Poetry Blog by John Coopey

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(Inspired by this wonderful advertisement for Lux.  I needed to change it to Camay for the rhythm.  A racing cert for Poem of the Week)


Freshen up your flaps with Camay

Fol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol la

It’s the soap for whiffy fanny

Fol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol la

Banish thoughts of Aldi salmon

Fol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol la

If you’re hoping for a gamming.


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Isn’t that Boris there over there in the spotlight?  (Uh uh)

Didn’t you used to have a thing for him (Uh uh)

By the way, where’d you meet him


“I saw him on the telly with unruly hair

I thought him a cutie and a cuddly bear

I never saw him as Leader of the Pack".


You folks were always putting him down

(Down down down)

You said he’s just a daft harmless clown


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(A true story told to me by Wilf, cut down a bit as she's got more rattle than a can of marbles).


The tribe had gone from Barnsley to America for a fortnight’s holiday – grown-ups, kids, grandparents aunties and uncles.  After arriving at JFK Airport they went off in search of the bus they’d hired.  It was big enough to take them all and was the sort that had a sliding side door as well as...

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(A re-post from a few years ago and a photo from many years ago when I was young and beautiful)


I miss the man that I used to be

That athletic man that used to be me

For when I was young

I was tireless and strong

I miss the man that I used to be


The man I see in the photos of him

I tall and muscular, dark and slim

But this was a past

Forbidden to last

I miss...

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The name she should have taken at birth had been long forgotten except by her mother, and she had been known since as Pen Alahn, Quiet Death.

She had not been expected to live long, cursed as she was by the gods with her limp.  She had not spoken until her third summer, interrupting the Elders at the Feast of Thanks, screaming simply, “They Come”.  The other women giggled and her father had sla...

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(A re-post about immigration.  Timely, given the EU elections this week. And a reminder of when immigration was less benign)


Those crazy Normans brought a notion

To Pevensey Bay

It involved our demotion

And I don’t mean pay;

If your hairdo is flaxen

It’s a give-away

Then you must be Saxon -

Serfin’s here to stay.


You might have lorded the Manor

Been an Earl ...

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(A Facebook chum of mine, Richard Harries, saw this photo of abandoned golf clubs at his local recycling centre and described at "unutterably sad".  I concur)


Just one hook

That’s all it took, yeah,

Just one hook

That’s all it took, yeah,


Just one hook

And I knew-ew-ew

That golf

And me were through-ough-ough


Just one hook

With a wood –oo-ood

And I kn...

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I’ve been reading a lot about this lately.  It seems today’s youngsters are beset from every corner with trauma.  Not the small stuff our forebears experienced, blitzkrieg, the Great Depression, the trenches et al but far more damaging daemons.

But let a sufferer tell you first hand.

Rhian, aged 28, (a little old to be a millennial I felt) explained that she couldn’t remember the last time s...

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Americans are quick to forget (or embarrassed to remenber) that during The War of Independence, whole cities remained loyal to the British Crown.  "Murrain" is (literally) a disease of livestock but came to mean a more general malady, as might "pox" these days.


They fled from the murrain that fell on East Ham

By Plymouth and Boston they brought us

And on to this place they called New...

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(If you don't know what this is about it is safe to say you lead an impoverished life)


Mine eyes have seen the golden goals of Greavsie and of Smith

The silky skills of Hoddle, Gazza and those they played with

But now we add another to the pantheon of myth

As the Spurs go marching on.


Glory, Glory Hallelujah

Glory, Glory Hail to Moura

He was Tottenham’s hat-trick sco...

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(A re-post evidencing my provenance in support of the sisterhood on this issue)


I’m fully with the sisterhood on this, I have to say –

Breast feeding in a public place at any time of day;

So I was most surprised the lady made a big to-do

When I pulled up a comfy chair to get a better view.


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We’re limping along on the crest of a trough

As we make the Champions League;

Where once we were cruising

We now can’t stop losing

In end-of-term fatigue.

