Poetry Blog by John Coopey

An unrequited love poem

I’ve had some bad luck with the ladies

In truth, the fault’s down to me

You see, I’ve a niche peccadillo

That’s harmless, I’m sure you’ll agree.

I’d taken her out on a bike ride

We’d stopped at a café to eat

But when she came back from the Ladies

She caught me sniffing her seat.

A second invited me inside

An offer I couldn’t refu...

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Let me say from the off that Alfie is a mongrel.  Oh, sure, my daughter describes him as a bijon fries something-or-other cross.  But the offspring of a pure Arabian and a pure-bred Asinara donkey is still an ass (or is it a mule, I forget).  So Alfie is still a mongrel.

An adorable little mongrel, I’ll grant you – to look at, at any rate. But a little shit when you get to know him.

Now, I’m...

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I laminate and post a few of these poems around the in-laws garden at appropriate points for this event. 

Geranium Bed

I have a hobby bordering mania

Taking cuttings of gerania;

“Not so!” your criticism comes

It’s plural is geraniums”.

Bird Feeders

These little rhymes made up of words

Just pale beside the songs of birds;

We keep these feeders fully stocked

...

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You'd need to be of a certain age to remember Lord Beginner's original; or, indeed, Ramadhin and Valentine.

Cricket, lovely cricket

Old Trafford was where I saw it

Cricket, lovely cricket

So lovely you can’t ignore it.

Bowled out for just 129

England won by 269

369 was what we scored

A rattling knock from Stuart Broad.

Once upon a better time

You’d have Ramadhin ...

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Our grandchildren and great grandchildren will ask

"Who broke the world?"

And the tears of our ghosts will weep

"We did"

And they will ask us

"Did you not care?"

And we will answer

"Only for ourselves".

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Worldwide fans may prefer to enjoy the poem without listening to the audio!  The opening E7 chord is perfect.  "Tits up" starts immediately after.

We’re seeking IT specialists to join our team

To supplement the Putin crew

Trade your western decadence for our regime

Come and join the chosen few.

And hack in the USSR

And work for the Tsar

Hack in the USSR.

We’re loo...

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I was amused to see an article on this on today’s BBC News website.  It seems an American woman from Richmond, Virginia, stands accused of “cultural appropriation” for posting a video of herself doing that Irish Riverdancing.  Now don’t get me wrong, I fully support taking down posts of idiots dancing on the spot to the tune of an Irish whistle; not for reasons of cultural appropriation, but becau...

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Nowadays I am one rung down from the fucking angels.  But I was not always so.  A re-post.

I moan these days about youngsters -

The chavs and the scuzzies and thugs;

Their swearing and gobbing and ASBOs -

Their smoking and drinking and drugs.

But I recollect I was no angel

And partial to that Special Brew

And me and my mate have knocked teeth out

And pissed in a doorwa...

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Readers should be aware that the play may contain outdated attitudes, language and cultural depictions which may cause offence today.  And nuts. And in no way does its publication, replication or production intend to justify, endorse or celebrate the morality contained therein.

In particular, we do not condone the stereotyping of the three witches as women with their associated body shaming whi...

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A re-post from a few years ago and included in my epic tome "Proper Poems by John Coopey: t'Finest Bloody Poet from Chapel Haddlesey Ever To Draw Breath". Always happy to improve on the works of inferior poets like Lewis Carroll.

“The Walrus and the Carpenter

Licked their lips so sweet

And pondered their good fortune

At that tasty mollusc treat;

Then idly stretched to doze awhi...

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An attempt at mid-line assonance and end-line consonance. A re-post from 2012. (I no longer require a penile cage to restrain me!). 

In the mind and on the flesh sense the crop’s keen edge

Hear the swish and feel the thresh; Mistress will oblige.

One’s for you; the second’s mine; the third is born in rage

Three red welts in perfect line; Mistress will oblige.

Pain and pleasure ...

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Fellow Baby Boomers will no doubt recall that rite of passage that was the Eleven Plus.  For non-Boomers that was an exam every kid took at the age of eleven (as it happens) to determine your next educational path. Those who passed went on to the grammar school, those that didn’t didn’t. They went on to the secondary modern, and for the vast majority of the population that “cut” set the seal on th...

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(You will see where I got the inspiration for this.  More than the inspiration, really.  I have just taken his piece and wrapped the song around it.  See first comment)

Baby, look at me

And tell me what you see

You try to be woke and polite

But BAME just means that I’m not white.

You don’t know what you say or do

With just two boxes – me and you;

How, morally, can this be...

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(History Made Simple.  A masterpiece of mine included in the anthology "Still Life with Wine and Cheese", celebrating all that's best about France.  A slim volume!)

There stood mud ‘n’ puddles where once there’d stood flowers

It bucketed stair rods for ‘ours ‘n’ ‘ours

It tested us patience; it tested us powers

To trudge to the port-a-loo

At the Battle o’ Waterloo.

We’d ...

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(This might come across as a bit dewy-eyed.  In fact, although I made a good living out of it for more than 20 years, for the sake of the planet and my grandchildren, I don't mourn the loss of the coal industry)

Around the town of Barnsley there were 30,000 men

In hey-days of their glory; that was when

They worked the local mines for coal,

Descending down a half mile hole

To sc...

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Following Brexit I had held the view for quite a time that we must be the most stupid nation on the planet; why else would 17m people vote for something when they didn’t know what they’d get (and still don’t for that matter).

Now I don’t want to downgrade Britain’s achievements in this department but events in the USA have caused me to re-evaluate my position.  Now, you might think I’m a bit sl...

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(One of them there haikupis)

Prayers before bedtime

An homage to The Great One

Religion in flight

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I write this piece for the many thousands of my worldwide fans with less inquisitive minds than my goodself.

It’s said that one of the differences between prose and poetry is that the latter tends to address many of the more weighty aspects of the human condition – death, nature, loss, love etc., and certainly I have witnessed several of you attempting a well-meaning put at these matters.  So i...

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I could have baked a wholemeal loaf

Or set tomato seeds

I could have made a tenon joint

Or learned to iron a shirt.

I could have planted taters

Or learned to make a fire

Or mixed up concrete with my dad

Or learned the call of birds.

I could have watched the stars at night

Or edged and mowed the lawn

I could have gone on nature walks

Identifying trees.

...

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(What's all this bollocks about it being good for the mental health of the nation?)

Those days of heartache seem so long ago

But very soon I know

They’ll return on the TV and the radio;

This three month lock-down’s been so good for me

I’ve found it so stress-free

But now returns the misery

So let the heartache begin

It makes no difference – lose or win

And though we...

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I had an argument today (I’m quite a bolshie sod)

And one I knew I couldn’t win – an argument with God.

I know he is the Father of All Creatures Great and Small

And has no favourites in between; He loves them one and all.

And I had cruelly murdered one.  No question, it was dead.

I’d panicked when I’d seen it there – a spider in my bed.

I pleaded mitigation, “It's just an ar...

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What a bloody nonsense all this is.  This taking down of statues business.

Let me say from the outset that I deplore the killing of George Floyd and all the others who have died at the hands of police brutality.  I support the demonstrations in protest at this (peaceful and socially distanced, I add) although I do wonder what their aims are.  It seems to me that there are ample protections agai...

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We used to play a game with the kids when they were little to keep them occupied on long journeys.  It was called, “Draw the Music”.

The idea was simple.  I played a cassette of music and they drew or wrote what picture it made them think of.  The music had to have no words, of course, otherwise it suggested itself.  Classical music was good for this, as they had no pre-conceived ideas about it...

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(I thought this site needed a poem in foreign.  An homage to our trusted friends across the Channel)

Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose

Edith Piaf, petit pain

And Zinedine Zidane

Depardieu with grand nose

No-one likes Charles Aznavour

Don’t mention Agincourt

It makes them tres morose

Ballets and Calais, aussi Charles de Ga...

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I found  myself watching that pretentious piece of Old Shag called “Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown” some time ago, when a snippet of trivia got wedged in my napper.

You probably know the format; it’s a panel game hosted by some self-important prig with a laugh like a donkey and a couple of women “experts” - a looker who deals with some numbers and a dowdy looking piece that doesn’t.  Well, the d...

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(A man afraid of his own people)

Hideaway (Come on)

A man with two feet of clay

A man who will talk True Grit

The truth of it

He’s full of shit

And needs to hideaway.

Hideaway (Come on)

Far from the light of day

Leaving behind this mess

Of black unrest

And their protest

Where he can hideaway.

Hideaway (Come on)

Far from the crowds that bay

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You might remember him as Billy Elliot’s best friend, the one who liked dressing up in his sisters’ clothes and wearing make-up.  We last saw him in the audience for a performance of Swan Lake, with a grown-up Billy taking the lead role.  On one side of him were Billy’s dad and brother; on the other, we assumed his black friend.  Michael himself wore woman’s clothing with little skill.

We were ...

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(A shocking disgrace that I should feel the need to repost this, as George Floyd adds to the catalogue of black Americans who died at the hands of the police).

There you go and, Trayvon, here am I

One black, one white, so one’s OK to die

No need to puzzle or to wonder why

Cos a black life doesn’t matter anymore.

Akai Gurney, Ford and Michael Brown

Eric Garner ...

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When I set out my bedding plants

I garden in my underpants;

Cos now we’re all in isolation

I’m free from risk of visitation;

The only time my theory fails

Is when the postie fetches mail

Or Tesco’s Gill brings us our food;

She asked me “Why not garden nude?”

I told her she’s a silly twit -

There’s always chance I’d kneel on it.

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(On the altar of poetic licence I have sacrificed the grammatically correct "Cummings's" for the grammatically incorrect "Cummings')

It’s Cummings’ Home

It’s Cummings’ Home

That farm was Old Man Cummings’ Home

(*2)

Talk about staying in your home

Don’t go out and don’t roam

Isolate on your own

You’re instructed to keep in confines

Or else risk a fine

Unless ...

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(A true story; in as much as any dream is true!)

Our Sam dropped by to wish us well

But also had a tale to tell;

Now, I could tell it but I’ll let Sam

Cos no-one tells one like she can.

That’s No.2 daughter…….Not quite right in the head.

“Last night I had a horrid dream

The worstest nightmare’s ever been;

As I was walking down the street

I got swept up and off ...

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(A re-post from 2015)

I well recall some years ago

Before I had a car and so

I’d caught the bus to go to town

I paid my fare and then sat down;

A woman was sat next to me

(I paid no mind and nor did she);

And so in silence on our way

We journeyed, till I heard her say

“If you don’t eat up” she began,

“I’ll give it to this nice young man”;

I glanced and saw the...

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(My worldwide Facebook fans will have been perturbed by my absence)

Don’t do Facebook anymore

Di’n’t do Twitter too before

Yes, I’ve kicked them out the door

So you all now know the score

Don’t do Facebook anymore.

There’s no reason why I should

Read the posts of stupid cruds

I’d ignore them if I could

But I can’t; in likelihood

My responses cause bad blood.

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I got to thinking about Temptation as a theological concept within the construct of The Seven Deadly Sins the other day. Worldwide fans will be aware of my ruminations on these from previous treatises I have posted in scholastic publications like Facebook.

Essentially I was trying to weigh myself on the balance of scales and decided that on Gluttony, Sloth and Greed I am banged to rights, where...

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Let’s hear it for the doctors and the nurses on our wards

The thousands upon thousands who will never win awards

“They’re heroes” Boris now insists

He’ll soon forget - their worth dismissed

One tokened in the Honours List

So beat the drum for nurses.

Let’s hear it for the carers who look after Britain’s aged

Their contribution to the cause deemed unskilled and low waged

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“I can’t remember if I cried

When I’d committed budgicide

But something touched me deep inside

The day the budgies died.”  (They were canaries, actually).

It was something that gained me a notoriety it took a long time to shake off.

During the year-long Miners’ Strike of 1984/85 management staff not in the National Union of Mineworkers were seconded to pits on safety cover.  Th...

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(Tonight's BBC1 screening of "Darkest Hour" and the VE anniversary prompted me to re-post this blog of mine from 2015)

It will not have escaped the notice of newswatchers that we have just marked the 50th anniversary of Churchill’s death.  Like him or loathe him, he was one of the great shapers of modern Britain.  So too was Arthur Greenwood.

In May 1940 Britain stood on the brink of de...

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I’m really enjoying this lockdown,

Though some of you might be appalled;

My life carries on unabated -

The difference is slight, if at all.

The pension rolls in as per schedule,

Curfew or none, come what may;

It’s just like a permanent furlough

Without a reduction of pay.

