Wednesday, 27 April 2011

NaPoWriMo - Poem 12 - Bankers Rhymes With...

This is a poem inspired by the news images of bankers waving monetary notes above an NHS demonstration in London:

So let the bankers wave their notes
At nurses from their bunkers;
The buggers will have empty purses
One day, for their deeds.

Ignore the wankers with their bills
Above the noble workers;
They'll wake up in that other world
On bended f***ing knees.

Friday, 22 April 2011

NaPoWriMo - Poem 11 - It Could Be You

It Could Be You

That big white finger
In the sky
Could split the clouds
And come on down
To stop above
Your little house
And turn you
From a pauper
To a prince

But then that finger
Could come down
To point out
To the whole world how
You’re guilty
Of some unknown crime
And turn you
From your bed
Into a straightjacket or cell

We read our
Sunday papers
And marvel at the luck
Of those
Who win
And those
Who lose

But when a knock
Comes at
Your door
Remember that
This time
It could be you

NaPoWriMo - Poem 10 - Bone Poem

By mistake, you break a bone;
Take a smashing trip, or lose your grip
On a stair, somewhere.
Unable to get up
Because your tibia’s in two,
Your fibula in need of glue,
Disabled by your humerus:
Not humourous
At all. So, you could try calling the
National Accident Helpline. But all they’ll do
Is help you sue
Whoever made you fall.
And if that who was you,
Well, then – your bank account
Will be in two ‘n’ all.

Sunday, 10 April 2011

NaPoWriMo - Poem 9 - Whatifyou

(Or, better call the National Accident Helpline!)

Whatifyou have an accident at work
Whatifyou get tangled up in wires
Whatifyou trip or stumble,
Bounce on your bonce
Like a rubber ball, neckbones
Mangled, eyeballs
Angled so that you look
At everything sideways?

Whatifyou slip on milk in the supermarket
Whatifyou go flying arseovertip or
Headoverheels, whatifyou trip
On the trolley’s wheels
And all your microwave meals
Go f l y i n g ?

Whatifyou crash in a smash
With your car, or a bustumblesoveryou,
Or you’re walking along and a long
Lorry worms your way
Resulting in a terriblecase of
Stubtoe or
Backbreak or

Then you’d better call

Well, either that,
Or stop being such
A clumsy PRAT.

NaPoWriMo - Poem 8 - Llantwit

Llantwit Major is one village down from St Athan, where my mum lives. While I realise people from Llantwit are known as 'Llantonians', this is just a bit of fun, okay...??


If Cardiff’s the Diff,
and Newport’s the Port,
then what

is this?

NaPoWriMo - Poem 7 - Hey bud

This is my 2nd poem inspired by the Puya bud that is blossoming for the first time in 10 years at the Botanic Garden of Wales. It's a shorter n funnier one, and is meant to be read in a Cardiff accent. My longer (n better!) poem is below. Forgive me - this is written as part of the NaNoWriMo poem-a-day challenge. I'm - getting t i r e d . . . !

Hey bud

Hey bud. Stickin out the mud
Like tha - like summin rude.
I yurd you wuz the biggest in
The wurld. Well -
Yuh no’ so big tuh me.
I’ve seen biggerer, an berruh-
Ruh... I’ll gerruh measurin tape
An chuck ir at yuh, in a min.
Fatso. Freak. Yuh nor as brillyunt
As wha they says. Yoo-neek?
Nah. Bud? Hey bud??
Uh you listenin
Tuh me....???

Thursday, 7 April 2011

NaPoWriMo - Poem 6 - Poem for the Puya

This is a poem inspired by the fact the biggest bud in Wales is now beginning to bloom! A marvellous sight I am hoping to see within the next week... The Puya, as it's called, is on view at the National Botanic Garden of Wales, and this is the first time it's blossomed for a whole decade! Quite thrilling news... and the first of a few poems I feel inspired to write about the thing.
Find out more here:

Poem for the Puya

Puya, they call you. The word sticky
In their mouths. You prickle the roof
Of the glass house, unsettle the groups
Of visiting classes. Like a nettle, your
Leaves are stingsharp, laced with thorns.
“Cruel”, they remark. Your taste is for
Animal flesh, which they hook, pull in, and
Starve to death. Their blood is your food.
Your bed more wet with this than dew.

From the Andes to Llanarthney you
Came. A monster baby in a way: eight
Feet tall and closer to a mutant than
A flower. Towering above the others,
A giant in the nursery. Cursed to slowness,
Reliant on your new owners, still you
Grew, your brontosaurus neck too thick
For them to prune; a Chilean imposter
That loomed above its human masters.

But now, a decade later, you’re in bud,
About to blossom. Your body as round
And fulsome as a woman’s. Crowds
Come to marvel, wondering at your
Beauty. Eyes hunger for your form.
Cameras snap and looks are thrown,
But sweeter than before. You ignore
Them; take no note. Your name now
Sweet as nectar in every thirsting throat.

NaPoWriMo - Poem 5 - This is a poem

This is a poem

with a title that tumbles into the first line,
headlong, headstrong, with a sense of
entitlement. A trickster poem, its first offence
that thing you think a name. This is a poem
that doesn’t wait for you to collect or gather
thoughts; doesn’t sit there while you pause,
and then, begin. This is a poem that takes you in,
a sales pitch to itself; that shifts the posts to kick
you into some uncertain goal. But, don’t fret.
You don’t have to wait til the end. You can leave
at any point, grammatical or otherwise.
If this is a poem you really despise then please,
stop reading. Leave. Don’t bother with courtesy.
We won’t pause, won’t even remember because
this is a poem like life, you see.

NaPoWriMo - Poem 4 - Snowdon Poem

Snowdon Poem

Shake that shawl
From your collossal shoulders
And let your golden hair
Fall down.

I’m here, my dear,
To conquer your boulders
And with boldness emboldened
Step on your crown.

With my bootheels I’ll kiss you,
On your foothills I’ll climb;
When the fog falls I’ll curse you,
But still -
You’ll be mine.

NaPoWriMo - Poem 3 - Wringing True

Wringing True

Must be my inner raincloud,
Trying to get out.
That miserable dishcloth
That’s been about since I was young,
Blocking out my inner sun and
Soaking up each goddam ray,
A smoky thing that pisses
Grey, its coke-like kisses
Stinging, wringing curses and dismay...

My mucky puddle eyes reflect
The murky drizzle
In my depths that lets my freckles
Grow from specks to
Massive resevoirs.

My murky wishwash smile implies
Some inner grey
That seeps through sighs
As weeping for no reason
I recede to my boudoir.

My inner cloud’s
A dishcloth veil that hides all trace of sun...
I wish that I could smile, my face
A clear
And not a clouded

But that, I cannot do. And yet -
Raincloud, greycloud
Dismal as a frown, I’ve found
That only you
Wring true.

NaPoWriMo - Poem 2 - Bra Poem

The bra was invented
In two places
By Herminie Cadolle in France
And Mary Jacob in America.
Both sprang up in
The two countries
Almost instantaneously.
Twin buds of an idea,
Fleshed out and
Eventually ripening.
But no-one really knows
Who is the true
Tho one of them,
Like the things they cup,
Is bigger than the

NaPoWriMo - Poem 1 - Under Wraps

Under Wraps

From a young age, my tits gave me trouble.
Got me pinned by girls in the shitter as they
Inspected those things they hadnt yet got.

Made that man on the French tube slide
His hand onto mine, escargot eyes sliming
A trail over my pink sweater, me just eleven.

Impinged into the rear view mirror of a chap
Who happened by the motorway, that time;
Who licked his lips when I asked why and what

He wanted. Opened his car flaps and came
Towards me. And I ran away,
Into a teenagehood of hiding, myself and

These things: bubs, boobs, baps.
Twin bumps I only saw through the target eyes
Of others. And which from that last day

I kept, like the rest of me, hidden; under wraps.

NaPoWriMo - What IS it???

NaPoWriMo, or National Poetry Writing Month, is an annual project in which participating poets attempt to write a poem a day for the month of April.

NaPoWriMo was founded in 2003, when poet Maureen Thorson decided to take up the challenge (modeled after NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month), and challenged other poets to join her. Since then, the number of participants has gotten larger every year, and many writers' organizations, both national and local, organize NaPoWriMo activities.

I will be taking part this year. Keep posted on my posts, and check out the website - it isn't too late to take part!

Friday, 1 April 2011

Forked Up!

Just a little blog to say what a *brill* time I had at Forked in Plymouth last week... Thanks to Gina and all at Apples & Snakes for the booking!!

The next day, I was very happy to visit the National Marine Aquarium and see all sorts of amazing fishy things in their *huge* tanks and pools...!!

Next up: All You Need is Fluff at Cheltenham Poetry Festival this Sunday! Hope to see you there!!