Archive for March, 2010

April Rain Clouds

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 31, 2010 by dc

In April rain clouds
Moisture growls against darkness
Before its descent

Winter Leaves

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 30, 2010 by dc

Staring at the sun
Kicking bags of winter leaves,
We crumble softly

A Monument

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 28, 2010 by dc

As yesteryear echoes
And the mouths of fat infants
Scream fashionable cries,
A cuddly granny
Throws seeds at the gulls,
A war veteran tuts
And a dog causes mayhem.

It’s an old seaside town,
Scummy round the edges,
A postcard found behind a cooker,
Piss puddled tunnels
Feeding withering pubs,
Cracked B&B’s
That stink of stale loathing.

It’s a monument
To letting it go,
As ageing strippers
Eat chips on the beachfront
And shiver,
Dark holes instead of eyes,
Teenagers spitting slang
At their feet,
Butchers grumbling nearby.

They said it would never fade,
A jewel in the crown of the south,
Now it just growls at the waves,
Moans at the sky
And sinks under chipped paint,
Beach balls long since deflated,
Bulldozers dreaming.

Wind Through the Forest

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 21, 2010 by dc

Wind through the forest
A sad old man weeping whilst
Under gut scratching

The Lads From There

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 17, 2010 by dc

They invented
Speech impediments
For themselves,

Wore their jeans
Like black prisoners

And styled their hair like
1970’s ‘put a foot in’ merchants,

The kind you’d see
In a ‘Nottingham Forest Forever’
Stocking filler DVD.

I digress.

They sang in cellars
Like lyrical funfair folk,

Wrote postcards to strangers
And broke guitars with their whooping,

They carried shurikens in gym sacks
And howled at the moon,

Punched tramps for a giggle
And stole all they ate.

They were itchy with misery
And bored like the sun,

Grans called them wicked,
They were cursed some would say,

But I like to think
They were pickled,
It’s somehow sweeter that way.

Gorilla Daydream No.4

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 7, 2010 by dc

I want to stab clouds
Punch excitement till it drops
And then breath again