Poet's Tea

December 24, 2004

christmas eve

Through blind slats
unusual light
makes circles on the floor.

I am off to find horizon,
and holly on the moor.

December 22, 2004

Sticky Labels

slap slap smooth
onto the envelope.
how many events
became to these pairings;
joined on a page of labels.

whichever way connections

an untidy heap
on the table.

December 21, 2004

A poet walks into the office

Just there for more material

daylight hours

To wrap up in metaphor.

December 17, 2004

One - Way

Winter flowers
Bloom suddenly
At the Underground exit;
Mostly in black.

The surface of this conveyor belt
Up to the City of the city
bobs gently
Under the weight of the morning's expectation.

to your destiny

This grim grey production line
to the End;

and delivered
For the Quality Assessment.

December 13, 2004

The Man In The Pub

This one's a cooperative effort by Ben, Ruth, myself and a random man whose name I forget in a pub in Angel last night.

The Man In The Pub

There was an old drunken old fart,
Who repeated himself from the start.
Drank plenty of beer;
And said he weren't queer
What a shame that he had to depart.

December 10, 2004

Ode to how crap the metro is

Inspired by a post on one more cup of coffee....

Bernie*, sleeping in hibernation
While the bone heals
Laments my departure each day
To the huddled tin;

Metro, oh you the doors to morning knowledge
confuddle my brain
with your astonishing array of headlines.

Observing waking commuters head-on
Is preferred,

But difficult to do subtly,
Without disturbing the LU Charter
Not to stare
when occupying the personal space
Of another commuter.

*bernie is my trusty steed, named after the security man at work. (he is the saviour of bike locks)

December 08, 2004

Life, The Universe and.

A random conversation that led to this, led to me thinking about this, and so this:


You couldn't fit it in your lunchbox
To take to show your school
You couldn't bounce it on your head
As you played in your paddling pool
You couldn't fit it in your pocket
Even if it were really big
You'd need a rocket, really
To shoot into beyond
But despite being fond
of stars and space and such
Your whole life there
Just would not touch
The expanse;
Fleeing into the future
Recoiling to the past
Starlit expanse


December 06, 2004

Old Street Cab Office

Two China dolls,
Sitting, heads sagging
under the weight of an evening's social activity.

Rosy cheeks
Illuminated in the neon cab-hub light
Blusher applied over
In the reddened glow of the Pool Bar mirrors.