There’s little I miss about lock-down

There’s nowhere that I’d want to go

I’d rather be...

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I’m not a great socialiser - a bit of a Jonah as such

So what have I missed during lock-down?

          In truth, not very much.

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(Everyone remembered him as the 1960's Pinball Wizard of Brighton seafront.  Shortly after, he married his childhood sweetheart, Elsie.  They would have been in their 60's now but he died a few years ago.  Elsie now has a new love).

Ever since I’ve been an old man I’ve played those wooden balls

Both indoors and on crown green , I must have played them all

But I ain’t seen nothing lik...

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(Always happy to swim against the flow)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m first to say “I love the NHS”

A beacon of our Welfare State and free; but nonetheless

If I should see a nurse again you’re quite right to assume

In 40, 50 years or more – well, this would be too soon.

And seeing as you’re interested I’ll tell the reason why;

It’s all to do with what blokes do to pass the morning...

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Your Roman pilum ranks alongside the English longbow as one of the great weapons of warfare.  At school, in Latin, we translated it as “spear”, which does it about as much justice as calling Beethoven a “pub turn”.
It was around 6’ long, the heavier shaft accounting for 4’, with a narrower spike of around 2’ at the business end.  The tip of the blade had a pyramidical point.  As a killing machine...

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Up in the morning to start your day

“What shall we do?” You hear yourself say

You realise then and you feel a berk

The Government’s said that you can’t work

Should you go out?  The answer is “No!”

There’s no particular place to go.

It’s 9am and the time is near

For cracking a can of lager beer

At 10 o’clock and you’re on your third

You’re starting to sweat and your ...

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Like me, you probably always thought a toe rag was some kind of cheesy-smelling rag you put on or between your toes, perhaps to help with your blisters.  Colloquially it was an insult denoting a worthless person.  But a visit to the HMS Trincomalee a couple of years ago put me right.

The Trincomalee is one of the last preserved fighting ships still afloat and is moored at Hartlepool Marina.  (H...

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(It's laddo's birthday today (deathday, for that matter).  I thought I'd give one of his more tiresome dirges a chuck-on with this facelift from my shed stable)

Shall I compare thee to a summerhouse?

Thou art more sturdy and more waterproof;

A summerhouse is for a great girl’s blouse;

Conservatories?  Thou thinkest me a poof!

Sometime too hot doth blaze Apollo’s eye

But when...

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(A true history.  Mostly)

You’ve all ‘eard o’  t’Spanish Armada,

‘ow King Phillip the Schofield of Spain

Singed ‘is beard an’ then ‘ow ‘is navy

Got stuffed in Elizabeth’s reign.

An’ at Trafalgar Lord Nelson

Gen them Froggies some stick,

But died ‘olding Oliver ‘ardy

‘is bicorn spelled out “Kiss Me Quick”.

I’ll bet, though, yer less well acquainted

Wi one ove...

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(I had to do several takes of the audio.  I kept choking up)

She’s 5’ 2” and he’s 6’ 4”

She’s black, he’s white, it really doesn’t care

He’s all of 81 and she’s only 17

Its gift is death to each in equal share;

She’s a Muslim from Iran, he’s a Catholic from France

A rich man or a pauper on the dole

It’s a doctor or a nurse inside that funeral hearse

Who’s Bangladeshi o...

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Was his nick-name because his surname include “itch” in it.  He was quite young, in his twenties I’d guess, fresh from training college, and an unkempt, fat bloke with irregular teeth.  His shirt always gaped above his trousers revealing his belly button.

He taught English at my grammar school and was a sadistic bastard.  This was in the days of teachers hitting kids with impunity or picking th...

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(A pic of my garden rockery looking swell)

We suffer at the World Cup from the Germans’ discipline

In rugby and in cricket it’s the same;

You’d think New Zealand and the Aussies too might let us win

Inventing as we did the bloody game!

But all good things, the saying goes, will come to he who waits

In time those foreign countries will admire us

As Britain plays the a...

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(I fear I will be taken out by the Illuminuminatti for posting this)

It’s all here on Facebook – something new

One more barmpot theory made for you;

Read all about the conspiracy

The virus Corona’s been caused by 5G

The story world leaders are plying are just packs of lies

I’ve read it on Facebook it starts when you eat Wigan pies

Then growing inside you, unsportsmanlike

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