Hey
You
Yeah you
How you doing?
Getting on with stuff
In this rough of roughest times?
Or wobbling a bit?
Sit in your jimjams all day. It’s cool.
Anyone with anything worth saying
Loves you
Be annoyed a lot
And try to smile
But don’t fret if it takes a while
The ups and downs are real. Feel em.
If you have a hug to hand, use it.
If not, accept the alternative
Through screens
We mean it

This is for us
who work with those
we love or tolerate
(hate seems a bit strong
for them we’re forced among,
it’s not like we’re a picnic either...)

You are mainly wonderful,
sometimes misguided,
but we’ll hide grumps
in flippant huffs
because we know the pull
is mostly in the same direction

But know we miss the scrum,
the ****** staff room air,
hurried tea and coffee
and meaningful cake

Daily, we take time to thank you
as we grapple this stupidity
that dwarfs all sense

The dinner table desk
is a lonely place

To clap, or not to clap, that is the question
Whether it’s nobler in the mind to give
Undying love to those who save us
Or by opposing, expose those
Who have systematically underfunded
A public fed service with malice
It dies, we die, there’s the rub
Chatter and cheer will rightly raise from
Many whose hearts are true and proud
Whose hearts must be hardened
Next at the ballot box to lift us:
There is no country without unity
No unity without truth, no economy
Without each and every soul, always

Barb says it’ll pass
and by May we’ll be done,
can get back to having fun
she says, if not before

And Angela’s had enough
and is meeting up with Amy
for a G&T,
might even protest the virus

Dave the Rave had his mates round
says it was sound AF,
as luck would have it
when the cops showed up
they’d all gone home

back to their families
cos some of them are
key workers and they
didn’t want to keep em up late,
they’re good like that

One: my life spins in small circles
that very infrequently stretch
to somewhere as far as Benidorm

Two: that after 12 years married
she’s right about most things
so I’ll listen more

Three: a lot of annoying stuff
is dust in a much bigger wind
so look for the wins

Four: the kids are what it’s for
and all their silliness, fear and anger
is a handle to clutch on to

Five: we are here and alive
and we should forever
fight to keep it so

Man,
a glut of time
a surfeit, abundance,
embarrassment

for some,
the shackle breaking freedom
gives a new vigour
that’ll be forgotten
when the treadmill restarts

for others,
it’s the edifice,
the granite cliff to scale
to reach
the same old stuff
as always

Down the line
your fat self sits content
at a life spent mostly decent

Your green cheeks absorb for now
and by ****** you grow,
occasionally showing off
to love and wince at later
on Timehop

You don’t think of roots.

Why would you?
Your wood grows supple
and strong with you
alone

But roots make you belong
and yield

Our youthful skill
of ignoring feelings
sticks with some

It’s only us that’s broken

these once unspoken words
reverberate around a globe
that doesn’t wait for us

gets on with growth and bloom
and spawn and gambol
same as always

as children we cry
and bemoan our lot
unjust and unwarranted

but the doublespeak
is busted by the healing
all around

The incomplete dark
of a suburban night
makes seeing the great beyond
hard

but patience, peace
and allowing the eyes to adjust
finally reveals a truth

firefly flicks burn
amongst the static majesty
of constellations
reassuring that all is
still in motion

from our frozen homes
we can gaze and hope
as surely as our kin
watched stars fall like rain

In the case of
minor poet versus hangover
I find in favour of hangover

minor poet shall cover costs
with ill thought words
and petty half rhymes
and pay a fine of couplets
and regular metre
like proper poems

may god have mercy on your headache

Thoughts gather and pool
and the weight of wet clothing
sits heavier

a moment slowed,
where falling rain
mutes some senses,
nudges others

catching melancholic glances
puddled and ponded
can spark reflection,
but not at depth

set a course back home
to hang leaden jackets
and wait

You fed the words to me
slowly at first
easily digested syllables
that helped me navigate
a knee-high world

as a gift,
it’s not immediately apparent
how unlocking sounds
that name the nameless
saves us

but with time,
joy and adversity
the truth of our voice
shines through

to abandon words
is to lose one more grip
so
where you can

keep talking

Walking
like the hardest game
of hide and seek
I’ve ever played

On the whole,
I love my fellow man
but the walk was the thing
away
that kept the humours balanced

So if I know you
and our paths cross out
don’t be offended if I doff
and move on

Unless you are a bumblebee
or the trill of a spring visitor
you aren’t what I’m looking for,
for now

Stop dropping off fledglings
like I can just ignore
something that is not yet grown
and expected to start functioning
alone!

