A Walk in the Rain

Diane is in Love

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 08 May 2008 09:27:00 +0000

The sun is in the sky.
The grass is in the ground.
The mountain tops are high
And the world, they say, is round.

A dog walks round in circles
Till he finds a place to sleep.
Traffic, stress and work ills
Are all buried ten feet deep.

Amanda's hair is blond
And the dress she wears is white.
She says she's very fond
Of puppies, fish and night.

There's a twinkle in her eye
And a sparkle in her smile.
To shout or swear or lie
Simply wouldn't suit her style.

Amanda's on a hill
When she sees her friend Diane.
They both have time to kill.
Amanda forms a plan

To go to where Diane is
To see if she has news,
And ask her how her gran is,
And show off her new shoes.

Diane's news is this:
She's found true love again.
She's taken love's sweet bliss
Out of her recycle bin.

The man she loves is Freddie.
Right now he'd be in bed.
He often seems unsteady
On his feet and in his head.

But when he's fully sober
He can dance like Fred Astaire.
He promised he would show her
How to waltz with style and flair.

When he's at his local
He has little use for legs.
Some friendly legless folk'll
Empty two or three beer kegs.

His company is welcome,
And he'll always buy his round.
He's funny and he's seldom
Short of tales that will astound.

Her parents think she's crazy
To consider life with Fred.
They say he's rude and lazy
And he smells of something dead.

They'd rather see her choosing
A fine young man called Stan.
You'll never catch him boozing
And he dearly loves Diane.

He says she's like a flower
And he's sure that heaven sent it.
He's proud of his brain power
And the horse bra he invented.

She has to make a choice
But she can't make up her mind.
She could take her heart's advice
And accept that love is blind.

Or else she could take heed
Of her head's repeated pleas.
It says there is a need
To ignore her weakened knees.

Amanda says the future
Can be seen in clouds above.
These visions may not suit your
Deepest-held beliefs in love.

The clouds are better guides
Than the tea leaves or the stars.
You can make out grooms and brides
Or thieves behind steel bars.

They look up at the sky
Where the clouds are roaming free.
A white cloud passes by
And its shape is plain to see.

It's a horse who's wearing blinkers
And a bra, though lacking breasts.
Diane won't need great thinkers
To explain what this suggests.

But Amanda disagrees.
She thinks they should keep looking.
They face a gentle breeze,
Watching clouds that fate is cooking.

In one great cloud they see
A semi-conscious man.
Their faces light with glee.
"It's Freddie!" says Diane.

If a tree falls in the woods...

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 01 May 2008 10:19:00 +0000

While walking in a forest
On an autumn afternoon
A tree fell down on me
As I sang a carefree tune.

I would have made my exit,
But no one was around.
I didn't hear it falling
Coz it didn't make a sound.

I was trapped beneath the tree.
I was well-and-truly stuck.
I tried creating F words
That soon terminate in 'uck'.

But these were also silent.
No one heard me shout.
I gave it all my lung-power
But still nothing would come out.

I couldn't free my right arm.
I had to wait for hours
Before I saw some people
Out collecting forest flowers.

They saw me on the ground
But they couldn't understand
That I wasn't really waving.
I was clapping with one hand.

The Scrap Yard

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 09:58:00 +0000

Dermot and Thomas spent long summer days
In search of scrap metal and wires,
Copper coal scuttles, brass kettles and cups,
Bits of car engines and tyres.

This haven for junk was a heaven for them.
Dermot's Dad owned the scrap yard.
It seemed like The Ritz for the rats, who were pets.
A one-eyed Jack Russell kept guard.

They made new machines from the old junk they found.
Cars were stripped down and left bare.
Their scrap metal clothes could be used to make wings
On either side of a wheelchair.

They once made a robot on wheelbarrow wheels.
A parrot cage served as its skull.
The cage made brain surgery easy as pie,
But it once trapped a passing seagull.

They put an old filofax into the cage.
They wrote robot thoughts on the cards,
Like 'Put the tin cans in the recycle bin',
Or 'Use the death ray on the guards'.

