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Shelf Life

Two loose leafs of collected Plath
and ‘un-sent letters home’
are propped up by two tombs
of dust jacketed Hughes
accompanied by ‘aussie’ verse by Frieda.

Only the ‘old-master’ Heaney has spaces reserved,
Pollard, Holland and Padel exchange expletives,
just the brave Sophie and Hannah find time to write rhyme.

Three by Thomas of the valley lie flat on their backs,

undervalued and incomplete, buried before his time.

 

Duffy and companion front-up together.

Prof Motion and Sir Milligan, misplaced, rub alphabetic shoulders.

Zephaniah and McGough, are falling apart, having split their sides.

 

Fabre & Fabre elite classics are Bloodaxed, by the upstarts,

both fight off laughable laminates and glossy ‘self-pampered booklets’

by the overlooked, hard done by ‘vanity un-fair’.

 

Brave and upright, a spine of steel, yester-years young Owen

proudly stands ‘head and shoulders’ above the warring rest.

 

Pammie Ayres and Wendy try to Cope and take each other seriously,

Glossy and embossed, Paul McCartney is slotted in,

‘new kid on the block’, poetry or rock, lively or lyrical?.

 

Tennyson, Wordsworth and Byron solely occupy the elite upper shelf,

Shakespeare’s Sonnets are all ‘booked out’,

his plays and other ditty’s are filed under literature.

ITS A FEMALE FANTASY

 

I’m a premier dream team

you know whatta mean

I night-scape, bringing my five alive.

 

vain.., maybe, long ago, bit of a game!

not these days, I’m neat and meaty

but... not a lot like Warren Beatty.

 

I’m a romantic hit... not a Brad Pitt

got creative talent.. but no bank balance

a poetic muse, daring, suggestive, but never crude.

 

I haven’t got a car, can’t take you very far..

don’t make a fuss... please get on the bus.

 

I’m a ‘he-mail’, throaty and course

not a seductive radio voice., rather a Marlboro horse

no other vice., only chicken tikka with rice.

 

Got moist, rosy lips.., but, unlike your perfect pair

mine are red raw with, ‘sad’... down turned tips.

 

Don’t sing for a tenner... or in Vienna, I’m a fan who won’t cling

but I do own a sizeable ‘ding a ling’.

 

Cally-Ally, I’m not a match for Downey Junior

but energetic ‘green fingers’... will grow you a perfect petunia.

 

(for W. S. C. F and J.)

The Anchor

Terafirma’s cacophony green hues,
framed by sanded terracotta, mounted on a vast
eternal blue anaglypta wall, tinged temple grey,

are second heaven, breeze tousled, a-top the Golden Cap,
curved and serrated headlands arc
‘jig-sawing’ the Dorset sky and the Dorset sea
in a distant mingled, muffled and misty
‘Turner’ sky-seascape,

they add vision to verse, capture colour by paint,
on the ‘china-white’ canvas,
five graded shades of God’s green,
glinting gold, slicked ‘wet sand’ ochre,
the shaded burnt amber keels of upturned boats.

Amalgams of spume, white with aquamarine,
stark, strong, then waning, fade away
towards that illusionistic horizon,
and finally, almost in a shaky ‘Monet’ silhouette,
the vibrant life and focus of the authentic inn,
romantically ‘back-lit’ by a swaying necklace
of multicoloured bright bobbing lights.

Seatown.
West Dorset Coast.

MIRROR IMAGE
(for Hillary.)

A frame in France
An Hepple dated, alive, in 65.

Halo Hillary, youth re-visited, uncanny!
Stained and lacquered, grime on grain.

Dappled maple, ‘try-on’, dress up tableaux textures,
Slick ‘back-drop’, one on one, very vogue, spinster black.

Stern or aloof, coquette or vain, a pose, or expression of strain?,
Lithe and pretty, but boyish, shapeless, up and down torso.

Serene swan-neck, porcelain delicate, centre stage poser,
Even side on, you are bare of asset, breast-less, no form.

The hat, a dare to share!, a tease, a wheeze?, flower power,
A fruit plate, mad hatters tea party, pro-pose?, who knows?.

I’d like to like her, gem honed eyes, transplanted from pure skies,
Golden, flaxen blond, ‘tousle me please’, locks of free flow hair.

Almost, a still-life personality, ‘on-hold’, sophistication, coming of age,
Did you grow and ripen?, I’d like to believe so, grace the ‘glossy’ page.

 

The Battle of the Brain

the revolt is revived

a decade of woolly wars

...  all lost

 

defeated by the infiltration

of drug warfare

scatter bomb capsules

toxic terminators

first-aid, ‘pill-boxes’

‘anti-improper gander’

parachuted in by leaflet dropped prescription.

 

a reduction in brain border

forces and fodder

allows a ‘theatre of opportunity’

the level playing field

atop the brain roof.

 

potent drug arsenals are depleted
the underground resistance begins to swell

auto pilots are shot down

the bug-bandits are shell shocked.

 

nerve endings are repaired
roads to reason are re-built

the un-elected benzo-bullies

are on the retreat...

to the margins of the mind

and the deserted, long dead

labyrinths of hollow cells.

 

the A list

 

sarah B... la voice, luscious diva

 

julia R... la lips, feisty lady

 

ally McB... la face, funny bunny

 

wendy H... la creme

top of the list, mine to be kissed.

 

death revisited
alphabetic audit

P for PLATH. S. ( 1932-1963.)

(after poem by Frieda Hughes.)

today that life would be preserved
that brilliant brain, post scientific scrutiny
given to damien to be bottled in a modified Bell-Jar.

the allocated and briefed angel of death
made an error of judgement
the initial set tests and tasks
to measure suitability for re-call were positive

the gas chamber challenge
was not on any authorised agenda
before the Hughes assessment was complete

the angelic assembly passed a decree
of apologetic regret and heartfelt regret...
Ms Plath was informed personally
by the council of the Trinity.

to compensate, and with due regard to talent,
parental duties and remorse Hughes
was exempt and protected
through his prime and productive years
finally to be recalled
to share and stimulate his remaining talent
with Sylvia.

hand signals

still soft
tender
light of touch

motorway
blue veined
brain to body

drug ‘dreg-ends’
damaged digitalis
pain ends... here

 

shake quake
pin-prick numb
clammy... clumsy

you...
hair tussle
cheek stroke
cuddle clasps

they...
hug and hold
cup and care
entwine and pray


you...
self inflict

hit and hurt

burn and bruise

 

handy man
...I
think not!

 

TEN QUESTIONS

 

FIVE... FROM THOSE FRIENDLY
FIVE... FROM THE ENEMY.

FIVE... ASKING THIS AND THAT
FIVE... TRYING TO SNARE A RAT.

FIVE... FULL FRONTAL ATTACK
FIVE... GETTING THE INITIATIVE BACK.

FIVE... TO CAUSE UPROAR AND DIN
FIVE... LETTING THE ‘SPIN-DOCTORS’ IN.

FIVE... TOPICAL... QUESTIONS OF THE DAY
FIVE... ‘RED-HERRINGS’ ... TAKE THE.. ‘HEAT’ AWAY.

WEDNESDAY... 3.30 P.M.

‘TIMES UP’
ANOTHER ‘SHOW-PIECE’ RUSE.

THE RESULT
NOUGHT OUT OF TEN

WE
‘JOE’ THE PUBLIC
LOOSE OUT...

...AGAIN.