Best Slippy Poems
Sailed across the sea to Dublin
then drove west to County Clare.
To the small village called Doolin,
'tis stout I'II be drinkin' there.
The craic as they say is mighty
In Gus Connors cosy pub,
at night there's always a cèilì
and stout served with homely grub.
Then the floor clears for set dancing
and they dance a set or two,
to the sound of the tin whistle
the bodhran and fiddle too.
Next morn saw the Cliffs of Moher
on the Wild Atlantic way
and the Aran Isles in Galway
In the teeth of Galway bay.
Sometimes you won't be so lucky
mists might roll in from the sea,
with howling winds like a banshee
beware! paths might slippy be.
Calm days you might see seals basking
when the skies are blue and clear,
they're the selkie's, I'm not jokin'
I've seen some at Doolin Pier.
The limestone rocks of the Burren
with a landscape like the moon,
It’s renowned for flora unique
all the rocks are oblique hewn.
Last day I drove south to Blarney
to kiss the old Blarney stone.
And now I never stop talking
wife calls me the walking drone.
Drove to the M8 for Dublin
for a two and half hour ride
then stopped just outside the city
honour those that sadly died.
At Glasnevin there’s a graveyard
brave men and boys, Irelands pride
and in the towns and country
fought fiercely and bravely died.
Bronze famine figures at dockland
with children, women, and men
and to see them you'd be saddened
thousands died in Ireland then.
Drove to the port for the ferry
t'was pouring the sky had paled
my days in Ireland were merry
and at six the ferry sailed.
Dad, how I love to recall
The days when I was very small,
On your lap, ear upon your chest,
Moments like these I loved the best.
Holidays with coastal walks,
Singing songs and having talks.
Shadow puppets on the wall.
Picking me up after a fall.
Saucepan lids and banging pans
Singing MacNamaras band.
With my 'slippy' on your head,
Auntie Mary stories before bed.
A too-ra-loo-ra lullaby.
Flying kites in the sky.
Waves waves you can't catch me,
Egg and chips for our tea.
Gear changing in the car.
Making an elastic band guitar.
Sticky toffee, Turkish delight.
Looking at the stars at night.
These memories bring so much pleasure,
Of a childhood that I treasure,
So on this special fathers day
There's just one thing I want to say.....
...... I love you xx
17th June 2017
For my dad on Father's day tomorrow.
Well Plastered
Sippy
Hippy
Upon Stumbling into the Barber’s
Snippy
Hippie
Flower Child Wets Himself
Drippy
Hippie
Peace, Love & Clumsiness
Slippy
Hippie
The Cheeky Free Sprit
Lippy
Hippie
Written June 7, 2015
Can't go out
Weather won't permit
Too cold, too wet, too slippy
Dressed up warm
I clean and cook
And wash and iron and polish
Listen to the radio
Despair at the news
Hum to the music
Escape from the world
Enter boredom
Slowly at first
Then snaking into the psyche
Banging with frustration
Screaming at the world
I wan't to explode
Growing Up In A Christian Household
My dad was such a FRAMER then that I oft just felt like a FARMER,
No alternative routes accepted, no reasons other,
Only their special Christian gospel that did mother,
Slippy slimy slowness, a slave’s sleeve slipped in for sloth.
17/12/2015
On our disparitive continuum
when after dusk the dawn is flowering
and skies aglow in rose chrysanthemum
have scattered banished darkness, cowering;
And when the silver drizzled fingerlings
traipse slippy streaks upon our timid hold
of dimpled melodies the robin sings
beneath an ever blinking marigold;
In oscillation then returns a choice
between relinquished self or dim retorts
where fools admonish rain and wise rejoice
reflective puddles pooled on tennis courts;
Since by the day is night from whence the day,
and by the morning clouds a midday rain -
in either or exists enough to say
that by the by for none should one complain;
For when tomorrow reigns and shadows clear,
while through replenished streams fresh water flows,
what babbles life in dawn ‘til stars appear
is that by which my daughter Lily grows;
And though at times unsmooth, my pendulum
will always sway by her empowering;
the brightest light on my continuum
whose love brought back a father, cowering.
4/7/2017
I wish the world was made of cubes,
Four flat sides and a top ~
For I cant stand the slippy things,
That tend to slide or flop.
From piles of paper falling down
Upon my dirty floor ~
To odd shaped bottles and fans I have,
Like one gigantic junk drawer.
But if the world was made of cubes
sitting in neat stacks ~
Then things would not fall over things
And this place wouldn‘t look like crap.
two legged human
product of nature..
whether liked or not
cant be altered..
gift of life in the heaven on universe
god made everything easy in reserve..
evolved and evolved
brain grown human,
brought hell on earth
now no pure air, even to breath..
boundaries and passports
race and religion
caste and gender
divided the people
why all I wonder?
born as a species, superior of intelligent
got named by color & caste, is it an accident?
why do they tag ?
why do they label?
I am a human!
I am a human!
why do they tag ?
why do they label ?
plant, animal species
never looked down the other
but for brain grown human
haven't learnt anything better!
language and color
IQ and certificates
to live a human,
are the only credentials
billion years wonder...
what a saddest natures blunder?
i am a human!
why do they tag?
line(law) of control! came by default
every other species knew
not ever to assault!
but, who gave the permission?
to divide the earth to submission
brain grown human
haven't learnt anything except aggression ...
new born puppy
with raw skin slippy
never been labelled nude..
Alas, natures creation
got termed as rude!
lust and greed
poisoned the universe
divinity and sacred
got mocked and questioned !
when every species
still been controlled by nature..
brain grown human
judged everything
to prove he is matured...
In the era of technology
lost every inner sight of human-ology
tribes are tagged
as indigenous species..
what a nerve?
billion years wonder...
Is he a saddest natures blunder?
i am a human!
i am a human!
why do they tag me?
I marvel at the hope found in evolution,
The message of newness everyday;
The ancestry, use of strength, genetics,
The honouring of sex and life’s sway.
The knowledge that behaviour matters,
What I do daily determines my genes,
That I pass on to my children, grandkids,
And influences my relationship scenes.
To take belief out with its fine context,
Is cruel, dangerous and unnecessary,
Makes the body clock jeer at the text,
Introduces a slippy catch, not arbitrary.
I can be made happy by visiting the zoo,
By interacting with monkeys which thrill,
Which save me from my introversion wazoo,
Apes, giraffes, camels with expression fill.
I don’t know if god exists, but am sure not,
So if I talk to him, it’s a different experience,
So I’d rather, if in doubt, when I’m fraught,
Speak to animals who have no diffidence.
Looking up at the light
As i am now down in the drain
Being cosy and warm
Its not quite the same
I'm in a channel floating on my back
Something brown brushed me
" Yuchers " what was that!!
Its so dark i couldn't see
An uneaten sandwich
Och, now I'm hungry
It seems I've gone miles
In the darkness and smell
If it was not for the dream
Life would be real swell
Floating under houses
I've gone under streets
Brights eyes in the dark
Blimey, i hope we don't meet
Its seem like i've come to another end
I pity these spiders
Who are washed round the bend
Hey! up ahead i see dry land
I feel cunning now, have to think of a plan
I need to navigate, and use my nose
But down in these drains
Its suffered some blows
I reach the point where i climb the wall
With two little legs, I'm sure to fall
I laugh because they can't climb the bath
I'm struggling with, their basic path
Its grimy, slippy, smelly and sticky
This aroma of us, is very sickly
So to all you spiders, who are washed down the drain
I can understand, why life's never the same
Repost
[in the interest of peace and harmony: this is
an observation on needles in general and not
on Covid vaccinations]
*
I’ve no front teeth cos when I was twenty four
I lost those teeth to a very slippy floor
I’m nineteen stone and as big as I may be
There ain’t no way you’re sticking needles into me
I lost my leg back in nineteen ninety three
A Great White Shark bit it off below the knee
I bore that pain as I bled into the sea
But there ain’t no way you're sticking needles into me
The gash on my neck which I did when I was shaving
Sure did sting but with no ranting and raving
It took a while to heal up and my blood ran free
But there ain’t no way you’re sticking needles into me
I grew up with my fists up for my neighbourhood was rough
The guns and knives (that’s just the wives) and punch ups made me tough
No shank and no machete made me turn about and flee
But there ain’t no way you’re sticking needles into me
I haven’t any fingers on my left hand anymore
They had an altercation with a spinning power saw
So pain and me, you see, share familiarity
But there ain’t no way you’re sticking needles into me
*
[Just to clarify… I’m not 19 stone (266 pounds), I do have front teeth, I have two legs, eight fingers, two thumbs and I’m not scared of needles… form an orderly queue ladies…]
Caged magnetic daydreams of lucid migration;
I’ve been there before. It’s forbidden:
Orchard carved calligraphy crisply cut -
Spiraled surface-scratched immortality
Dimly azure, aglow on videotape,
Red, blue, green. Nature’s baby grand.
An organic player-piano ceaseless
In mellow tone, perched potpourri hillside,
Plucking raspberry notes of beautiful song;
Translucent aches nestled by slippy wake
That ricochet ripples, careening whispers
Through rendezvous dreams.
Seductive susurrus, sentient, shadowy,
Teasing temptation longed to taste;
Siren’s breathiness gurgles in devilish dive,
Swooshes, swoops, swallows. Tickles.
Siren’s breathless gurgle chokes drowned lies.
But…so serene. Feather soft tranquility.
Lyrical folly forbidden. Salmon pink.
2/3/2017
_____________________________________________
Writer’s note:
Told as a pet parakeet (while his owner listens to Radiohead’s song Videotape) whose cage is hung in the window of a cottage overlooking a stream through an orchard while the sun goes down who was a fish in a past life but, sadly, drowned due to a mental disorder which caused him to believe he was a bird and, consequently, spend all day trying to fly out of the water…until the day he refused to use his gills to breathe since, after all, birds don’t have gills.
There is one job I could never do
ever since leaving school this was a no
never felt any real direction at that time
but a fish shop job was never ever so
The smell of fish always put me off
even from a early age to smell
I just couldn't stand this aroma
fish and me would not ever gel
Today when I walk past a fish shop
just have to move on up my speed
so glad to reach another store
for to any other shop I'll take lead
The thought of handling these creatures
so slippy, slimy, and lengthy things
my answer would be an immediate no
foreboding fish thoughts mindfully brings
Fishy smell is not at all me
its funny as I don't cause a fuss
most foods I like even some I love
but take away fish or I'll get the bus
( This is written about the one job I could never do for the smell would make me run away)
A Jolly Fisherman -
a rhyme for children
Jim, a jolly fisherman,
went up from his boat
and said to boys near him,
"I've just been afloat.
I've brought you some fish
from there in the sea,
and I have here a dish.
Fish, for afternoon tea!"
"But our mummy gets cake",
said the boys, one, two, three,
"She won't want us having
some fish from the sea.
In the evening, she'll bring it,
but not on your dish.
We've dishes at our house -
all you could wish!
There are blue ones and red ones
and fancy lime plate.
We'll eat fish in evening:
fish for to rate!"
And so... jolly fisherman
gave them the large fish,
and the boys held them - slippy -
for they'd said no to dish.
In the evening they ate fish,
cooked one by one,
and their mummy said kindly:
"Oh........... nice fish for your tum!"
8/16/2022
Life, a mount, full of rage,
What a path, like a cage,
Earth, a ball, on the fish,
Mute and silence, wish
Slippy, fickle back, like a ray,
What a ride, milky way!
Fishy ball, on the horn
On the fish we all born.