The exit polls excited us,
off the kids stomped,
I promised to wake them
at six-fifteen (prompt),
with an insecure prediction
their country is strong,
but to the bed I’m afeard
that exit polls are wrong.
Category: FOR KIDS
4,000 Weeks To
And how to use
this allocation
well: Connect
with the same,
do not allow
any form of abuse,
become a philosopher
(or a published poet),
evacuate your mind
of ill-thoughts,
whatever you do
don’t be efficient;
meditate daily,
embrace all love,
do not delay
and waste less time:
Always avoid,
whenever possible,
an early death
(look both ways).
Get A Second Life
Have all the Pokémons
gone to Second Life?
The streets are bereft
of kids mesmerized
by virtual monsters
stuck in their phones,
a poor excuse
to not stay at home:
Get out again,
you eye-phone youth,
get a real life,
it’s there to be used,
go catch a clown,
fools dressed to dread,
under those masks
the latest dick-heads.
Allhallowtide & Halloween
With more martyrs to count
than days in the year,
they all got rolled up
into this ‘Christian’ schmear:
Another scam to buy
more shite from the shops,
(once just a mask
to hide your face from a corpse).
Wear neighbours’ patience
really thin,
your kids making doorbells
ring and ring –
those normally just rung
by Parcelforce,
and Jehovah’s Witnesses
(of course):
This excuse to eat treats,
and fatty gloop,
with the fasting for martyrs
lost in the loop.
So roll on Bonfire Day
with no pretence of faith,
except in the Gods
who’ll make sure it won’t rain.
Coffee and Cake
Sat down, Grandma,
Grandson, and Mum,
Grandma, huffily:
‘No point sat by ‘im!’
Grandson, grumpily:
‘I’ll be on me phone..’
Grandma grunts,
Mum checks her own,
and Mum reads out
a Facebook feed;
the tired waitress
tries to intercede,
placing before them
menu boards,
waiting for her voice
to now be heard
above that of Grandma’s
moan about stuff:
‘It wasn’t like this,
when we grew up!’
Mum, now bored:
‘The world’s moved on!’
Grandma, resigned:
‘When I’m gone…’
Grandson, buts in:
‘Can I bags your phone?’
A Clown Lives
A smiling clown
lives under my shed,
that beastly thing
your kids now dread:
His beery breath
is much more rank
than that stink
off your aged Gramp;
this clown’s teeth
are as equally rough
as those in a tramp’s
gap-filled mouth:
This prankster sleeps
in daylight’s peace,
he dreams of flesh,
to eat with chips.
Instructions On How Not To Die
For the children, teachers, TAs, and staff at Little Horsted School, East Sussex. Thank you for choosing @parkinsonsuk as your charity, your fundraising is fantastic, your poems are beautiful.
Put on your jump suit, it is quite a struggle,
meet your buddy, the man tugging your toggle.
Pull on your harness, adjusted too tight!
Walk outside, the sky looks quite HIGH!
Say ‘Goodbye’, shout out ‘It’s all fine!’, secretly hoping it’s not a lie,
Stride to the plane, like a pro, its roaring props don’t half blow!
Climb a short ladder, still afraid of heights,
Sit in the floor, swallow back your fright.
Get strapped to the man, who does this for thrills,
Take off, sat backwards, up above the field.
Polite conservation, as you fly through the sky,
talk ’bout anything, anything, but not about dying!
Watch the light go green, people fall out the plane,
Now its your turn to feel their pain.
Sit there, on the edge, just like God,
Turn your head to the left, and then drop…
Giants
Long-strided
pylons ahead
loose loops
of cables
for tug-of-war
games
or sewing
of the sky
a long thread
over furrow
folded fields
also
line-tamed.
Poetry Advice
One piece of advice,
to the younger writer,
Maybe two more,
‘cos I’m a rhyme-fighter:
Poetry is easy,
but it doesn’t make verse,
Doggerel should DIG up
all those IN-BETWEEN words:
It’s about THE subject,
Examining THE thought;
And here’s an example
Of a verse with no rhyme.
Sweet Truth
Written for Little Horsted CE School, East Sussex – poetry workshop
Just like Roald Dahl,
The best writer of stories,
I surrender too easily,
To sweet-tooth fairies:
Chocolate, oh chocolate!
Terrifying stuff,
The scary thing is..
I can’t get enough!
I don’t care ’bout wrappers,
Brand names or offers,
The chocolate inside,
is all that matters!
Chocolate, oh chocolate!
Causes tooth rot,
The truth is, the truth is,
I don’t give a jot!
Easter eggs on sale,
The day after Xmas,
Begging to be bought,
And eaten to excess!
Chocolate, oh chocolate,
A mouthful of treats,
You are so bad for me,
But still taste so sweet!
