I used to jump from aeroplanes
Naked
With nothing
But a parachute
A prayer
And a pair of Doc Marten boots
I've landed in some strange places
Once in a chair
Once or twice in the mud
A Woman once
I said will you?
She said no!
But she meant yes
I guess?
One time I fell through a roof
And landed in someone's bed!
The husband wasn't very pleased
I can't repeat what he said
But I learned a few new words
Once I fell into a hole
Then I realised someone had died
I couldn't wait to get out
As shouted'',Help!!!!''.
I fell in a well
Well that's another story
To tell
I even landed in a stolen car
But I didn't get far
I once dropped into a giant cooking pot ouch!!
Boy, it was hot!
One time in a church
The Vicar said ''Do you''?
I said I do
Two sugars no milk, please
I was awarded a medal, with a pin
But it gave me an infection
And ended up in a hospital bed
Got really ill and had to stay in
I had to stop parachuting
But I still have my Doc Marten boots
Don't dare tell you where I hanged them from
Ahh, life's full of surprises
I think, I'll buy a Army tank
See where that gets me.
My gran doesn’t ‘get’ this woke society
I told her that there’s a new sobriety
We went for a walk to see what we would see
And show her we all can be what we will be
Men can be women and girls can be boys
And most men in showbiz have that certain poise
I’ve seen a guy wearing a little black dress
And people whose gender is something to guess
But live and let live is the latest doctrine
Though sometimes I wouldn’t know where to begin
Someone approached us in pink dungarees
And Doc Marten boots and a beard to ‘their’ knees
With glitter mascara, diamanté tiara
A dog tag that said nothing more than ‘Tamara’
‘Their’ Mohican hair style was quite a strange sight
Twas dyed rainbow colours and went left to right
I tried not to notice ‘their’ tightly strapped breasts
But bits were protruding from her (their) string vest
In an unguarded moment I said, “Evening Miss.”
He/she/it/they gawped and said, “That’s remiss.”
I told he/she/it/they, “I’m not of this age
So don’t take offence, please don’t get in a rage.”
‘They’ strode off and snarled like a pantomime cat
And my little old gran said, “What The F*** Was That?”
Embellished by the artist's
softest marten hairbrush
unfolds creatively on the canvas
The view that takes your breath away
when the evening sun is
curved on the edge of the earth
- in the magic hour
Nature's beauty is on full display
It is something exceptional
at every sunset
Notice how the heavens
and the sea is changing
From yellow, orange and pink
- to purple and intense red
Gracefully and powerful
Full of wonder I breathed deeply in silence
observes and appreciates the work of art
Her hair is multi~coloured,she wears big doc marten boots,her body is covered in pictures,where the tattoo gun ran loose..she hasn’t got any confidence,and very low self esteem,she paints a smile on her face,that turns into a beam..she values all her friendships,you all make her feel complete,she gets some nasty comments,but those haters she will beat!….she has her own personal struggles,it’s like fighting in a war,she gets tired of fighting a battle,for she has no points to score..she’s defiantly a fighter,she fights for just herself,she don’t need any money,as her friendships are her wealth..she is somebody’s daughter,but she doesn’t give a damn,she feels just like a warrior,her name is just SUZANNE..
Wildlife 21
'Schiessy' a German pine marten,
Was creeping around in the 'garten',
His partner, called Klaus
Shouted "Don't be a louse!
Just cut out zat coughing und fartin'!"
Stone floors whisper of
waterfalls poured through
algae, moss, fern
sedimentary, limestone
layer upon layer formed
from steaming warm springs.
This same granite counter
once graced by
a gazelle - or on its bedrock
a jackal howled, a shy marten
scurried away. This same stone
cut square, smoothed, glazed
and laid in some ultra-modern kitchen
for imbedded fossils to shine
from fifty million years of nature-
a jaguar spirit crouching
ready to leap up,
brushing the
potted ferns
FIRST PLACE in the "Early March 18 Standard" Poetry Contest,
Brian Strand, Sponsor.
The Goddess of the Moon looked down,
Upon the quiet garden.
She watched night creatures at play,
The owl, raccoon and marten,
Seeking as they do each night,
Their simple, humble fare,
And smiled as she watched them,
The breeze catching her hair.
The silver strands float all about,
Her visage so exciting.
So ethereal, so mystical,
Her crystal gaze enticing.
I come each night to watch her dance,
While everyone is sleeping,
And all is quiet, peaceful, still,
The lovely maid comes sweeping,
Silver streaks of moon light,
Through town and wood and glen;
Then morning comes and she is gone,
Till moon rise comes again.
Windowed doubt shadows out peripheral.
Fear balances envisioned in centripetal.
Autumn’s amber hark back hearken.
Forgotten kits cry down, mother marten.
Good fellow robin indicates emending sprite.
Spring expands secret eyes only sight.
Droplets of hope dew days new dawn.
Open arms stretch a point wide yawn.
Hope turns a blind eye in despite way of head,
And blossom into purple and to red.
6-01-16
I face the final test of nature's truth.
The nights coming fast, I travel unheard.
The reverence I feel, was born in my youth,
tempered by sage, burnt offerings for birds.
Tormented by brambles whose thorns I collect
I come to remains of struggles long gone,
feathers and crushed bone, on these I reflect.
I'm hoping once more, my arms are still strong.
A pine marten scurries, close to my step,
the sweet scent of birch gum, his claws unearth.
My arrow's still sheathed, for creeks I have leapt.
Though I grow cold, my spirit is re-birthed.
Tracks at the creek, the water I savor
the thicket moves, my aim must not waver.
01/25/14
dusk turns into night
as pine marten hunts -
moonlight gazes down
summer evening -
a pine marten hunts for prey
under the setting sun
The Goddess Of The Moon looked down,
Upon the quiet garden.
She watched night creatures at play,
The Owl, Raccoon and Marten,
Seeking as they do each night,
Their simple, humble fare,
And smiled as she watched them,
The breeze catching her hair.
The silver strands float all about,
Her visage so exciting,
So ethereal, so mystical,
Her crystal gaze enticing.
I come each night to watch her dance,
While everyone is sleeping,
And all is quiet, peaceful, still,
The lovely maid comes sweeping,
Silver streaks of moonlight,
Through town and wood and glen,
Then morning comes and she is gone,
Till moon rise comes again.
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