and will use bandwidth for anything - even foisting poetry on the unsuspecting browser. Poems by all sorts of people, all unpublished; all, so far, uncredited.
Priorities
On greeting the happy couple
On the steps of the hospital
Festooned with flowers and showers
Of congratulations
Their very best friend of long years standing
Handing out breathless apologies for missing the event
Gasps 'Did you get what you wanted? Is it a boy?'
She replies, 'It's a girl, but actually, we wanted a toaster.'
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Lexicon of Love
(A poem slightly less dreadful than its title)
I am your lover
From cover to cover, the
Amorous Bookworm
Champing Diligently
Ever Forward
Going Heavenward
In Joyful Knowledge
Loving Mightily Now
Over Pages
Quietly Rummaging
Silently Tunnelling
Under Velvety Waves
X-ploring Your ZenithThis verse was harder to assemble
Than loving you will ever be.
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All Right
Are you alright?
My dad used to ask
No dad, I said
I think at least half of me
Is left.
It's the sort of thing you say
When you want to be a comedian
And make people laugh
Unfortunately
It shows that you
Are not
And probably never will
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Through The Square Window
Through the square window
Is a child eating ice cream
Through the round window
Is a pony and trap
Through the arched window
Is Little Ted
If you're a child reading this
It will make no sense at all
But don't worry
It won't be long before you are old enough
To have children of your own
Who look at you
Sometimes
As if you come from
Another planet
(You do)
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Open The Box
You come to me
Arms spread condor wide
To embrace and capture your willing prize
But part of me flies up
Like doves, white wings moonlit
Against a sky who's blackness
Defies all metaphor and simile
Take care, should you open the box
The medium is the message
The box is empty
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Darkness
Lying by you
My eyes growing accustomed to the recent darkness
I look into the room and can
Make out shapes
Just
No longer ghosts and monsters
But harmless silhouettes of clothing
Thrown casually onto chairs
And the warm wooden curve of furniture
But you, closest of all
Are bathed in impenetrable black
And yet, in my head
In the darkest place of all
Your form is incandescent
And I have no eyelids there
To shut you out.
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Marshal's Christmas Poem
.'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring... nothing... no action... naff all...
The stockings weren't hung as is usually the norm
But worn by the children to keep their feet warm.
The house was no longer all centrally heated
And up to the attic we all had retreated.
Wrapped in my overcoat, a shivering mass,
I stared at the rafters and cursed British gas.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed, my teeth all a-chatter.
I screwed up my eyes and held back the sniffs,
I thought for a moment it was the bailiffs.
I guessed by the reindeer it must be St Nick
But seeing the driver I changed my mind quick.
For he was be-suited in pinstripe I swear
And he whistled, and shouted, and called to them there!
"Now Morgan! now, Stanley! and HSBC!
On, Klienwart! On, Benson! on, Lloydes TSB!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now cash away! Cash away! Cash away all!"
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
And looking around just as quick as I might
Down the chimney came something that wasn't quite right.
The suit said Armani, the tan St Tropez
And clearly he had a time-share in LA.
'Twas then that I knew that he must be a banker,
"I recognise you, you mercenary chap."
His eyes how they twinkled, he said, "You're quite right,
And I have a mission this Christmassy night.
We know life is difficult now you're quite poor,
But we've run out of money - I've come back for more."
"So give us your credit card, give us your house
We need to take everything, even a mouse."
"But my equity's negative, credit card maxed,
You already own it all, these are the facts."
"Don't look so worried, it isn't that black,
We'll lend you the money to buy it all back.
Then when you've got it, we'll take it away,
This is how banking works every day."
I knew that he had me, I knew that he'd won,
He'd mortgaged my daughter, my mother, my son.
You can try to escape, but without being rude,
With bankers in charge we're pretty much screwed.
Marshal did this - it won him a pint :O)