"forecourt" poems
Were we not once love stood in abbey shadow and sun,
were we not once lovers at the top of bowling alleys
holding, having fun?
As you showered, I
bathed in the oeuvre of your
aura opposite,
thought of
midnight scrambled eggs
then bed
and the coffee to keep it company.
It’s then we woke
to the Sunday cacophony of avocados on post,
head to the second supplement in
to learn of the best twelve coasts where good lovers go to live,
where good lovers go to hide and give,
where good love exists.
If only the car wasn’t broken:
second hand, forecourt pile of ****
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
Each evening she got
off the bus and crossed
the forecourt of the gas
station where you worked
wearing her knee length
raincoat and made her way
into the small shop inside
and you stood there open
mouthed gazing at her hot
beauty at her black hair and
dark eyes and she said I want
20 of those cigarettes and
she pointed with her thin
finger and red nail to cigarettes
behind you and you turned
around and took down the
cigarettes pack and put them
on the counter and she took
coins out of her black purse
and placed them one by one
on the counter top and said
There that’s just right and then
off she went no more words
just a wiggle of her *** and you
watched her go out of the door
and along by the forecourt of
the gas station and you sighed
and sniffed the air to capture her
perfume and held on to the sight
of her and placed it in your memory
like some rich guy putting some
precious gem in his vault and you
would sense that memory of her
wiggling *** like some fresh fish caught.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 4:10 AM UTC
You had tracks on your arms
that led to stations
that didn't exist.
Just a list of lines
falling off and around
your wrists.
Open all hour wounds
on forearm forecourt,
that your parents won’t find out about.
Happy faces never hide
humble beginnings
in a house like that.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC
You made your way down
to the gas station
for your third day of work
in the heaviest fall of snow
since the year you were born
15 years before
and Mr. Fredericks was there
limping about the forecourt
around the pumps
with a big broom
brushing away snow
hey
he said
right you can try sweep
off the snow about the pumps
make it easy
for the customers
to get in and out
their cars and trucks
and handed you the broom
I’ll be upstairs
if you need me
just press the bell
under the desk
in the kiosk
at the front
and off he went
limping inside
snow still fell
there was a cold chill
about your limbs
your fingers ached
you pushed broom
shoved snow off
about the pumps
until all
were temporarily clear
then went inside
just as Miss Billings
rode along side
of the gas station
on her motorbike
then walked up
to the kiosk
where you’d taken refuge
you the new kid?
she asked
you nodded
I’m Miss Billings
she said
I work here too
in the back office
doing accounts
help out in the forecourt
if needed or the shop
in back if you’re overrun
she stood there
in her glasses
blonde hair covered
by a scarf
a black leather jacket
zipped to the neck
and helmet in one hand
white overalls coming down
to her knees
followed down
to her ankles
were red wool stockings
and white boots
on her feet
she stared at you
her eyes scrutinizing
the customer
is always right
did Mr Fredericks
tell you that?
yes
you said
well he’s right
so don’t matter
if the customer’s thick as ****
or **** stupid
they’re always right ok
so be tight Kid
tight as *****
in the *******
in a freezing shower
get it right
you nodded
and she walked in
and disappeared
into the back office
with a slow sway
of her of hips
her words
like chisel blows
to your ears
she about 21
to your 15
innocent
boyish years
she seeping
into your imagination
not knowing then
that her beauty
was probably
some marine’s image
for secret ************
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
Into the cinema complex they crowded
excited at seeing the horror movie.
One couple had a foreboding sensation
entering through the glass doors!
Eager to enjoy the brand new complex
their situation was vex!
They had not been in here ever before
never encountering this oppression.
Quickly that packed area soon thinned out
as the ticket staff let them in.
Each screen room was rapidly filled
a new concept in horror was billed!
Noises like chains rattling behind
certain they had seen monsters!
Trying to laugh it off as only imagination
making their way to a screening.
But to afraid to enter even open the door
something creaked on the floor!
Retreating back to where they had come
not a soul was in the entrance!
Rapid movements seem to be in the shadows
as a creatures lunged at them!
Terrible screams which way to run
not their idea of fun.
A sudden crescendo of noise and blind panic.
as ****** people came into sight!
Flesh torn bodies they were being pursued
by werewolves with a hunger!
Three D images coming from every angle.
hundreds in a nightmare tangle!
The friends nearly trampled into the carpet
as zombies ravaged nearby.
Fearing for their lives trapped in the mayhem
heading for the exit.
From video game machines soldiers appeared
the whole situation was wierd!
They went after all the surrounding creatures
smashed the glass and let them out1
As all the chaos spilled onto the forecourt
there was a blue haze and silence.
