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Chris Allen Poem
they do
and sheep possess concentration levels
that allow them to watch television
which is extraordinary
and so is broccoli
i like polo mints
my daughter calls them doughnut mints
her favourite book is called 'stop that cow'
which involves a 357 mag with an 8-inch barrel
a pig in a forty-nine dollar wig
the agitated cow asks, "you wouldn't happen to have
a pack of cigarettes."
the guinea hog replies, "i don't smoke."
"i didn't think so."
i met my best friend in a cafe
he told me statistics mean nothing
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2024
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Chris Allen Poem
we're in a cafe and he's unsure if he can
finish his slice of CAKE, one of those
fondant numbers and so we've made an arrangement
which will allow me to consume half of it
but then, "dad, i actually think i can finish it."
i get a message from a friend asking how are the kids today
i reply like what i make of the french revolution;
it's too early to tell
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Allen Poem
i've seen it several times
someone motioning, flourishing
waggling, swinging, curving
hunching, moulding, stooping
pulling shapes, a twirling
a form, a delineation, shadows
fingers, tree branches, winding creeks
sometimes a head inclines
obstructing the cityscape
what are they listening to?
what are they talking about?
we've done it, we've become greenwood
sometimes a jungle
i've done it alone after dropping you off
cold storage becomes publicised
i've done it
i've done it, yes, i've cried in
the car
alone
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Allen Poem
have you heard of the cloud appreciation society?
Jesus Christ
cloud spotters
points for clouds
you got ya stratocumulus
I just saw a cumulus congestus tower
thirty points for that
fifty-five points for stacked plates
kelvin-helmholtz
sundogs
rainbows
pyrocumulus
smoke from the kettle counts
one bloke submitted steam from his fried sausages
crematoriums are out I said
some of them disputed my evaluations
I've got the handbook I told them
I understand the science of the sky
one said we should have cloud spotting VAR
I told them sod it then
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Allen Poem
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
now there's a man who likes his food
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2021
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Chris Allen Poem
This is a poem, for the wind
Not for you to read, dear reader.
Be gone - and allow only the breeze in.
Go on, hop it - I welcome the draft.
You are eccentric; I like that
Back door gales and wrecked heel tabs
Slammed hatches; a gateway to gusts
Yo-Yo Ma on the ocean; in shorts.
Trying out - Haydn and seeking
We are energy and so are you
You are old enough now dear wind
To host your own podcast.
I'll set up a mic and table for you
If I can be your first and only guest.
Five year olds in the sandbox,
Scaffolding into the next century.
Babble, taradiddle. Bunkum.
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2026
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Chris Allen Poem
his nose was distracting
but so was mine
i listened to it ; in the car on the way
there
the bass was in my brain
what if he'd never heard it?
the questions kept coming
questions about
stuff
thinking about the book of judges
i saw paintings
i followed him home
hid beneath the window pane
but heard nothing
i didn't get the job
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2023
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Chris Allen Poem
They call it the Sunday Scaries
They call it the Bubble Visualisation Exercise
I felt the polished wood of my table
The softness of my son's hair
My pencil snapped when I started my Gratitude Journal
Turn to the person next to you and tell them about a teacher
As loud as God unzipping his fly
Sat in the back not being able to find the steering wheel
They laughed
They were charmed
The shapes of stories
The shapes of restfulness and well-being
My son is playing piano as I write this
I'm going to stop writing
If this isn't nice, I don't know what is
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2022
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Chris Allen Poem
there's a bloke i know, who keeps going on
about his bowels
but besides that, i am attempting a poem
which uses meter effectively
you know, so it has rhythm and stuff
and subtle 'feminines' at the end of iambic pentameter
so that it creates something
but i haven't got the time for this
like watching a peter jackson movie, sitting
there
in the cinema, thinking..."i've got stuff to be getting on with."
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2023
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Chris Allen Poem
we pass through the gates
we pass the kindergarten with it's colourful play area
we pass the primary school with the din of laughter
we pass the middle school with the hubbub of whirlwind psychosis
we are hit with the high school building
we are hit with wild landscapes
we are hit with fickle wassails
we are hit with hoodoo troopers
i teach Wordsworth
there's always something missing
we come from a world that is more heavenly
our childhood happened to someone else
i''m going to give up poetry and teaching
and go into clowning
Copyright © Chris Allen | Year Posted 2021
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