We’ve shit on United

And Arsenal;

We’re delighted

We’re limping along on the crest of a trough

As we make the Champions League.


We’ve lost six out of eight of the last games we played

But have still made The...

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“The Rebel and the Yankee

The Blue and the Grey

Could never happen here with us”

Is what I hear you say.


But society is broken

And simply needs a spark

A beating at a demo

A brick thrown from the dark.


The Hutu and the Tutsi

Who one another slay

Could never happen here with us”

Is what I hear you say.


And then the retribution

Mixed with to...

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(Please forgive the singing, for which I should be shot)


Me and my bladder’s

Always full and needs the loo;

But then what’s badder

It’s just a dribble shooting out askew.

So at 12 o’clock’s my first golden shower

The next’s at one, then every hour.

My lousy bladder

Won’t let me sleep one whole night through.


Me and my bladder’s

Hostage to the prostate gland;


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(It seems it is my fate to improve works of inferior poets.  In this case I have taken that dose of dross by that WC Fields bloke and given it a make-over.  No need to thank me).


I’m being followed by a wheelbarrow

Wheelbarrow, wheelbarrow.

Pulling my chickens in a wheelbarrow,

Wheelbarrow, wheelbarrow.


And if tha wond’rin’ “Is it red?”

Please thissen. I’ve not said.


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(A re-post from a few years ago, but seeing as the great man is back I thought it worthwhile to revisit.  AfficiaNandos may recognise my debt to George Formby's "Fanlight Fanny").


You can tell he

Loves the telly

For his chance to smarm

He would give an arm

And a leg;

Aimed to prove he

Was a smoothie

On our TV set

As he got the better

Of Nick Clegg;

Charming an...

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(Every year on the occasion of my birthday my daughter and I take on a challenge in support of Candlelighters, a charity which supports kids with cancer.  We have abseiled, cycled and rowed a marathon.  This year, because she says I am knocking on a bit, she has set us an easy one - a 20 mile walk along the old railway line from Selby Abbey to York Minster.  If anyone would like to contribute to t...

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The time was running out I’m feeling low

We’re 4-2 down cos of Aguerro

Then it turns round with Llorente’s goal

But will the goal be disallowed

A deathly hush falls upon the ground

The verdict waited by the silent crowd


But there’s VAR Man watching from the stand

He sees that it’s come off his hip and didn’t hit his hand

And the VAR Man says it’s not Handball

The re...

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(A tired old re-post.  But it pays to advertise)


I want a WriteOutLoud woman to do anything in the world for me

I want a WriteOutLoud woman to do anything in the world for me

She could lick my piece into shape; I mean my poetry.


I’d take down her pantoums and jiggle her spondees for fun

She’d mouth both my rondels and my phaleucian

We’d make the two-backed couplet until...

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(A play for two players. This may not make too much sense without the audio)


“You keep up with the brushing,

At least twice a day?

And have you done your flossin?”

“Wergly wergly werg”


“You keep good teeth“, he said to me

“But your gums recede.

How hard is your toothbrush?”

“Wergly wergly werg”


“You look well tanned for wintertime;

Have you been away?


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(Of course, if any of you ladies on WOL would like to widen my fallibilities....)


It takes many forms, I suppose.  Adultery.  You’re probably expecting a ‘Tales-of-my-Prick’ post.  Unfortunately, to date, I have not been able to introduce it to the prickly pear.

No.  My adultery involves unfaithfulness of a different kind.  I have, for instance, been conducting an extra-marital love aff...

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(For the use of that final quote I am indebted to the unlikey source of literature, Iron Mike Tyson.  For the rest of it, to Paul Simon of course.)


Slip Sliding Away, Slip Sliding Away

You know the nearer your destination

The more you Slip Sliding Away.


Il y a une femme, elle habite dans mon pays

She told the country that she lived in fear

If I can’t get what I’m wantin...

