lower digits which fidget

To land me and strand me

In t...

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It cups my chin, and if it could give,

it gives -

a white smoothing porcelain, to tether, bitter on my lips,

fast into the air, pulling on my coat;

a dance, a positioning of feet,

and an embrace that, true to form,

evaporates,

and leaves me so unsure.

 

Hurried, the part of the lake

that I am, is held back, and yet cautious,

and lonely still...

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Leaving Belfast

 

Leaving Belfast

I remember you in Bookfinders

On university road

As you pulled out

One book to look at

And the full shelf

Collapsed on you.

 

It shames me now

I remember more

About your Scott Walker LPs

Scattered all over the floor

In a huge circle

Which you would

Constantly play

Over and over

If you were ...

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Woodland breathes all around

People move dance and sway

I stand in the lost child light.

Friends approach

‘Hey you ok?’

‘Yes’ I say

Just standing

All the while

In the lost child light.

Blessings be upon you,

 Suffer the little children . . .

 

The woodland ages slower than I

And grows stronger than I

Holds me close comforted be...

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Lost equals through three decades,

Chance meeting kindles

Our competitive flame,

Winning me over again.

So you think.

 

But this is my game…

 

Now I toy, I tease,

I play,

If I please.

You’re all mine,  

So you say.

 

But I’m not yours.

 

I’ve triumphantly grown-up;

The guileless girl now hidden away.

Now, capriciously sure ...

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Andromeda When they chained you to your post, did you think of duty then, stripped of your dignity like spring lambs sheared of their wool for the first time. No. You did not. You fought with all the weapons of a woman; you loosed your tongue and cried your tears but still they betrayed you. They tied your hands with callous chains and pressed their shallow guilt againt your naked...

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Manchester Morning

And in the distance

A watery sun

Climbs ponderously

Above the Pennines.

 

Manchester Morning

Railway stations buzz

As iPods arrive

Accompanied by

Their sleeping owners.

 

Manchester Morning

Shops slowly open

With early temptings

Of frothy coffee

And warming bagels.

 

Manchester Morning

Trams clank che...

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