Monday 31 August 2009
Sunday 30 August 2009
Saturday 29 August 2009
Lavender
she flatters
with ballerinas on sticks
like an adept puppeteer
with an open stage
and a hundred marionettes
each one lifting her skirts
to tempt honeybees
to her nectar
Her left side is stunted
where the frost took her in May
with her skirts around her ankles
and she tries to ignore
the droop of her dress
"look here," she says, "look here!
I have the memory of your mother's wardrobe,
your grandmother's linen,
your childhood dreams"
with ballerinas on sticks
like an adept puppeteer
with an open stage
and a hundred marionettes
each one lifting her skirts
to tempt honeybees
to her nectar
Her left side is stunted
where the frost took her in May
with her skirts around her ankles
and she tries to ignore
the droop of her dress
"look here," she says, "look here!
I have the memory of your mother's wardrobe,
your grandmother's linen,
your childhood dreams"
review in senryĆ¼
Idyllic childhood
with hinted-at distresses
Asperger's pointers
DJKirkby's blog
From Zaftig to Aspie blog
with hinted-at distresses
Asperger's pointers
DJKirkby's blog
From Zaftig to Aspie blog
Labels:
book review,
books,
books in senryu,
DJ Kirkby
Friday 28 August 2009
Thursday 27 August 2009
Wednesday 26 August 2009
Tuesday 25 August 2009
Monday 24 August 2009
Misconstrued
I called today
but you were
otherwise engaged –
the red Cavalier in the drive
the bedroom curtains closed
the washing line empty
so I let myself in
(through the back door
into the kitchen)
and I heard
your moaning and thrashing
and your "please... please..."
so I made a cup of tea
and ate the biscuits from your cupboard
and left the cup in the sink
and it was only later
that I found out what
'home invasion' meant.
Image: "Looking into Darkness" Watercolour £20
Sunday 23 August 2009
Intruder
she creeps into the garden
with a 'don't mind me'
and a flick of orange tail
among the lavender bushes –
makes herself at home
among the red-plumed helmets
of crocosmia,
out of sight of the windows
and the dog barks
and the clatter of the neighbour's dustbins.
our cat can see her
from the bedroom window
just the tip of his tail
flicking
with a 'don't mind me'
and a flick of orange tail
among the lavender bushes –
makes herself at home
among the red-plumed helmets
of crocosmia,
out of sight of the windows
and the dog barks
and the clatter of the neighbour's dustbins.
our cat can see her
from the bedroom window
just the tip of his tail
flicking
Saturday 22 August 2009
Where the Lamplight Wasn't
they took the light away
these vandals
thugs
hoodlums –
they took away the solar lights
I placed in the front garden
that looked so pretty
in the dark
for an hour I plotted
what I'd do
if I caught them –
these thieves,
these wastrels
these ne'er-do-wells –
I'd hunt them with a sword
with a baseball bat
with a pair of secateurs
to chop off their little fingers
and after a while
I shrugged
and laughed
and let it be
these kids
these drunkards
these Chesterfield Laddoes
would never know art
or poetry
or appreciate
the touch of rain of skin
and I remain
the richer
Friday 21 August 2009
Thursday 20 August 2009
thistledown
Wednesday 19 August 2009
Teasel
The teasel is taller
than the tree that sheltered it.
In the warmth of the sun
the shallow pools of rainwater
it carries at its leaf nodes
have all dried up.
Purple spirals of flowers have faded
to leave nests of tiny black seeds
like wasps in springtime
but
it resists pulling,
shallow roots clinging on
until it succumbs
to the sharp
snick snack
of secateurs
and is dragged
shouting from hollow stems
and spitting black pips
to the compost heap.
There, old comb-thistle!
the bees and I love your flowers
and your shadowshine
but you shall not despoil my flower beds
so readily.
than the tree that sheltered it.
In the warmth of the sun
the shallow pools of rainwater
it carries at its leaf nodes
have all dried up.
Purple spirals of flowers have faded
to leave nests of tiny black seeds
like wasps in springtime
but
it resists pulling,
shallow roots clinging on
until it succumbs
to the sharp
snick snack
of secateurs
and is dragged
shouting from hollow stems
and spitting black pips
to the compost heap.
There, old comb-thistle!
the bees and I love your flowers
and your shadowshine
but you shall not despoil my flower beds
so readily.
Tuesday 18 August 2009
Monday 17 August 2009
Sunday 16 August 2009
White Paper
Saturday 15 August 2009
Ron and Pat's Handfasting
Hand Fast, sweet Love
they arrive in twos and threes
bringing food for the table
and a sense of wonderment
for a wedding in a garden
a circle of witches
an altar and an open fire
(constrained, for the sake of the neighbours, in a pit)
and the scent of lavender and mint
Corners called and vows exchanged
over rope and broom
as the mid-day sun is occluded by clouds
and we wonder
about the chance of rain
Friday 14 August 2009
It's Twenty Years Since I Dallied with Angus
my Aunty Morgan visits
on her way from her to there
salacious elocution
and a Paddington-type stare
she eats a home-made pastry
with her fingers held just so
I offer rancid butter
but her lips are pursed with 'no'
a single spoon of sugar
serves to sweeten her Darjeeling
but I only wish I had the chance
to sweeten her ill-feeling
she's almost ninety now, she says,
and not long for this earth
if I had Charon's number
I'd be booking her a berth
"Remember Angus Tavish?"
she said. "He wants a bride.
He would have married you and left
a fortune when he died."
at five o'clock she's homeward
and I stoop to kiss her ring
she never will forgive me
for that single Highland fling
on her way from her to there
salacious elocution
and a Paddington-type stare
she eats a home-made pastry
with her fingers held just so
I offer rancid butter
but her lips are pursed with 'no'
a single spoon of sugar
serves to sweeten her Darjeeling
but I only wish I had the chance
to sweeten her ill-feeling
she's almost ninety now, she says,
and not long for this earth
if I had Charon's number
I'd be booking her a berth
"Remember Angus Tavish?"
she said. "He wants a bride.
He would have married you and left
a fortune when he died."
at five o'clock she's homeward
and I stoop to kiss her ring
she never will forgive me
for that single Highland fling
Thursday 13 August 2009
Vicious Verses and Reanimated Rhymes
Vicious Verses and Reanimated Rhymes: Zany Zombie Poetry for the Undead Head (Paperback)
A.P. Fuchs (Editor)My poem "Certain Standards" is in this, as is the work of several friends of mine on a couple of forums (The Write Idea, Cafe Doom). Mostly amusing poetry about the undead.
Here's the official blurb:
The dead rise. The world dies. Mankind falls and enters Death’s halls. Over 90 poems of carnage, hopelessness and despair mixed with oodles of the living dead await you. Featuring poems by W. Bill Czolgosz, Paul A. Freeman, Keith Gouveia, J.H. Hobson, Rich Ristow, Lester
Smith, Steve Vernon, Zed Zefram, Zombie Zak and many others, Vicious Verses and Reanimated Rhymes will not only melt your brain . . . it’ll tear out your jugular!
Available from Amazon HERE
and the e-book edition is available on Amazon Kindle and at Drivethruhorror.com.
Wednesday 12 August 2009
Tuesday 11 August 2009
Monday 10 August 2009
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