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(We'd do well to remember it's just half time)


He’s a great little guy and he plays for the Almighty Spurs, now

His speed on the ball is so fast, just a series of blurs, now

He’s the foil for young Harry that coach Pochettino prefers, now

And he’s called Son! Son! Son! - he’s the one who put Man City away.


The fans down the Lane are queueing up to buy his beer, now


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(A re-post from 4 years ago. But you can't get enough of culture.  Plotting the nascency of a rather niche sexual preference I still have to this day. And have I really been making cigar box guitars for over 4 years?)


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


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They were vans actually in the early days.  He wanted vans so he could do a bit of fetching and carrying on the black.

The first one he ever had was a big blue Bedford.  I reckon it would have been in the late 50’s.  I can’t remember what I had for my breakfast these days but I can recollect from a distance of 60 years its registration – YRB 370.  You had to start it with a handle shoved undern...

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Poor old Treeza May

We’ll be oh so sad to see you go

To make way for that twat BoJo

But you’ve had your day

Cos step aside is what you’ll do

If your crappy deal don’t get through.

Too ri oo ri oo ri oo ri ay

Come on Arlene

As the DUP’s queen

You wear orange not green

And she’s on the rack;

Unless she will pay

More bribes you hold sway

So you’ll shaft Treeza M...

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(A re-post of one of my greatest hits)


Mi firstest poems wa’ yonks ago;


I’ve lost ’em (God be thankst!);


Full o’ trite naivety


An’ post-pubescent angst.






Some of them’s political


(I put the world to rights)


I solved starvation on mi own -


Right On! An’ Outta Sight!






I took to wea...

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There’s a town in the US that owes its continuing prosperity to railways.  It isn’t a significant junction of major routes; it never built trains as we have Crewe or Swindon; and it has no history like Stockton or Darlington.

What it does have are themed hotels and restaurants, souvenir and bookshops – a whole industry ensnaring millions of dollars.

It owes its prosperity to the power of thr...

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To all you brave young shavers contemplating marriage vows

I offer this advice to ward off arguments and rows.

The Vicar he will tell you, ‘‘Marriage is a partnership’’

But very soon you’ll find out when the pretence starts to slip

That your experience mirrors mine which (only half in jest)

Is on every single matter –

I’ve found Our Gert knows best.


You may think the time...

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Although a biopsy had determined that I was clear of prostate cancer, the symptoms remained; weak bladder, “urgency”, weak flow and frequent trips to the loo, especially through the night.  In layman’s terms I need to go quick, often and only dribble.  (I knew you’d be interested).

There are treatments for this including prostate surgery but the doc suggested drugs to start with.

Now, I was ...

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By 1807 the Napoleonic War had become a stalemate.  The French had defeated the armies of Austria and Prussia at Austerlitz and Jena, and had control of virtually all mainland Europe.  The British had destroyed the combined French and Spanish fleets at Trafalgar and controlled the seas.  What this meant was that Britain could not invade Europe because its army was no match for the French whilst th...

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Forgive me if my attitude to grammar schools is a little more appreciative than is fashionable nowadays.  This is primarily because I am such a huge beneficiary of the system.

It strikes me that life is a selective process.  Hopefully, the best candidate gets the job; the best employees the promotions etc.  Competitive sport as youngsters prepares us for this. The best players make the team; th...

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(Striving for pension equality for the sisterhood)


She will get her pension same as me

She says she wants equality

It is the justice for which her sex will strive

She has pressed for changes in the law

For all the wrongs she’s fighting for

So it’s not 60 anymore

She’s got to wait to 65.


She now thinks this can’t be right

One more mysoginistic slight

Like dir...

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(A re-post.  I wrote this a couple of years ago when the Church of England announced that it would allow gay clergy to become bishops but with the perverse stipulation that they were not allowed to have sex).


Thankyou for the gays

Who nowadays

Lead “Songs of Praise”

On Sundays;

The pink and purple gays

Can take their picks

Of bishoprics

From Leith to Lundy.



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(My support for the sisterhood)


Raise your voices; sisters speak!

International Women’s Week.

Banish weakness.  Let’s be strong.

Time to right what has been wrong.

Linking arms in sisterhood,

Pledged to Justice, pledged to Good.

Standing proud and standing tall,

The worth of one the strength of all

Yellow, brown or black or white

Joined together in the fight.


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Your weak prevarication

And your procrastination

On 2nd referendum

Kow-towing to Momentum

You   Who?

You  Who?

You’ve caused it all.


You’ve met with terrorists

An anti-monarchist

Ally of Trotskyists

Disguised as party activists

You   Who?

You   Who?

You’ve caused it all.


Give us all just one good reason

Why the nine of us should stay.

The l...

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On the honeyed sands of Bodrum’s where the tourists with their children swim and play

It’s a place of fun and laughter where Westerners enjoy their holiday

And the hotels on the shoreline raise the many different European flags

But no-one used the beach the day they found a single, sodden pile of rags.


That day would drain humanity of decency and spirit and of joy

For the ...

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Clothed in gold, in silver, iron,

Secrets safe for evermore;

Mighty Tisza, roaring lion

Here doth lie The Scourge of God.


Gold for Wealth and gold from quarry

A tribute for the gift of life;

Birthright to a king and warrior

Taken from the foes now dead.


Silver for the god of lune-night

Riding over homeland plains

Glint of amulet in moonlight


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(A racing cert for Poem of the Week)


The key to success for a Champion

Is to start the day with a shag,

A hand-lowered shite of 6lb weight,

A can of Long Life and a fag.

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(A fusion of the brilliant analogy of Brexit by Hugo Rifkind with the rather obvious adaptation of the Beatles's "Yellow Submarine".  Apologies, Mr Rifkind. The brilliance was entirely yours).


In the times since I’ve been born There’s been things I’ve never seen

But the best of all of these Mrs May’s Cheese Submarine.


Cos the people had a vote The biggest vote there’s ever been


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Don’t get me wrong I’m comfortable with gays; I’ve always been;

But sometimes note they get into a tizzy;

And though it’s not a preference of mine, by any means,

I don’t mind helping out if they get busy.


The first time that I helped out in this way I well recall

The blood went to my head and I felt dizzy;

A frisson unfamiliar and not my scene at all

But I forced mys...

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(It's all kicking off tonight. Can't wait)


The runaway train went over the cliff and she blew


The runaway train went over the cliff and she blew


The driver never considered “What if?”

You’d think that she’d been at a spliff

And she blew blew blew blew blew.


The runaway train went over the edge and she blew


The runaway train s...

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(I walked the trail of England's bloodiest battle today.  Estimates run up to 33,000 dead.  It's an exposed and unforgiving place even without a blizzard and someone trying to cave your head in)


In 1400 and 61

I believe that was the year

There happened a bit of a fallout

With Yorkshire and Lancashire.


For brothers like this to come to such blows

It needed the cause be a...

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(A re-post from a couple of years ago)


Marbella's the spot for mooring your yacht


To ostentatiously show what you've got


But a sight more evocative ploughing the foam


Much nearer the heart and closer to home


Was never a craft you'd look good in


I refer to the Ponty Tom Pudding.




A cross between a barge and a train


With a...

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St Sampson’s Over 60’s Club

A place I like to be

It’s there I practise amateur



I tell them I’m a doctor

“Retired now” I’d say

And book them in appointments

At a rate of 3 a day.


The most of them see through my ruse

But let deception pass

They know this chance to open up

May likely be their last.


Of course, there’s just a one...

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(A belated Christmas carol)

Silent Man

Invisible Man

Keeping mum

Keeping schtum

Labour Movement for Second Vote

Struggling without a leader of note

Corbyn defined by this

Corbyn – weak as piss.

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