"plonked" poems
RESPECT
Mr C Penguin the head of the house
Wears a uniform and listens to Strauss.
Seals plonked by the door as a draught excluder.
Chimps are taking tea in the parlour Room.
Judging how many cakes they can consume.
“Get a brush Foxy and sweep up those crumbs,
I will be charging them double when the time comes”
Mr Badger making endless trays upon trays of cakes
For the ignorant posh chimps and the mess thy make.
“Bag the goose and send the felloe to me,
I will give the chimps something to do for free”
The penguin cracked his knuckles and gave a cough
He had told the chimps he had taken the day off.
“The goose is here” half smiling “the goose is here”
The chimps shook, gulped and felt a trifle queer.
The goose frog marched in and the chimp went limp
“Right you posh lot, eat nicely is that clear chimp”
“I’m not old fishy pengy” he snapped straightening his wing,
“no hanky panky on my watch, nothing, no anything.
“I run a tight ship chimp, my rules old chum.”
The chimps heard right and put an end to the fun.
“Respect, respect,” the goose patrolled his little space
The chimps now ashen with a worried look on their face.
It is all about respect
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
We left behind the growing oaks, the contorted willow
with its weeping friend, and the chestnut which
protects us from the western wind.
The christmas tree, garden plonked some thirty years ago,
soon to chop and chimney, and its holly neighbour,
freed at last from greedy strangling ivy.
The white-barked birch, the leaning cluster pine, the maturing
walnut and arching alders, the trio of young scots pines,
rescued from loop moth caterpillars just in time.
The regiment of leylandii along the northern border all in a line
the laurel hedge, the little holm oak, the redwood brought
home in luggage as a burl now spearing to the sky.
The shy biloba, new, unsure, not yet deciding if it dare.
The host of yellow plums, which bid to sucker
everywhere.
The rowan in a *** bark nibbled by a bunnie, still waiting
for a plot.
The scruffy greengage, planted for its scrumptious fare,
the bramley sapling and the conference pear plucked
from the bargain bin last year.
We left them all behind, just for a night, with
a special mission on our minds. We
traveled south then west to a band
of dedicated people in a special
place we had to find.
He was there.
He's with us now, and quite relaxed.
We're on our way to take him back,
to live with us as a life-long friend,
and make our lives
complete again.
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 2:04 PM UTC
This year Santa has a particular personal worry
And I don’t mean to complicate the riddle
But when I say he has eaten far too much this year
And the weight has piled on around his middle.
Yes he has got far too fat around his girth
He is worried the sleigh won’t take his weight
Unfortunately unless he goes on a crash diet
He will be regretting what he ate!
The time came and to cut a long story short
He boarded along with the toys and was on his way
Rudolph noticed he was under some strain
And wondered what he has stuffed on the sleigh.
“What’s he got back there” moaned Dancer
The rest of them pulled hard to drive
They came to an abrupt halt on a roof
Santa shot down a chimney with a nose dive.
He realised he was the wrong way round
But then it had all gone mysteriously black
He wished he could understand the dilemma he was in
The truth of the matter he’d got stuck in the sack.
He arrived at the bottom in a heap with and a crash
Toys, paper and mince pies were everywhere
To put it bluntly he was in a complete mess
And I dare not say what had happened to his hair.
Rudolph gingerly looked through the window
And thought the view was indeed very weird
Santa has apparently got stuck in his sack
And he had carrots poking out of his beard.
Meanwhile just to complicate matters
His team players, the reindeers were getting merry
Eating mince pies like there was no tomorrow
And knocking back the extra dry sherry.
Rudolph managed to get Santa back in a heap
And plonked him on the trusty old sleigh
Carried on and did Santa’s job himself
In a Rudolph the red nose reindeer sort of way.
Thanking goodness that was over he can get some rest
And was proud that he had delivered the toys
What the family will think when they see the mess
And he hoped they didn’t hear the fuss and noise.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
He holds the tiller
of the boat with
his left hand, white
pants and tee shirt,
boater just so, and
the young dame there
reclining to one side
dressed to the nines,
yakking away, hat
plonked on her head,
him thinking of the
one that got away,
his arms stretched
out wide kind of fish,
the other guys so
impressed when he
said, but the dame,
all she yaks of is how
long it for took her
to chose what to wear
and what went with
what, and does my
*** look ok in this?
or she talks of what
one of her next-door
neighbours said or
did or didn’t do or
she yaks of shoes
how she saw this
pair to die for O,
she says, you should
have seen them,
my eyes were oozing
eyes of joy just to see
them, but he, letting
her words drift by,
thinks of the boat he
almost bought, the
one he saw in port
the other day, god
how he loved it, the
size and colour, the
way it was set out in
the water, floating
there, bobbing slowly,
like some beautiful
dame ready for the
off. Sea breeze moves
the boat, wind shifts
the sails, she still sitting
yakking, her lips opening
and closing, fish out of
water kind of thing, he
wonders why he brought
her along, why he didn’t
set sail alone, the whole
horizon of sea and sail,
and not her constant
yak and miserable moan.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
Abducted Worker
He was riding his moped to the office to work
The alien craft hovered over him and took him
It left his moped by the roadside needing the rider
In a blast of silent light he was plonked down
No longer on his wheels somewhere else entirely
Like the X-Files but real different yet familiar
Like he'd been hear before that was inexplainable
He knew in ways he was home from home
Even if he cried sweated shook wondered what the ****
How can this be happening to me right now?
UFOs don't exist nor do little green men
Or grey ones like these here now
They greeted him he nodded and waved
It was like being back with friends!
Even if three feet tall and grey and ugly
They had a strange yet interesting craft
Bigger inside than out like Dr Who?
His moped was similar for it was a vehicle
Made to go from A to B and do a job
The question was what why where and who?
He didn't know the answers just now
He'd soon find out their aims and wants
Before they let him go again...
0 Comments
Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 7:31 PM UTC
Mr C Penguin the head of the house
Wears a uniform and listens to Strauss.
Seals plonked by the door as a draught excluder.
Chimps are taking tea in the parlour Room.
Judging how many cakes they can consume.
“Get a brush Foxy and sweep up those crumbs,
I will be charging them double when the time comes”
Mr Badger making endless trays upon trays of cakes
For the ignorant posh chimps and the mess they make.
“Bag the goose and send the felloe to me,
I will give the chimps something to do for free”
The penguin cracked his knuckles and gave a cough
He had told the chimps he had taken the day off.
“The goose is here” half smiling “the goose is here”
The chimps shook, gulped and felt a trifle queer.
The goose frog marched in and the chimp went limp
“Right you posh lot, eat nicely is that clear chimp”
“I’m not old fishy pengy” he snapped straightening his wing,
“no hanky panky on my watch, nothing, no anything.
“I run a tight ship chimp, my rules old chum.”
The chimps heard right and put an end to the fun.
“Respect, respect,” the goose patrolled his little space
The chimps now ashen with a worried look on their face.
It is all about respect
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
Created in the land of the valley of death two Mexican Devils came clawing, ripping their way up my legs slicing at my back and plonked themselves, one on each shoulder.
Undeterred I carried on unable to shake the pesky Devils off.
Tortured subliminal screams enrolled upon thy cranium as they declared their evil intent.
Go down that alley!
Snort the powder!
Nick that watch!
Steal that bag!
**** em!
**** em all!
I was a mere puppet allowing a dark shadow to descend like a loose veil over my mug.
The little ******** dribbled, bit, gnawed, scratched and tortured my very fabric to get their own way.
Eventually their habits became mine.
I became them.
Tres Diablos with no Angels to save us from our life of sin dragged into the valley of death once again.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC
This little Christmas Fairy
woke by the light of the silvery moon
when the crystalised cobwebs
started to defrost.
When the snail's trail thawed
on the snowy post.
When the spider's legs snapped free
of the lacy doiley hanging
She brushed her tiny teeth
with a thistle head
using minty sap from the spearmint
her face was washed with a damp petal
carefully cleaning her cheeks
and polishing her nose.
Her hair was raked with a holly leaf
and windswept when the wind blows.
Her dress was a clover head
plonked on her hair
and Santa approved.
He was in rather a jolly mood
he needed help of course
with boarding the sleigh
being a bit stuffed with mince pies
and the odd glass of stout.
well say odd meaning several.
He beckoned the Fairy to assist
he remembered his list
of toys for the girls
and the boys
and the parents
and himself.
A clank by his feet reminded him
to give the deers their boost
an old ginger biscuit did the trick
Dancer was in fact sick
of the very idea.
He rather fancied cheese
to fill his tum
Rudoph preferred sherry
the more he drank the more merry
he did not know why
he did try
once leaving it off
but he developed a cough
so went back on it
the sleigh reversed
slamming into the gear called first
it sped off into the milky way
for half the **** day
it got to its drop
with an abrupt stop
a scream and a shout
the toys popped out
and off they went again
speeding down a lane
no speed no gain
led by a reindeer that was scary
a Santa and a Christmas Fairy.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
This year Santa has a particular personal worry
And I don’t mean to complicate the riddle
But when I say he has eaten far too much this year
Well the weight has piled on around his middle.
Yes he has got far too fat around his girth
He is worried the sleigh won’t take his weight
Unfortunately unless he goes on a crash diet
He will be regretting what he ate!
The time came and to cut a long story short
He boarded along with the toys and was on his way
Rudolph noticed he was under some strain
And wondered what he has stuffed on the sleigh.
“What’s he got back there” moaned Dancer
The rest of them pulled hard to drive
They came to an abrupt halt on a roof
Santa shot down a chimney with a nose dive.
He realised he was the wrong way round
But then it had all gone mysteriously black
He wished he could understand the dilemma he was in
The truth of the matter he’d got stuck in the sack.
He arrived at the bottom in a heap with and a crash
Toys, paper and mince pies were everywhere
To put it bluntly he was in a complete mess
And I dare not say what had happened to his hair.
Rudolph gingerly looked through the window
And thght the view was indeed very weird
Santa has apparently got stuck in his sack
And he had carrots poking out of his beard.
Meanwhile just to complicate matters
His team players, the reindeers were getting merry
Eating mince pies like there was no tomorrow
And knocking back the extra dry sherry.
Rudolph managed to get Santa back in a heap
And plonked him on the trusty old sleigh
Carried on and did Santa’s job himself
In a Rudolph the red nose reindeer sort of way.
Thanking goodness that was over he can get some rest
And was proud that he had delivered the toys
What the family will think when they see the mess
And he hoped they didn’t hear the fuss and noise
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC
This year Santa has a particular personal worry
And I don’t mean to complicate the riddle
But when I say he has eaten far too much this year
And the weight has piled on around his middle.
Yes he has got far too fat around his girth
He is worried the sleigh won’t take his weight
Unfortunately unless he goes on a crash diet
He will be regretting what he ate!
The time came and to cut a long story short
He boarded along with the toys and was on his way
Rudolph noticed he was under some strain
And wondered what he has stuffed on the sleigh.
“What’s he got back there” moaned Dancer
The rest of them pulled hard to drive
They came to an abrupt halt on a roof
Santa shot down a chimney with a nose dive.
He realised he was the wrong way round
But then it had all gone mysteriously black
He wished he could understand the dilemma he was in
The truth of the matter he’d got stuck in the sack.
He arrived at the bottom in a heap with and a crash
Toys, paper and mince pies were everywhere
To put it bluntly he was in a complete mess
And I dare not say what had happened to his hair.
Rudolph gingerly looked through the window
And thought the view was indeed very weird
Santa has apparently got stuck in his sack
And he had carrots poking out of his beard.
Meanwhile just to complicate matters
His team players, the reindeers were getting merry
Eating mince pies like there was no tomorrow
And knocking back the extra dry sherry.
Rudolph managed to get Santa back in a heap
And plonked him on the trusty old sleigh
Carried on and did Santa’s job himself
In a Rudolph the red nose reindeer sort of way.
Thanking goodness that was over he can get some rest
And was proud that he had delivered the toys
What the family will think when they see the mess
And he hopd they didn’t hear the fuss and noise.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
You plonked your head
on the pillow
shut your jaded eyes
hoped to stop your brain
and escape the foul reality
but how can you evade
something that you are
so profoundly a part of?
You cannot escape
your existence.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 8:25 AM UTC
After the afternoon siesta
one legged Anne
with the aid
of Skinny Kid
got off the camp bed
under the out door shelter
and crutched her way
across the lawn
to their favourite
white round metal table
and plonked herself
in one of the chairs
the Kid did likewise
the other kids woke
and moved back
into action
and went either
on the swings or slide
or sat on tables
around the lawn area
look at them
like the waking
of the dead
Anne said
what was it
T S Eliot said?
I don't know
what did this guy say?
the Kid asked
never thought death
had undone so many
or something like that
it's from one
of his poems
o I see
said the Kid
Colm sat
at the table
with Lulu
what do you
two want?
Anne said
Sister Paul said
we can sit
where we like
so we're sitting here
Lulu said
how's your ****
off for spots then
or is it burns?
Anne said coldly
it's cruel to mock her
Colm said
who asked you
to open
your cake hole Colm
go back to sleep
Anne said
Sister Paul said
all children
at the nursing home
are equal
and can sit
where they so wish
Lulu said
and I'm not saying
about my burns
or showing you
as if I'd want
to see your burns
on your **** Lulu
although the Kid here might
do you want
to see her burns Kid?
Benny shook his head
no I've no desire
to do so
he said
I'm telling the nuns
you're being
unkind to us
Lulu said
me too
Colm said
unkind?
well all I did
was asked after
the burns on your ****
if that's unkind
I won't ask no more
Anne said
Lulu and Colm
up and left the table
and ran across the lawn
towards the home
well that's
them gone Kid
just us now
anyway I've seen
her backside
as she gets ready
for bed each night
Anne said
want to wander Kid
along to the beach
before the penguins
come out
to ******* us
for unkindness?
sure
the Kid said
shall I get
your wheelchair?
he asked
no I'll crutch my way there
just keep an eye
I don't fall down
Anne said
so they up
and moved along
the path between
the avenue of trees
and out the back gate
and along the path
to the beach
where she sniffed
the air
smell that Kid
that's the best smell
you can get
sea smell
salt fresh
fecking salt
into your lungs
and bloodstream
they go along the beach
and over sand
and pebbles
and he helped her down
onto the pebbles
and put her crutches
beside her
and sat down himself
o this is the life Kid
away from the sick
and wanton
and the fecking
penguin nuns
the ****** queens
the Kid said nothing
but stared
at the sea and ships
and gulls
and the wind
in his hair
and sat
and let his eyes
wide stare.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 2:40 AM UTC
I need a cat, a shape shifter
Sleek in the night, stalking my toes
I need to feel in danger of the pounce
Anticipate the fluffy acupuncture assault
Then the soft recompense, the rhythmic purr
Sound of engine running in a furry chassis
Curl of warm belly around my hand,
Snugly trusting.
I want a cat, a ballet dancer
Graceful gymnast, lissome acrobat
How the hell did she get way up there?
And she’s so pleased with herself.
Twinkling cabochon peridot eyes
Ancestral spirit homes, divining the future
Seeing worlds to which my dull human sight
Remains insensible.
I long for the feline trip-me-up
The periscope tail strutting around
The up yours attitude, possessive head ****
Tail in my face, weaving round ankles
**** plonked on the page I’m reading
Voice of a cranky, unmelodic angel
The regal pride at the table trespass
Gifted bug at my feet.
I need a cat with a jealous streak
Wise to my other feline indiscretions
The accusatory looks, and petulant shunning
I need to plead for mercy, to reassure
To bestow the favourite treat as consolation
I want the day long cuddle that follows
Punctuated by tiny acts of punishment
Put in my place.
I miss the chaos and the havoc
The ritual corruption of the Christmas tree
Random bursts of ecstatic craziness
Thunderous houseruns in the wee hours
I need the smooching when I’m melancholy
The comfort of determined, kneading paws
The little upturned face searching mine, in
Uncanny empathy.
I need the kitty litter, and the up chuck
The inelegant realities, however gross
Little things that bond two simpatico souls
Aren’t always so glamourous
I need the mythic vision and the everyday plain
Extraordinary archetype and simply dear kitty
Faerytale heroics, **** In Boots, “Memory”,
Alleycat blues.
I’m a cat lady in the making
A cat lady-in-waiting
I need a cat
I need a cat
I need a cat.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
Janice said
she wanted to show me
how well she skipped
with her new skip rope
I watched
as her small hands
held the wooden ends
and her arms
circled like windmills
and her feet
lifted from the ground
in an odd dance
the rope going over
and under
over and under
have a go
she said
no it's OK
I said
let me show you
how good I can draw
my new gun
from my holster
I said
tapping
the toy gun
at my side
a brown hat
(an uncle's trilby)
plonked
on my head
she watched me
her red beret
on her head
the lemon dress
I liked her in
the black plimsolls
touching toes
I took out the gun
and spun it
around my finger
like I’d seen
in the Jeff Chandler films
my old man
took me to see
my other hand
spaced at my side
I put the gun back
in the holster
and on the count of
1-2-3
I drew the gun
in the blink
of her lovely blue eyes
as 1-2-3
bad cowboys
(invisible to her)
fell and died
can I have a go?
she asked
sure you can
I said
so undid the belt
and holster and gun
and handed them
to her
to put on
which she did
in clumsy fashion
all fingers and thumbs
once she was ready
(at her own
female pace)
she said
count me in
so I said ok
and counted 1-2-3
and she went
for the gun
and sent it
spinning
through the air
catching sun light
on the silvery parts
as it fell
to the ground
with a clattering
spark flying
cap banging
sound.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
This little man
Will do all he can
To eat all his beans
And avoid his greens.
For him it is considered beneath
To keep clean his teeth.
There is little hope
Of owning a bar of soap.
To let an evening pass
He would roll in wet grass.
Then to get himself in gear
Knock back four pints of beer.
He has been told “elf”
Take a look at yourself
You have got yourself to blame
You have brought much shame.
You must go through a door
And find it in yourself to explore.
So it was that he became irritable
With the thought of eating a vegetable
He knew he was quite snappy
But what would make him happy?
Slow breathing in and out
Just made him want to shout
Who would want to embrace?
His ugly little face?
So he had a choice
Led by a comforting voice
Choose which door
He needs to explore.
Go through the door of red
Where one stayed in bed and just ate bread
Or the door painted green
He would get himself clean
Or go through the door marked blue
Find out what he is addicted to.
That thought was just plain crazy
He knew he was lazy.
He was the little man with a very short shelf
Plonked on a label branded a very lazy elf.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
The bells rang out from the oncoming van
The Ice Cream Van it was, for all to hear.
Packed full of runny sauces enticed the man
To have the biggest ice cream and that was clear.
He delved into his pocket, oh you could feel the anticipation
The children were getting restless behind him and began to toss
abuse at the man looking for loose change, the realisation
that it was a pointless exercise and it was his loss.
"Come on, get a move on" shouted the kids from behind
The man shuffled sadly away with tears in his eyes.
He plonked miserably on the park bench only to find
A little boy with feet dangling holding a nice surprise.
He had bought a big fat juicy ice cream and held it high
"Do you want this, I saw what happened, you can have mine"
Well the man looked at the boy and started to cry
To take this off the boy would surely be a crime.
But what the heck, he'd only get another, so he grabbed it
His tongue straight away licked like it had not licked before
"Oh good grief" thought the boy "he's enjoying every bit"
"he's behaving like a kid and his tongue will be sore"
But the man went at his prize hammer and tongue
Like he'd never seen an ice cream before and was in a flap
The boy became suspicious and thought it was wrong
But the man had a frown because the ice cream was in his lap!
There is a moral to this story if you can find it!
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
Sometimes, the jade air
Sometimes, the forest’s verdant breath
Sometimes, the moss pond
and the frog’s plonked exclamation.
Sometimes, the confused helix
of crossed branches, the sun’s
enduring eye, blinded here and there
by the cliff’s stern countenance.
Each of these can manifest
as the soul’s reflection,
For how else could it know
its own existence?
Only chance can help
the soul to find its way
through heaven’s web of lumens
and planets’ eternal orbits,
an endless procession
of hollow moments to be filled
by a sudden eclipse of expectation,
a quick downpour of regret,
a shadow of fear, a memory exhumed.
Yet the final rush
of enlightened immersion
is only a license to begin again.
Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 4:50 AM UTC
This little man
Will do all he can
To eat all his beans
And avoid his greens.
For him it is considered beneath
To keep clean his teeth.
There is little hope
Of owning a bar of soap.
To let an evening pass
He would roll in wet grass.
Then to get himself in gear
Knock back four pints of beer.
He has been told “elf”
Take a look at yourself
You have got yourself to blame
You have brought much shame.
You must go through a door
And find it in yourself to explore.
So it was that he became irritable
With the thought of eating a vegetable
He knew he was quite snappy
But what would make him happy?
Slow breathing in and out
Just made him want to shout
Who would want to embrace?
His ugly little face?
So he had a choice
Led by a comforting voice
Choose which door
He needs to explore.
Go through the door of red
Where one stayed in bed and just ate bread
Or the door painted green
He would get himself clean
Or go through the door marked blue
Find out what he is addicted to.
That thought was just plain crazy
He knew he was lazy.
He was the little man with a very short shelf
Plonked on a label branded a very lazy elf.
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
This little man
Will do all he can
To eat all his beans
And avoid his greens.
For him it is considered beneath
To keep clean his teeth.
There is little hope
Of owning a bar of soap.
To let an evening pass
He would roll in wet grass.
Then to get himself in gear
Knock back four pints of beer.
He has been told “elf”
Take a look at yourself
You have got yourself to blame
You have brought much shame.
You must go through a door
And find it in yourself to explore.
So it was that he became irritable
With the thought of eating a vegetable
He knew he was quite snappy
But what would make him happy?
Slow breathing in and out
Just made him want to shout
Who would want to embrace?
His ugly little face?
So he had a choice
Led by a comforting voice
Choose which door
He needs to explore.
Go through the door of red
Where one stayed in bed and just ate bread
Or the door painted green
He would get himself clean
Or go through the door marked blue
Find out what he is addicted to.
That thought was just plain crazy
He knew he was lazy.
He was the little man with a very short shelf
Plonked on a label branded a very lazy elf.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 2:12 AM UTC