The friends were standing in the cinema carpark
one had a premonition so stark!
Looking at the poster of the horror movie
they thought it best not to go in!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 10, 2011 at 3:00 AM UTC
Miss Billings leaned
against the doorframe
looking at Mr Fredericks
pushing a broom
on the forecourt
of the petrol station
look at the old ****
pushing broom
she said
it’s his way of getting you
to do the job kid
you looked out
the glass front
as Mr Fredericks limped
pushing broom
I didn’t see him
go out there
you said
he probably sneaked out
she said
does it all the time
it makes him feel good
to see you go
creeping out there
she pushed her glasses
up the bridge of her nose
and put her hands
on her hips and did
that Monroe thing
she did quite often
you went out
to the forecourt
and said to Mr Fredericks
I can do that
I can push the broom
he handed you the broom
and limped inside
without a word
you swept along
the edge of the forecourt
Miss Billings moved
outside a bit
and said
told you kid
that’s the way he is
bet he don’t do that
when he beds his wife
or maybe he does
who knows
and she walked off
her backside like
a poor man’s Monroe
swaying side to side
and you watched her go
standing holding
the broom
the red cardigan
the white overalls
the black stockings
and then she had gone
into the back office
through the swing door
time to get on
with sweeping
you thought
but her swaying backside
lingered in your mind
her poor man’s Monroe
right down
to her blonde hair
and the way she stood
you’d be her
Clark Gable
(in miniature)
if you could.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
Ignite the forecourt - shroud it in smoke,
blazen the grasses and let fires stoke,
ashen our ocean - try strangle my throat.
Yet I'm un-charred,
fire be my cloak.
Cinderous lashes boil form from the sky,
sooten the beast mocking grievous its smile,
charred lie the echo of places worthwhile.
Still I'm unscathed,
none yet defiled.
Scorch of the essence and drain the air lame,
infernal ravages torch all they've lain,
engulf their waters - stricken the rain.
None-yet I burn,
donning each flame.
Sweltering heart guiding palm of the sun,
nova my spirit let darkest nights shun,
beacon my body through despair I come.
Let me rage blinding,
everbright one,
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 10:39 AM UTC
The Rhino's last stand?
my eye's still baulk .
For 15 litres used, Fina offered collectable cards
and this free coaster.
I can only think of forecourt charges now
and blinding energy shortages,
needling the near skint.
Surely we had failed the insurmountable test.
Eco Care conditional on my father not being disparagingly cross promitionally conscious?
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
Miss Billings dismounted her motorbike
over by the garage wall
and in Marilyn Monroe like fashion
she walked up towards
the forecourt where you
were sweeping
between the pumps
with the big broom
Mr Fredericks had given you
a few minutes ago
to clear the last
of the snow
got you busy already kid?
she said
undoing the headscarf
and giving you the eye
yes he said to get off
the rest of the snow
she glanced around
the forecourt
well don't let me keep you kid
don't let it be said
I kept a keen man down
and she walked off
into the garage rooms
to the back office
swaying her backside
as she went
you watched
until she had disappeared
then swept more snow
from the pumps
until half hour later
(only three cars had entered
the forecourt for petrol)
you walked to the small office
at the front where the till
was kept and a small heater
was lit to keep you warm
when Miss Billings came along
and said
you want some coffee
or cocoa? or anything else
to get you warm?
coffee would be nice
you said
OK kid
she said
keep yourself warm in there
don't want you to freeze
your jewels off
and she swayed away
humming some song
as she went
you rubbed
your chilled hands
together to warm them
remembering that Christmas
when you and Judith
had walked
through the snow
carol singing
her cheeks red
with her cold
her hand touching yours
her breath exiting
her mouth
like cigarette smoke
and she pretended
she had a cigarette
between fingers
her eyes bright as stars
her hand squeezing
her fingers freezing
what you dreaming about kid?
Miss Billings said
putting a mug of coffee
by the till
O just thinking
of happy times
in my past
well hold on to it kid
she said
because it won't last
and she wiggled off
like some imitation Monroe
without the glitter or good looks
back to the back office
to play with herself
or make up the books.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
Under stone lamp posts he took me by the hand
Walk little boy I'll make you understand
God has chosen you to be the man
God has chosen you to wear his crown
Broken through barriers, the road is quiet
The path that we travel is clear and bright
God has chosen me to be the man
God has chosen me wear the crown
Lectures in the forecourt they gathered round
Come little girl and hold my hand
God has chosen you, it's his command
God has brought you here to understand
The fields turn red in distracting light
The soldiers have arrived to heed the fight
God has chosen them to make a stand
God has chosen me to protect his lambs
Burning battle fields turn to rivers of blood
God speaks to me through the wood
God has chosen me I still believe
God told me that I must leave
God will carry me into the light
God will hold me through the night
Sombre is the morning, dew underfoot
Crying are the mothers, for their fallen sons
God feels distant when I ask for help
God only cares about himself
Ceremony dances in the pale twilight
Cups full of juice for the lambs tonight
God carries me home, I still believe
God had chosen me to take lead
Distant are the screams as I fall to sleep
Distant are the voices that chose me
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
there's speculation mounting
about the whereabouts of the queen
as it's been over a fortnight
since she was last publicly seen
the authoritative video channel
YouTube did say
that the regent had gone on
her heavenly paved way
Brits aren't too sure
as to her current health's category
but the BBC news reports
did broadcast a heavy cold story
if she presents at the changing of the guard
in the forecourt of Buck House
the world will know that
her well being is verily grouse
members of the royal family
are keeping mum at this juncture of time
in case Charles is called up
to be the realm's king of pantomime
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC
We drove
to the funeral directors,
Nat, Gabs and I,
to pick up
Ole's ashes.
We walked from the car
to the building
across a forecourt
in silence,
it seeming surreal,
yet all too real
as we approached together.
A woman met us
at the door,
a well fed,
plump one.
Can I help you?
We've come
for the ashes
of my son,
I said.
His name?
I told her.
She showed us
into a room
and we sat in silence.
The small room was built
for solemnity: sad music
was piped from speakers
on the walls and the décor
was dull, yet fit
for the sad occasion.
We waited,
looking at each other,
looking away.
Part of me expected,
unreal, yet
somehow real,
for Ole to walk in
in his black coat
and hungry bear gait
and say:
Fooled you all
that time.
But he didn’t
of course,
just the music
and an air
of heaviness
and deep sadness.
The woman returned
with a small oak casket
with Ole's name on
the brass plaque on top.
She handed it to Nat
and gave me a form
that had to be filled in
before Ole's remains
could be interred or
the ashes scattered;
another piece
of officialdom in death,
as if nothing else mattered.
We said our thank yous
and gazed at the woman.
She had a look
of sadness,
a solemnity,
but she had no tear
I could see, but why
should she, I thought,
she didn’t know young Ole.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
Dark evening,
trees swayed
by hard wind,
taxi lights
lit up
the abbey church,
domum Dei,
I stood
on the forecourt
peering at
the shadowy church,
I monaci sono
in chiesa
an Italian said,
I followed him
into the church
and we sat in
the side pews
in semi-darkness,
è Compieta
he said,
I nodded
and stared ahead
at the one red light
at the altar end,
a monk
dressed in black
walked
from cloister
to the bell tower
genuflecting
towards the altar
end first,
Dom Peter
the man said
pointing
at the monk,
other monks
came in
and genuflecting
took their places
in the choir stalls
either side
of the church
and stood facing
the altar end,
then once all
the monks
had settled
the lights
went out
and a voice
chanted out
converte me Deus,
other monks
chanted on
in the dark,
the world outside
living it up
and down,
here
just darkness
and chants
and an embracing silence
accompanying
the chanting.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
something she had seen
mid the concrete, puddles, suds
made her think ‘is my car clean
look as shiny as it should?’
seeing sponges slapping screens
spying soapy splashes slosh
and those lads in skin tight jeans
working at the street carwash
so she pulled up in her Merc
where she stole more sneaky looks
as they set about their work
while she sipped on her Starbucks
and that soggy bunch of guys
put on something of a show
as the heater warmed her thighs
but quite needlessly so
made her bite the paper cup
sent her tongue across her lips
as a t-shirt pulled right up
and she fumbled for a tip
and some time in due course
her car looked forecourt new
but she panted like a horse
and her knickers stuck like glue
but she drove back to the street
to resume her working day
and she earned tomorrow’s treat
hitting puddles all the way
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 8:14 AM UTC
He spent his life propping up the bar.
Stepped outside and got in the car.
He tore away from the forecourt.
The drunken driver, ripped the street to bits.
Flashing and dashing and buzzing like hell.
Thought he was driving really well.
His memory is cursed to burn.
He hit a tree on the side street.
Hell is waiting for him.
It's arms are open wide.
In the room in ITU.
The beeping machine hit a monotone streak.
Beyond reprieve.
Had no family to cry for him.
No friends to sigh under their breath, nobody's sorry.
His only friend fell out of a bottle or pump.
His eyes both black as midnight.
The front of his head christened.
Only with one god almighty bump.
(C) Livvi
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC