"alf" poems
Fahnd 'im lyin' int middle o' t'street
bruised an' battered from t'tramplin' feet.
Ee'd crawled aht from some gutter
an' them cries tha' ee did utter
almost like a knife through butter
cut mi quick an' deep.
'Is broken wings ah tried to treat
gently praying that ee'd be reyt.
But when 'is cry became a stutter
t'world rolled dahn its shutters
an' rahnd mi someone muttered:
" 'is prospects ain't 'alf bleak".
An' that poor lost little 'eap
ah cradled but coun't weep,
til mi arms discerned a flutter.
So in mi chest ee'll see the summer
from that 'ollow haven like no other
where ee can safely sleep.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
A sportin' death! My word it was!
An' taken in a sportin' way.
Mind you, I wasn't there to see;
I only tell you what they say.
They found that day at Shillinglee,
An' ran 'im down to Chillinghurst;
The fox was goin' straight an' free
For ninety minutes at a burst.
They 'ad a check at Ebernoe
An' made a cast across the Down,
Until they got a view 'ullo
An' chased i'm up to Kirdford town.
From Kirdford 'e run Bramber way,
An' took 'em over 'alf the Weald.
If you 'ave tried the Sussex clay,
You'll guess it weeded out the field.
Until at last I don't suppose
As 'arf a dozen, at the most,
Came safe to where the grassland goes
Switchbackin' southwards to the coast.
Young Captain 'Eadley, 'e was there,
And Jim the whip an' Percy Day;
The Purcells an' Sir Charles Adair,
An' this 'ere gent from London way.
For 'e 'ad gone amazin' fine,
Two 'undred pounds between 'is knees;
Eight stone he was, an' rode at nine,
As light an' limber as you please.
'E was a stranger to the 'Unt,
There weren't a person as 'e knew there;
But 'e could ride, that London gent--
'E sat 'is mare as if 'e grew there.
They seed the 'ounds upon the scent,
But found a fence across their track,
And 'ad to fly it; else it meant
A turnin' and a 'arkin' back.
'E was the foremost at the fence,
And as 'is mare just cleared the rail
He turned to them that rode be'ind,
For three was at 'is very tail.
'Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' with the word,
Still sittin' easy on his mare,
Down, down 'e went, an' down an' down,
Into the quarry yawnin' there.
Some say it was two 'undred foot;
The bottom lay as black as ink.
I guess they 'ad some ugly dreams,
Who reined their 'orses on the brink.
'E'd only time for that one cry;
''Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' saves all three.
There may be better deaths to die,
But that one's good enough for me.
For mind you, 'twas a sportin' end,
Upon a right good sportin' day;
They think a deal of 'im down 'ere,
That gent what came from London way.
3.6k
You make it in your mess-tin by the brazier's rosy gleam;
You watch it cloud, then settle amber clear;
You lift it with your bay'nit, and you sniff the fragrant steam;
The very breath of it is ripe with cheer.
You're awful cold and ***** and a-cursin' of your lot;
You scoff the blushin' 'alf of it, so rich and rippin' 'ot;
It bucks you up like anythink, just seems to touch the spot:
God bless the man that first discovered Tea!
Since I came out to fight in France, which ain't the other day,
I think I've drunk enough to float a barge;
All kinds of fancy foreign dope, from caffy and doo lay,
To *** they serves you out before a charge.
In back rooms of estaminays I've gurgled pints of cham;
I've swilled down mugs of cider till I've felt a bloomin' dam;
But 'struth! they all ain't in it with the vintage of Assam:
God bless the man that first invented Tea!
I think them lazy lumps o' gods wot kips on asphodel
Swigs nectar that's a flavour of Oolong;
I only wish them sons o' guns a-grillin' down in 'ell
Could 'ave their daily ration of Suchong.
Hurrah! I'm off to battle, which is 'ell and 'eaven too;
And if I don't give some poor bloke a sexton's job to do,
To-night, by Fritz's campfire, won't I 'ave a gorgeous brew
(For fightin' mustn't interfere with Tea).
To-night we'll all be tellin' of the Boches that we slew,
As we drink the giddy victory in Tea.
2.2k
Tedious
Half-Baked
Egotistical
Erreneous
Assinine
Ridiculius
Troll
Inarticulate
SUBPAR
Tasteless
Execrable
Laughable
Obnoxious
Grotesque
Hopeless
Amateurish
Incompetent
Narcissistic
Counterfeit
Abominable
Reprehensible
Vainglorious
Odious
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
A chance to speak,
Beneath broken sheets,
Caught out in moment,
Dying deep inside.
Evaporate tension,
From little or no knowing,
Growing up alone,
Half loved and half resented.
I come to conclusions,
Just before my death,
Keeping me in memory,
Like you always promised,
Missing me in silence,
No more mourning of past,
Of regrets and despairs.
Promise me you’ll use what I learnt,
Question the decisions of others,
Reluctant or not,
Stay away from their paths,
They only lead you to their futures,
Unknowingly you end their second,
Valiant but alone,
Where you spend life in wandering,
Xrayed life,
Your future makes up nothing
Zorbing inside of your own bubble.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
Light awakens with shrieks of thunder
In the sky, a breathtaking wonder
Grief of rain, within clouds it reside
Half parts meet when heavens collide
Tremble in sky, It longs to fly
Never get close, it just wants to clash
It screams with its fascinating flash
Never afraid of fall, it takes a leap
Ground it's salvation, it was born to seek
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
Down in snowman school where
they learn how not to melt,
well
what fool goes in there?
'Not I,'
I hear the snowball say, but
as I watch the snowball
trickles
trickles
effortlessly deathly
which don't
'alf depress me
away.
So snowmen go to school and
learn how to melt with dignity,
a touch of class, a dash,
learn to do it with panache,
keep your snowballs close at
hand,
be good, stay cool
don't be a snowball type of fool
go to snowman
school.
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
I’ve been quiet for a while,
silence has devoured me
into nothingness,
I’ve been watching more,
perhaps reading
seems too much of an effort
or an act we’d usually do together,
I’ve been thinking,
about you and the times
we’ve spent with one another,
I think I’ve replayed
the first time
I met you
a hundred times
without any exaggeration of the thought,
and I’d replay it
a thousand more times
if it means
your presence by me.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Getting close to people
half-heartedly
will only give you suffering
but alas, sadly
so does getting closer
Maybe, that's why
if one day we do
I would yearn for you
more than I should
it frightens me
to my very core
that you'd leave me
like the rest would
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
Oi, Manchester, why are you so blue?
You built it all, there is nothing you can't do.
We were here first and we will be here last,
Our future is bleak? Well, so was our past.
We've had more than our share of ups and downs,
Aye, it's grim up north, but every class needs its clowns.
Oi, Manchester, chin up arr kid,
If they ask you who built it, you tell 'em we did,
We built this city with rock and roll,
Through rain and shine, with northern soul,
The only thing we never built was a great northern wall,
We invited each people and we welcomed them all.
Manchester, mate, things will get better,
Mother nature tries beat us but we've never let her,
No matter the odds or how savage their action,
We are the great power house, we never lose traction.
Each time we're knocked down we rebuild from the ashes,
we shoulder each other, we each take lashes.
Oi, Manchester, don't you forget your station,
We are the heart, we are the brain and the spine of a nation.
It was here we split the atom, and here where Rolls met Royce,
Swing those monkey arms and sing your Mankey voice
Be proud, be loud, there's no need to tiptoe,
And always remember that WE created VIMTO.
Oi, Manchester, I don't 'alf miss THAT smile,
It's the whole hog, the bees knees, the best by a mile,
There will be a day when we all laugh again,
Brighter, more hopeful, more promising then,
There will always be dark before the dawn,
But, oi, this is manchester, where all dreams are born.
Dec 27, 2020
Dec 27, 2020 at 9:32 AM UTC
The fugitives invaded me in the
sixties series somewhere on
TV,
one armed bandits
one eyed half wits
we watched it all
Janssen
Thinnes and
that lot on the bins
for
a touch of class.
Alf Garnett
he could be a gas
and Irma down the Street
with her
coronation chicken feet.
Taken over
one channel at a time
sublime?
Well it was all in Black and White,
so we could tell the day from night, but
not real life you understand
just pictures on a screen
now repeated
though I have seen them all before
I watch again
I so adore
**** York
Samantha,
wiggling her nose
Bouquets of barbed wire
tied to a rose.
Top cat smarter than Kojak
and the Flintstones in their
dream homes down in Bedrock.
Knock me up some dreams to dream
and I'll scream ******
Norman Bates
Hitchcock laughed at
those blind dates.
Niven
Cribbens
Poppins
moons and balloons and railway children
who'll then tell me where it went then?
Standing for the Anthem,
auntie Beeb and then some
chips and curry sauce of course
it's how we rolled in
Lancashire
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
The slum
When I was born the manger was occupied
I got a cot at a Home run by the salvation- army
and stayed the until my step-grandmother committed suicide
by jumping out of the third-floor window, she was going
to join my grandfather
A funny thing about the window it kept opening up by itself
for years afterwards.
The home, the SA ran was called the slum, the flat we got
nearby, as was also the big white house belonging
to a shipping magnate, he was born in the house and was
not about to leave for a fancy building out of town.
For us children, it was just a name and had no connotation
of poverty or low life.
My best friend Alf lived permanently at the Home and later
became a chief train conductor in South Africa.
I met him once in Johannesburg entrenched in middle classness
big house and servants, something of a change from the slum.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 5:35 AM UTC
fragile,
needing care,
impermanent,
not quite all there
standing
gently swaying
with wavering stare
hand held out
needing care
but garnering
indifference
and misplaced disgust
what if that was
you or me,
or uncle alf
or sister beth
would you want
the world to walk by
deaf to the mumbled cry
these are people
just like us....
these are people...
give a f...
not just a ******* up
sweat stained buck
thrown at them
like they are muck
scraped off the bottom
of your shoe...
cause by god,
this might well
one day be you
seeking truth
and sanity
in the gutter...
fragile...so very fragile
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
**Uncle 'erbert on the Joanna
Aunty Mabel on the mike.
Singing rollout the barrel
All Alf ****** on saturday nite.
Cousin Doris in the armchairs
Face to stop a ****** clock
Giving me the greasy eyeball
And a stare to knock me
round the block
Grandad 'arrys in the money
His nag came in at 1O to 1
Granny Edie's sweet as honey
She get sour when
all the money's gone.
Cousin Cecil pudding and pie
Kissed the girls and made em cry.
And when the boys came out to play
He kissed them too
Cos he's a bit that way.
It will end in a ****** fight
Mixing this loss is hit and miss
But they do it every saturday nite
It's just my family on the ****
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
i am so sorry
after writing madly
about you
an
pit-bull
tried
to
eat my
chihuahua
trying to save him
my skull was
cracked
on
the
concrete
we have to be honest with myself
i think you gave me rabies
who took the letters
from
my
alphabit
who bit Alf
star BG
?
...
..
.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC