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A lot of sweat
for not much yet.
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Category Archives: Other
Pam Won an Award
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Pam won an award
and the Mayor coughed
for her wonderful service to our community
and the Mayor coughed
a King’s Coronation Award
and the Mayor sneezed
usually called Mayor’s Awards
the Mayor forgot to turn off his microphone
in Coronation years they are named after the monarch
the Mayor rasped into the microphone
Pam was first up to receive her award
the Mayor coughed in his aide’s face
so, Pam was the first person in Stockport in seventy years
the Mayor coughed again
the Mayor sneezed
to win a coronation award
the Mayor shook hands
kissed cheeks
sneezed and coughed and rattled his throat
a King’s Coronation Award
and the Mayor coughed
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Many congratulations to my friend Pam Robinson, who deserves this award and more, for all the wonderful work she does in our community.
She was in excellent company that night in Stockport Council Chambers, and it was clear that the Mayor, bless him, despite being ill, very much wanted to be there to congratulate all of the award winners in person.
Luckily for Pam, as she was first up he hadn’t quite hit his stride, so she didn’t get a kiss or a handshake, and stayed healthy.
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Letters Page
The boy who serves
a breakfast of tea and post.
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Jocks’ Trap
O, the irony:
jocks wear letterman jackets.
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April
April
Changeable again
Layers Layers Layers
It’s the worst month
Spring
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As usual, technology slapped me around and laughed as it kicked me into the bin cupboard, so here’s another photo, showing how this poem should actually appear:
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The decreasing font size of Line 3 is intended to represent the varying size of the layers: from jumper to top to vest, with vest counted as underwear, or smalls…see what I did there? 😉
Changing fonts/font sizes/font colours and so on can add another layer to your poem (see what I did again?).
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Alternative?
Let’s forget alternatives:
if it’s not one thing, it’s another.
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All That Jazz
Jazz: a contrapuntal elaboration of static harmony –
i.e. barmy, to the uninitiated. It’s chromatic, diatonic, syncopated, pentatonic. It’s harsh on the ear, like a child’s first hearing
of a Shakespearean sonnet, finding the rhythm unclear,
the rhyme invisible, the whole indivisible from a clash
or a bash or a rash of noise. Not all have the chops to relish
bop or bebop, to absorb backbeats and block chords;
yet why not? It is the music of Counts, Dukes and Earls – aristocrats all.
Some ask, What is jazz for?
Counter point: what is any art for?
It is for self-expression; the death of repression; the impromptu
jam session. If you don’t swing that way, that’s cool:
not everyone’s schooled in creativity. Take your time,
whether half/dot/double or broken: jazz is never diminished
by miscomprehension. But try to open up to a little modulation –
a lot more syncopation – take a lick at sweet improvisation.
See your soul augmented as the music pours in;
you’ll find the whole tone legit. Just listen – just hear
and watch the blues quit.
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Intuition vs. Logic
With intuition
You have suspicion
Logic use
Is less abstruse
But to give all credit
Both have merit
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Plastic Surgery
Penile implants!
How much farther can it go?
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This was written twenty years ago, when I first read about penile implants and marvelled at how far plastic surgery has come. I’m still marvelling.
I think Pexels Free Photos is also a little befuddled by the whole thing: I typed ‘bandage’ when looking for an image and PFP must have misread the ‘a’ as an ‘o’ because some of those photographs were definitely not related to medicine...
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Frustration
thirteen drafts and thirteen more
another thirteen on the floor
each as bad as the one before
the ink is dry the work’s a chore
paper is the writer’s whore
grousing’s how the writer bores
Poetry Fluff 