In these days of austerity
It’s getting to be a treat
To go out for a few pints
And have a bite to eat,
So, Please Mr Pub Landlord
Grant me just a little wish
Bring back the vinegar bottle
So I can splash me bit of fish.
Those little plastic sachets
You’ve generously placed there
Supposedly have perforation
But they just refuse tear.
I need that essential liquid
Over me chips and cod
To transpose it from wonderful
To meal fit for a demi god.
I sit there by the mimute
Growing more and more tense
Looking at the pile of sachets
That just won’t dispense
In despair I eat my meal
Before it grows cold
But it’s just not the same
Without that liquid of gold.
I shall add that designer to
That list of those folk that
I’d like to meet in a dark alley
When I’ve got my baseball bat
A pox on the plastics industry
Once thought a packaging solution
Now a source of anger and despair
And the growing oceanic pollution.
I’m just a simple type of being
So many modern things I hate
Just give me fish and taties
Hot, served on a real plate
And I reall dont think that
I’m asking rather a lot
For vinegar in a real bottle
And salt and pepper in a pot.
Categories:
perforation, anger, food, humor,
Form: Rhyme
Great sensitivity only used
to find the next available space
hiding from or dodging the pressure,
embarking on a fearful race
Just to avoid the necessary,
clenching its fist to the face
But gradually, it’ll catch up the pace
And begin puncturing
like the perforation of a lace.
every obstacle avoided
germinates a mole
Starting like scratches,
the deficit will be a large hole
So much running is inevitably
creating an ulcerous sole
No growth or maturity,
only tossed by insecurity
from pole to pole
And allowing consequences
seat on the throne
to play a devastating role
Categories:
perforation, dedication, desire, destiny, devotion,
Form: Prose Poetry
anticipation of glory
peels slow the overature of
imaginative boundaries
blooming marvelous rays
of reflecting light
a disconnection to what
is mere shadow
to what was home just hours ago
keeping minutes no longer gregarious
now refracting light of what once
was dream
eye holding form
solid connections being made
creation all over again
or for the 1st time
perceiving a shared birth
in the pleasure
of silent narrative
How Far......................
How Deep
Filling up
Shrinking in
the vacuum of space
continue please
each footprint left is
a barrier replaced
What was a mere perforation
now will spout free
Cut me deeper
Press me harder
Please more violent
Rip me
Churn me
Ruin me
My heart attacked
My heart aches
My heart breaks
Oh, open heart
there are indeed boundaries
to how much madness this
space can take
Oh, open heart
My Heart
Cut wide open
Categories:
perforation, analogy, heartbreak, heartbroken, imagery,
Form: Free verse
Perforation.
“On the top what do you like”? She asked me.
“I don’t know”, I replied.
At that time my reply appeared
Baked potato and chutney.
She grinned.
I asked, “To you”?
She replied, “um, me, love,
Who loves me a great, I like that.”
Our eyes met
Whether answer was there
I don’t know.
Later she married with a foreign doctor.
I’m still thinking
whether she found her loving destination.
One day I saw her
Alone in the market with a pram.
I stepped towards her in traffic jam.
Red light didn’t turn into green.
I remained awaiting a long perforation.
Categories:
perforation, desire, farewell, feelings, longing,
Form: Concrete
Wrap, rap a Christmas wrap
open the mind turn on the tap,
a roll of paper with colouration
metres or yards without perforation,
to be carefully folded with a gift inside
a present for the season you wanna hide,
it'll add to excitement on Christmas day
when the careful wrapping will be thrown away
after being opened by rip and tear
to reveal slippers, socks, or underwear.
Rap, wrap a Christmas rap
not quite a minefield but still a trap,
would you begin with 'w' or wiith an 'r'
because starting with a 'c' would be a carp too far,
so rap or wrap it's a dit's time to nap
and when you awaken from the alcoholic cup
it's time for you and the washing-uo,
the drying of the crocks will be the last lap
it's time to slip into your Christmas Wrap,
now cosy and warm and the whiskey in reach
as once again you've missed HM's speech,
the broadcast and your nap did not overlap,
surprise, surprise, you missed her Christmass RAP.
So this must do there's no need to clap
it's only twelve months to pick rap or wrap.
now is the time, it's over, this is a WRAP.
Categories:
perforation, christmas,
Form: Rhyme
drips drops of water
constantly dives on a rock-
slow perforation
Categories:
perforation, on work and working
Form: Haiku
I've travelled some distance now.
Left you behind somehow, nestling
in the newspapers which wrapped the glasses.
Time passes
Memories in a box and stored in the loft
with the duplicate bits and pieces
we didn't want or need. No need.
Time passes
Sometimes the past nudges the present,
but we ignore it; turn our backs. No relapse.
Grasping second chances. No backward glances.
Time passes
We journey on, smiling, laughing,
disregarding the occasional 'what if?', an
aperitif to a future without repeated mistakes.
As time passes
we ditch the stuff that history is made of
and pack only for the future;
its perforation into the now not needed.
Time has past. Let us toast what will be.
Categories:
perforation, life
Form: Free verse
You perforate my normality
with snap-shots of the past.
Images of yesteryear form
a slide show which interjects,
dove-tailing, sneaking in to
the now with the stealth of
the stealthiest fox.
Distracted from the present
my mind meanders down-stream,
pausing at a bridge arched over now
and then. Remembering when I was younger,
carefree, flitting between hearts,
scattering the lovelorn in my wake
like sown seeds, lost, never harvested.
Then flippancy of youth. The transience.
Easy come easy go -
before the burden of emotion takes its toll.
My fickle fingers touched your heart -
then dropped it, hot potato-like;
craved for then petulantly discarded,
out of fashion, gone, onto the next .....
Yet here you are merging then with now.
You found me somehow, and I you.
Back to the future. Time travelled
and catapulted into familiarity.
The perforation of normality.
Present in the present with the steel
of the steeliest fox.
Categories:
perforation, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse