Poetry Blog by Trevor Alexander
Sunday Morning
Bone china floral pattern cups with curlicue handles on deep saucers, with matching side-plates on white lacy doilies, laid out on a blindingly immaculate linen tablecloth. In the middle, a long-spouted teapot wearing a knobbly, knitted woollen coat sits on a gleaming chrome-plated stand. But all the attention is drawn to the three-tier, silver-framed cake-stand, with its abundance of fondant fanc...
Tuesday 19th February 2019 3:49 pm
Seashore Summer
Faint call of soaring seabird shadowed against burning midday sun. Hazy white wisps suspended low on horizon. Gentle waves barely disturb cerulean surface as they erase footprints oozing across wet sand. Knotted clumps of drying kelp clutter high water line, its salty tang drifting through shimmering heat. Lolloping labrador leaps in pursuit of slowly fluttering flies. Staccato sounds of spade bea...
Thursday 31st January 2019 10:13 am
Puppetmasters
We see them on the news most every night,
pontificating, make believe they’re wise.
Myself, I think they talk a load of shite!
Does anybody understand these guys?
They tell us what to do and how to feel,
persuading us they know what’s best for us;
that we should acquiesce and let them deal
with everything, and not create a fuss.
They stroke us like a pet they woul...
Tuesday 29th January 2019 12:04 pm
Self-Doubt
A poet will pick up his pen
At the whim of his muse now and then
So he writes it all out
Then in tortured self-doubt
Rips it up and starts over again
Sunday 20th January 2019 5:21 pm
Ice Cream
Ice cream,
velvety smooth,
melting over taste buds,
evoking seaside memories;
heaven.
Wednesday 16th January 2019 2:43 pm
Time To Diet
We’ve got through the seasonal cheer
Well stuffed with roast turkey and beer
But the poor bathroom scales
Now just greet us with wails
And hide when we try to come near
Monday 7th January 2019 11:53 pm
Winter’s The Pits
The weather in winter’s the pits
‘Cause the falling of snow never quits
Which daily delivers
A case of the shivers
And shakes all your wobbly bits
Monday 7th January 2019 4:36 am
Cold
My fingers and toes are all froze
And icicles hang from my nose
This winter’s a curse
Please send for a nurse
To warm me beneath the bedclothes
Sunday 6th January 2019 1:07 pm
Recent Comments
Big Sal on Puppetmasters (Tue, 29 Jan 2019 01:25 pm)
M.C. Newberry on Self-Doubt (Mon, 21 Jan 2019 04:29 pm)
Don Matthews on Self-Doubt (Mon, 21 Jan 2019 10:46 am)
lisa donohoe on Self-Doubt (Sun, 20 Jan 2019 05:55 pm)
lisa donohoe on Time To Diet (Wed, 16 Jan 2019 05:52 pm)
lisa donohoe on Ice Cream (Wed, 16 Jan 2019 05:40 pm)
Big Sal on Ice Cream (Wed, 16 Jan 2019 04:21 pm)
Don Matthews on Time To Diet (Tue, 8 Jan 2019 07:03 am)
Brian Maryon on Winter’s The Pits (Mon, 7 Jan 2019 07:47 am)
M.C. Newberry on Cold (Sun, 6 Jan 2019 04:50 pm)