Last year,
you cocky redbreasts thought
that three could bob happily
in the construction site
and thankfully I found no bodies
or feather puffs

This year,
that cheeky blackbird
who happily stalks the lawn
(though moss pile is more accurate)
has dropped bright and happy chicks
in the pell-mell mix of my
****** horticulture

And don’t get me started on the pigeons!

The cats round here,
like everywhere
are at best loveable rogues
with claws on fingers
and toes that like to ****
for spits and giggles

In these times
I turn to nature to save me
but you crank my anxiety
like the ***** grinder’s
forbidden monkey

Gimme a break, please?

Can you see how much
we need each other?!

All this “I am a rock
I am an island”
solipsistic claptrap
exposed
cos we need Joan and John
at the supermarket
and the folks at A&E
and the techies
streaming lifelines
while we figure how to be

Now, behind our keyboards
we might not be warriors,
but worriers who realise
how close we are to crashing

and yeah, some **** cash in
but let’s not forget
so when the panic lifts
we figure novel penance
and say our goodbyes

So hugs are currently virtual,
but our care for once
is real

Maybe that’s the virus deal

Maybe we’re done with
u ok ***?
so when we re-emerge
we can see clearly
**** sapiens
are one species
and switch on to each other,
sisters and brothers alike

Being nice is for life

I walked in grey today
intent on letting the scale
of the problem spiral

I sat on an illicit log
and allowed the panic and sorrow in
to grip my throat
fold me inwards
and paint the worst case scenario

but the day wouldn’t let me sink,
my river companion lazily waved,
sinuous fish flowing through,
two green blurs of woodpeckers
tickled me to lift my head again

The crowning azure flash
of the kingfisher
shocked a grin,
unfolded
and I was back to the dizzying
ups and downs of everything

As with the wind’s cold reminder,
as with the new leaf’s shock,
we remember when we are

This grey overcoat holds sway
but in its way, familiar
and fitting

The technicolour
glitz of balmy days
failed to keep us captive

Rattle on your prison bars today
and swing low
for unsure tomorrows

A broken clarity
scored by fat pigeon coos
and the gangster chatter of crows

A winged court is in session and
they are not finding in our favour

Their behaviour’s changed
so even the ranks
of hedge birds are emboldened
to thumb their beaks
and sing clear in number
and the woodpecker’s gavel falls

When our industry prevails
will we seek vengeance,
or preserve this
hallowed cacophony?

A little splinter today
a tiny shiv
to ***** at our resolve
to flatten the curve

buckle in and fatten up
in your locality
so beautiful days
can be unlocked again

Pinched fingers
on the tape ribbon
of this reel to reel life
have caused time to dilate,
elongating sounds drawn out
til no high pitched shrieks
or panicked squeals remain

an ****** stupor settles on us
and our slackened jaws
pass treacle speech
as another day peaks and troughs

unexpectedly we return
to analogue
with little in the way of
selection or control,
forgotten scratches and skips
audible once more,
to be ignored or heard

Your ubiquity in my memory
has led me to miss
the fact you are now missed

in the day-glo green-yellow
gardens of eighties summers,
scattering mother’s pride,
you were overlooked in the search
for brighter birds
with better song

so I try to cherish the
rattle and chatter
of your extended family
alongside me now

no songs for me
to join your mourning
but your chip-chip banter
tells a cautionary tale

I’ll do my best to listen and learn
even as our own gardens dwindle

I guess this is the trip
of today’s triptych,
still surrounded by
hours of life reinvented

My feet are the same
though achey from lack of use
and my tongue is still in my head,
though less flapped

Our lingua franca
is now a babble of
isolation song

It’s not often
we sing together
so let’s be loud
and love proper hard

I have a small patch of land
with some grass, a little pond,
flower beds full of plants
the world chose
in the key of chaos

I can sit in it
while madness swirls
and clamps down
and can find
a jot of peace

But I know others can’t,
so I will hold my knee from jerking
while we all figure out
a better way to be

Air with sinuous folds
flows fluid around me
thick with spring ebullience

each footstep more like
arm stroke
swimming languid
in spring itself

the expected hiss-splash
replaced by irrepressible birdsong
and a thrum of insect wings

Strange times indeed
when time itself has
adopted corporate technique
and seeks efficiencies

cutbacks in shaded
public daydreams
and an addendum added
so on the clock is replaced
by elongated shifts
in fluorescent lighted kitchens
or fuggy bedrooms

and yes, we will accept
the company line
it’s for the greater good

but your worst innovation
is to bring forward collection
of our family and friends’
souls and smiles
like you can shave some time
to make a smoother run
down the line

these things aren’t yours to take yet

Sundayish
with sun on us
remembered dishes
passed from smile hand
to hand

The love does not diminish,
immutable,
like all the good stuff

I’ll hold mine in reserve
for every one of you I miss

This morning
bird song
like black tar ******
incapacitates

dizzies senses
slight numbed
by minor isolation

all too brief
a moment of reverie holds

before returning to
web spun garage
and forgotten loft

to make busy

With fat-winged thrash and clatter
you endeavour to nest build
in the most precarious of places
cat prowled and mown by me
(if a little infrequently)

You’ll have my admiration,
protection
and whatever feed I can find
as I keep in mind
it’s you who show us the
old normal
amidst the new

I hold your eyes through glass,
conversation stripped
of sibilants and plosives
reduced to a vowel roll
like Charlie Brown’s ma’am

I wrestle with the thought
that this might be our last contact
without contact
although as adults we were hardly
what you’d call tactile
I’d take the chance to hug
and see your smile up close
right now

Settle we must for charades
and snatches of life
as I leave you
in the care of
wonderful strangers

An April fool
run to ground by a bug,
limited to roam a little upstairs,
a little down

I have consumed my body weight
in ones and zeroes,
which is no mean feat

I’ve streamed series,
beaten end of level bosses,
gone back and got mired
in the reeds
of the long reads

This feast,
long anticipated,
has not tasted as planned
and my multimedia catch up
leaves me wanting

When the time comes
I will cut and run
and plash my legs
in the sea to my knees

and I will not capture the moment
with an eye and thought
other than my own

It’s big
and it chews on your thoughts
termite toothed
til you feel your
brain pan is honeycombed
with broken links

To think around it
seems impossible
when from current vantage
you can’t even see its shape

Perspective seems
as hard to find
as eggs and flour

but minutes will hour
hours will day
as always

and time will do it’s thing
turning tragedy
comic

To the average working stiff
the mouth feel of Saturday
always popped and fizzed

a day to get on with the business
of being
without being defined by your business
(shout out to all in retail and shift work
your heartache is saved for other verse)

This Saturday has come
with revised terms and conditions
that seem to have rather stunted
the former purpose
like a PC revision
gutting all the cheeky dirt
for contemporary sensibilities

Fine, but understand
that from behind closed doors
a million folk are figuring
how to **** about in a myriad
of new ways

Ye can take our pubs,
but ye cannae take
our shenanigans!

I began a thought
followed it really closely
until dazzled by a mote of dust
that drifted by me

momentarily dumbfounded
I grasped to catch
where I had been heading
when a cat crossed the garden
and intent on its actions
I stalled once more

I shook my head
and pinned my fingers
to the keyboard
to rattle out important words
but then I wondered
how the Easter Islanders
celebrated Easter
and went down that rabbit hole
for an hour

Resurfacing I finally began
and sentences flowed
for a good five minutes

until I saw
that it was time
for dinner

No one on this wet rock is self-made
they all got fat with a safety net,
foundations laid
by mothers and fathers who gave
time, lives, thought, truths
so we can do what we do

It’s this we should continue

Let those who can
burn bright and earn,
that’s fine, they’ll cope
but your concern should be
the bedrock beneath us

Your every task should be to
feed, clothe, educate and make safe.

If you want Great,
supposed lost,
fulfil your role as public servants,
right and honourable,
that’s the only real cost

Our feet scuffed drying ruts
along the riverbank
and we gave the land
our thanks for holding up

Alongside us, green bright head
curious,
a duck and drake kept pace

I know the quizzical eye
was a bread request
but you’re as lucky as the rest of us

Above us, swimming languid
in unbounded blue
two buzzards circled

My mind got to thinking:
what fate are they
hoping for?

There were these moments when you’d remember something I’d forgotten
Or blotted from my memory
Often highly embarrassing episodes where I’d exposed my clear ineptitude
And you’d lead me back through them, laughing,
Walking in the gardens of my shame and naming all my
Clear inadequacies until you creased with tears in your eyes

And you’d think I’d hide
But it was love
and I miss you

You’d quite often leave a small amount of liquid
In every glass you drank from
So that every time I picked it up in a hurry I’d hurl it
Onto my trousers, or sofa
Or the pile of letters you’d refused to open and I’d curse and rankle
Wishing you would just tip things down the drain

And you’d think I would go insane
But it was love
and I miss you

And when you pulled the duvet round yourself to make the perfect
Bed based sausage roll and I shivered through
The night because despite the fact I’m twice your size
You had a vicelike grip that would never
Once
Slip

I’m ill-equipped to deal with the real of you being gone

I pace the places that you were and get lost a lot

But not lost like we used to when you’d tell me it was just around the corner
And I’d point to the fact that the century had provided me
With an infinite map in my pocket
And you told me “**** it, let’s just go this way and see what we see.”
And we’d end up in some seedy part of town with some ****** staring me down and you’d hide behind me laughing
And we’d have to run for it, me with these knees

And you think that I’d go mad at you
And tell you that you wind me up
And tell you that I’ve had enough and you can figure you own **** out from now on

And now you’re gone
And it was love
and I miss you

Remember a time you weren’t here
and your day rolled free

honey warm joy
holding your soul
in a cwtch

catching their eyes
and shine of smiles,
lining your insides
for days and times like these

we build these pots
and stocks to tide us by
with the benefit
of no selfish deficit

allow yourself a sip
to reminisce
and ease the days
until we can replenish
togetherness

Listless
but not lacking lists
we drift from start of task to task
half a heart engaged
half a mind to dash
make a break for clean air
and there’s the rub

our chimp brains love
and chimp arms seek hugs
but they must stay empty
at least
until the dust settles

My heart’s lub-dub
pushes blood half lost.

In the lab they would no doubt see
an elegant double helix
pointing to a certain ancestry

but I see faded yellow turtle necks
and kitchen based bowl cuts
rain hammered car roofs
peering through steamed windows
at the sea

I smell lemon zest
taste cake mix
and hear the muffled,
distance thwarted hum
of Radio Wales

In amongst my GATC
you are woven unloseable,
a shepherd to my instincts

I give thanks with each breath

I’m not letting it stop me,
I’ll just carry on living my life
he said
treading dog **** deep into the ****
while under each arm
were many bags of bog rolls
puy lentils and spelt flour
that within the hour
would begin their months long spoil
at the back of a damp garage

Us writ large

exposed by this little
biological *******
which, let’s remember, does not think

Just because Dagenham Dave
or Portia
don’t either
does not make us sparring partners

Evoke Dunkirk or the blitz
if you want
but please
do it getting off your ****
on the 1995 bottle of ouzo
from the back of your drinks cupboard

at home

#dontbedicks

The vitriol drips
entered through eyes or loose lips
take hold and make most
a little sick

At the same time
chlorophyll is tickled
and the ambient temp
clicks biological switches
and the earth does it’s thing

It won’t stop because we’re hurting,
quite the opposite,
it’ll take its chance to breathe
without us being *******

So when we’re done coughing
and it couches us again in
long grass and butterfly kisses,
let’s try not to forget