New Year's Resolutions

Here's my list of resolutions:
To fight for peace, to stop pollution,
To lose two stone and give up on drinking,
When I see pretty girls- to hold back from winking,
To give up smoking- at last kick the habit,
To see opportunity and learn how to grab it.
Make sure I do a great deal more exercise
And still find the time to rest both my eyes
From the extra books that I will be reading
Whilst I'm out in the garden doing my weeding.
I'll paint my house from the top to the middle,
I'll learn the flute, the guitar and the fiddle.
I'll spread the word we should love one another
Remembering as well, to not wind-up my brother.
I'll split the dang atom, I'll walk on the moon,
I'll make a big effort to tidy my room.
I'll keep my lawn tidy with nothing but tweezers,
I'll fly up to Iceland and swim in hot geysers.
I'll eat soup with chopsticks, I'll write a bestseller-
A satirical thriller about David Mellor.
I'll be on TV before watershed
And not give two hoots ‘bout the swearwords I've said.
I'll feed all the needy, the sick will be healed.
I'll start making crop circles with rope in a field.
I'll learn four new languages including some French,
Play footy for England (well, I'll be on the bench).
I'll start making sculptures out of blue cheese,
I'll join demonstrations about top-up fees.
To eat lots more takeaways like Indian curry.
To once and for all learn how to say sorry.
To admit when I'm wrong- would it be such a crime?
Even though I'm obviously right all the time.
To break free of arrogance learn some humility
But to prove all those wrong who doubt my ability.
To strive to become the best person I can
And carry on learning just who I am.
All these decisions of which I have spoken
Will definitely happen, and never be broken

Oh hang on a second, what was I thinking?
Not a chance in the world that I'll give up on drinking.

A Pocket History

My jacket tells a story, a lifetime's lucky dip.
From deep within my pocket down memory lane I slip,
Pulling out the things I've done from many days since gone.
A bar receipt, a ticket stub, a raffle never won -
Little triggers that mean nothing to anyone but me.
A single wrapper from a sweet: a million memories.
Every piece of jetsam found a little mystery
And me the key for opening their secret histories.
The times we laughed, picnics in parks, encounters in the street,
My pocket world that does unfold with every creased receipt.

Two thumbs and a head of space

Two thumbs and a head of space
Is what defines the human race.
Just the distance between our ears
Our hopes, our dreams, our love and fears.
All of our invention and best laid plans
Put into action by our hands.
The things we think, then make and do
And nothing more is me and you.
So think with freedom, act with grace
And help to shape the human race.

Scottish Independence

Will it be yes or will it be no
I must confess I do not know
But if the Scottish answer yes
And the knot is loosed as polls suggest
I cannot help but feel full glum
By the Untied Kingdom we become.

Stop

There's a species that's dying that we never mention
And I think that it's time we gave it attention.
These past few years its numbers have dropped
And it seems its extinction cannot be stopped,
Literally speaking, for what I address
Is the dwindling number of STOP buttons to press.
That simple square, that precious stop
Is surplus to requirements and is for the chop.

I noticed it first with those MP3s,
Then video streaming saw the spread of the disease,
Somehow, somewhere behind-the-scenes,
Stop buttons are being removed from our screens
And our remotes, and for what cause?
What are we left with? I'll tell you what: Pause.
Well I say wrong! and I say no!
STOP should stay, STOP should not go.
It's true that might mean fewer buttons to press,
But to me that fewer feels a lot more like less.
To be left with no stop just a measly pause
Makes me feel empty for, whatever it's flaws,
A stop is full and a stop is complete.
It means: no more of this dad's army repeat!
I have other things I really must do.
I'm spent I'm done, I'm quite through with you.
A stop says I'm finished, I'm done for the day
I'm not coming back, nohow and no way.
What Pause has is claws, it wants you right back
It says: 'it's okay, go away. I'll cut you some slack.
Don't worry my friend no bridges are burned,
I'll be right here ready for when you return.'
Fantastic! Convenient! Quite right! you might say,
But Pause gets in your head and won't let you away.
Just as you break from Miss Taylor Swift
Your mind will turn over and 'fore long you drift
Back to the machine or the screen and press play.
Pause has you now, there's no getting away.
The future is gloomy my friends, the future is grim,
Stopping this rot looks increasingly slim.
So take just a moment, pause for thought
Please think of the joy your stop buttons brought.
And heed these final words that I say:
Stop pausing right now, start stopping today.

(By the way, as you might well expect,
I don't give a monkeys about the loss of Eject.)

I'm Auto Correct

I'm auto correct, I'm sort of correct.
I've a shirt on my back and a Thai round my neck.
I've a hound to return to, a woof over my head,
When I wake in the mortgage I rise from a bed.
But something is misting, it dozen make scents
When the worlds that I say are not wharf I meant.
I know what I'm satin in my mined I can see,
But there's an algorithm between you and me.
It thinks it nose beast what I want to say
But it purely obscures thins and gets in the wahey.
Unpredictably predictive it putts worms in my mouth,
When I want to say North it makes me say North.

So I'm turbine it off and making a stand.
Four ones I'll be cleared and you'll understand,
It won't stop me saying what's right and what's true:
That you're perfect to me and I dearly love YouTube.

[Please excuse hippos, written on a mobile device.]

Leave It For Next Year

I'm here to share a small epiph'ny:
I declare this day the start of LIFNY.
Leave It For Next Year - for what's the difny?
No one's about, it's nearly Chrifny
The work'll get done just as swiftny
Next year, so start right now, unwrap a giftny.
Drink some mulled wine, get slightly squifny.
Forget it all til two thousand fiftneey,
For next year will be here in a jiffny.
Take a break, have fun, enjoy your Chrifny
And from today just say you'll ‪#‎LIFNY‬.

Trick or treats? A poem about Halloween (and sweets)

Have you seen on Halloween the monsters roam the streets?
When they ring your bell do you know well if you’ll take a risk upon a trick or rather give them treats?


If you want a night of peace and quiet then heed the words I say:
Stock up on snacks to prevent attacks. For here’s the truth: feed their sweet tooth and you’ll keep the ghouls away.


Ogres glum like sticks of gum and vampires chew on chomps.
Grisly ghosts like nuts the most, while for gums of wine Frankenstein upon your street he stomps.


A lolly-ice makes Medusa nice when once she would have hated.
Bigfoot trudges for assorted fudges, so if presented you'll be prevented from being eviscerated.


Swampy beasts want chocolate feasts to eat back home in shallows.
While goblins mean like jelly beans and you'll get stitches from warty witches unless they get marshmallows.


Gobstoppers are Blob stoppers and cake will kill the craving
Of reapers grim from coming in with eyes of hate through your front gate along the crazy paving.


Poltergeists are fearful frights unless they get a humbug.
While impish fairies and werewolves hairy want lots and lots of jelly tots or they'll destroy your rug.


Fiery demons like sherbet lemons - you can't get them down in hell.
Give sneaky sprites Turkish delights to put a stopper from coming a cropper and prevent them casting spells.


Keep gremlins busy with pop all fizzy –or they will get all snappy.
I’m pretty sure you won’t like what’s in store when they break down your door and so therefore it’s wise to keep them happy!


Coffee creams work like a dream to stop trolls chewing faces.
Egyptian mummies like items yummy – and every curse can be reversed with just some strawberry laces.


Zombies smelly are fans of jelly – the texture’s just like brains.
Visitors from mars like toffee bars - there’s more to savour in their sweet flavour than in your warm remains.


So this time of year, for fear of fear and to still your beating heart:
Stock up on treats - evil loves sweets and you'll be fine ‘til Valentine’s when the proper scares will start!

Coming to Terms (Search Engine Poetry)

Why...
Why is the sky blue?
Why is my poop green?
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
Why do men cheat?
Why do dogs eat grass?
Why am I so tired?
Why do cats purr?
Why does my eye twitch?
Why did I get married?

Because of you
Because I said so
because of Winn Dixie
Because you loved me
Because I got high
Because you loved me lyrics
Because the night
Because
...Just because.


Note: The poem above was written entirely using the search term suggestions supplied by my iPhone. I have added the very first and last lines and decided on the length. Creepy how coherent it seems!

I have since tried the same thing on a desktop and get a load of different results. So this is a snapshot in time, personalised to me...why don't you try it too and we can see how it changes?

An organic, living poem that reflects the writer. (Or a load of monkeys in a room with Google rather than a typewriter...take your pick).

Walking to a wedding in Scotland

I wish that this kilt were better built,
Oh why did I not take a taxi?
As on under there I've no underwear 
And Scottish wind's ripping right up me jacksie.

Beneath all the tartan the dress code is spartan
But I should have just put on some smalls
As the hotel is miles and it's hell on my piles
Not to mention my frostbitten...sporran.

Baby's first Mother's Day poem

We're celebrating our first Mother's day in our household so my 5 month old helped me to write this poem for his mum:

Here's a short poem to thank you and say
How much I love you on your first mother's day.
I know that I've not been around very long
But so far I don't think you've put a foot wrong:
You look after me and you take care of Dad
And you're the best mother that I've ever had.

You're fun to play with, or just have a chat
Whether I'm bouncing around or on my changing mat.
And when I am sad or just had a fright
You make me feel safe and hold me real tight.
You keep me all cosy and put food in my tummy
And I think you're the world's finest mummy.

I just cannot wait for the fun times to come...
And I love you and thank you for being my mum!

OK Commuter - a short poem about getting to work

I try to refrain from going insane when I get on the train that takes me to work.

I start off quite calm with no malice or harm...'til someone pulls the alarm on the train that takes me to work.

From then it's a battle to maintain my mood at-all while we stand crushed like cattle not moo-ving on the train that takes me to work.

Then the phone babble of berks, the bad breath and the jerks all send me beserk before I get off the train that takes me to work.

Once at my destination I sit at my work-station with defenestration on my mind as I sit down to work.

But by the end of my shift my mood always lifts just in time for the equally swift train going back home from work.

And by the time I arrive I thank god I'm alive. Tomorrow I'll drive and never again get on the train that addles my brain and eventually takes me to work.

Love poetry of sorts

For some reason I found myself writing 3 love poems this month ...I suppose it is Valentines' month and Spring is coming etc.

Anyway, 2 of the love poems are below so feel free to stick them in your Valentine's cards in, oooh, 354 days or so. The third love poem is personal and you can't see it. So nerr.

Share the love people.

(If you do use them you'd better make sure you tell your loved ones that it was me who wrote them or I'll sue you for intellectual property infringement from here to Timbuktu (unless you live in Timbuktu already in which case I sue you from Timbuktu to Woolloomooloo instead.)


Love poem no 1.

We're bound together you and I

Like cobalt sea to azure sky

At sun's first rise with warming rays

Of growing heat - just like the day

Our blue eyes met and both saw red.

From phosphor flicker to flaming head

A boundless bond, a spark that grew

A striking match - that's me and you.


Love poem no 2.

My feet feel their finest when firm on the ground

And my arms are at home with you wrapped around.

My legs keep me balanced and help me to stand

But my hands hold their own when they're holding your hand.

My eyes are good looking at you when you're here

A vision of beauty so fair and so near.

Your hair it speaks volumes in waves just above you

But my lips say it best when they tell you I love you.