Going Equipped

The officer stopped me, fairly, but firmly

Could you open your bag please?

What do we have here?

Alliteration

Assonance

Onomatopoeia

Metaphor

Simile

Personification

Repetition

Hyperbole

Enjambment

Anaphor

Epistrophe

Caesura

Couplets

Refrains

Rhythms

I Suspect  you of

Going equipped to write a poem

It’s a fair cop, I replied

But have committed no crime

For as you can see

I have included no rhyme

The Hat

No governess should be without,

A hat must whisper, it does not shout.

Sitting neat and prim and proper,

with its own special hook in her locker.

Below stairs girls  wear  pinafores  and bonnets,

But respectable heads need a statement on it.

A cut above the hoi polloi,

Looking classy, not sexy, demure and coy.

“gloves scarf and cloak”, bish bash bosh,

Finished off with  a neat blue cloche.

The Worm

Ever since I saw the bird pecking

With persistent dull thud

I have wondered

Are they really imitating the sound of rain?

Or do the worms think that it is a bird pretending precipitation again?

Do they think worms are stupid?

That they do not notice the absence of the fresh flow of water

Permeating the ground?

A perfect shower

Over their expectant dry bodies

Writhing, wriggling to its cool soft touch

Falling in love

This morning i fell in love with one sock

And realised that I was half way to finding the other

I discovered a partially consumed jar of home made marmalade

What love fomented its fermentation !

I found a feather

I should cherish it as it original owner had

I was bathed in sunlight, but shut it out

I should have relished its warmth and brightness

William Perry – Prizefighter

Heavyweight Champion of England

A knock kneed knock out

Six foot tall and sound

He defeated Tom paddock

Over twenty seven rounds

A useful navvy in London

But famed for his fives

Any daring to face him were risking their very lives

19 rounds for  a tenner, for your day in the sun

Was all that he wanted, But before he had taken  his fun

His opponents would flee, they would cut  and run

A brute rhino of a man , a formidable basher

As his opponents went on he run he became the Tipton Slasher

The Fountain inn at Dudley was where he earned his name

His pub, his turf, his undisputed domain

The neighbourhood lion

A fiery disposition and fists made of iron

And anyone who wanted to pass by to the adjacent lock gates

Would find that the Tipton Slasher for them lay in wait

For him they had to ask

Before they earned their pass

Symmetrical robust

With a herculean bust

he could turn and wheel, pivot-like, on that crooked pin

Feint to the left, feint to the right before he filled you in.

You could pay for your passage

Or challenge him for a purse

But the Tipton Slasher

Never came off worse.

In retirement he took over the bricklayers Arms

Ensuring no customer ever came to harm

A statue now stands on Coronation gardens

To one of Tipton’s own, their championship winning hardman.

Robert Plant

He stalked the stage

He sought the spots

He tossed his lions mane hair

Tousled teased preening

Impossibly so fair

His snake hips shimmied

His bare chest shone

He exploded like a supernova

He  walked  like Johnny depp  right into the sun

Then danced just like a Casanova

And all who heard would  see them there,

And all would  cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

A gift sent down from the skies above

Giving us all a whole lotta love

Inviting us in, nearer for a clinch

Closer than a yard,  or foot, nearer to an inch

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise

Not water, uncompromising, unyielding

Giving up no quarter

Knowing that there aren’t three but seven

Stairway steps to heaven

The Refuge

The Refuge

It was makeshift

Sheets and blankets draped over the edge

It could be dark and cold too

With enough space to hide  a little  food and drink

Under some clothes, and books, and a pillow

There I was shut off from the world

But safe

There I could dream. Just me.

My hopes close by, my fears beyond

Me on the inside

Everything on the outside

Time nestles neatly folded

Unmoving

Like an old coat

In the corner

A window  shudders, freshly rinsed

Peeling paint  perilously flutters

Against a  capricious breeze

It holds fast

Against the onslaught

For now.

Mumbles beach

Not caviar on a silver salver

Not fine cutlery

But wooden forks

And the meaty tang

Of vinegar soaked fare

To share