They often remained at the scrap yard all day,
Building machines until night.
None of these worked, but they didn't mind,
As long as their fancy took flight.

One day they opened the boot of a car.
They found a black briefcase inside.
They opened the lock with a hammer and chisel.
Their mouths and their eyes opened wide.

This black leather briefcase was full of hard cash,
A windfall where dangers may lurk.
But they only thought about spending this money
To make sure their robot would work.

They bought a small engine to power its three wheels.
It moved just as quick in reverse.
They also got hydraulic pumps for its arms.
They got it to race with a hearse.

They used a new radio control to command
The robot to wave as it eased
Past the black hearse with the newly deceased
Who was free to respond as he pleased.

One morning the bright summer sun rose above
The mountain of junk and scrap metal.
Dermot removed a car door lost to rust,
As brittle as any dried petal.

A shadow engulfed him. When he turned around
He saw a tall man with a gun.
Dermot's left leg became frozen in fear.
His right leg just wanted to run.

The man with the gun said, "You know why I'm here.
What have you done with the money?"
Dermot prepared his response in advance.
He dearly hoped this would sound funny.

But just before Dermot began his response,
Fearing the end would be nigh,
The robot appeared and advanced on the man.
The card in its skull said 'Destroy!'.

Thomas controlled it from inside the shed.
It started to make a strange sound.
They saw some black smoke right before it exploded.
Their visitor dived to the ground.

A few seconds later he stood up again.
He ran while the robot still burned.
He never looked back as he ran to the gate,
And since then he's never returned.

They rescued the brain and they re-built their robot.
This time they gave it four feet.
Thomas said, "I'm glad it didn't explode
While racing the hearse on the street."

Hugh and Jones

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 10:04:00 +0000

Hugh will play an old guitar
In city streets or in a bar.
He sings his songs about James Dean
(The name he gave to his last bean)

And cricket bats who talk in Dutch,
Conversing with a wooden crutch,
And aliens who look like ducks,
Instead of quacks they talk in clucks.

His favourite song relates the tale
Of searching for the holy grail
With his friend, a man called Jones
Who's always talking to his bones,

Warning them against escape,
Eloping underneath a cape
With a female skeleton
He met while in the peloton

Of a bike race all round France
For skeletons who don't need pants.
The winners won't get many hugs
But people know they don't use drugs.

Hugh and Jones set off to claim
The holy grail and save a dame.
They just assumed they'd somehow find
A damsel in a tricky bind.

With wooden swords and plastic spoons
They showed no fear to thugs or goons.
Jones had bought an ancient map
From a most peculiar chap

Who wore his trousers inside out
To tempt and yet instil some doubt
In people prone to picking pockets.
Some will leave receipts or dockets.

His bulging pockets catch their eyes.
To reach the pot of gold they prize
They'd have to put a hand inside
His cardboard belt. No one's tried.

He never fears the thieves in hoods,
But sometimes when he's buying goods
He has to feel around to find
His coins and when he's feeling kind

He'll leave a tip and get a smile.
Shop assistants like his style.
But when he takes the wrong thing out
They stare in shock and scream and shout.

His back pocket held the map.
Jones kept it beneath his cap
After paying twenty quid.
Twenty-five was his first bid.

On the map a red line showed
The only route, the sacred road
To follow if you seek the grail.
It starts at 'Go' and goes through 'Jail'.

They walked past many red hotels.
The walls concealed eternal hells.
The names in flashing neon light
Promised heaven every night.

Should customers decide to stay
And reach inside their pants to pay,
If it looks like they enjoy it
They may well be compelled to buy it.

For this they'd face an extra fee.
Nothing ever comes for free.
As night time came around once more
Hugh and Jones felt tired and sore.

They found a place to rest their heads.
It lacked a light bulb, chair and beds.
It had a hole, an eerie sound
And mattresses upon the ground.

Through the sheets they saw the springs
And odd shapes classified as 'things'.
Ignore them when they start to creep.
Just hope they die or fall asleep.

Hugh woke up at half past three
When Jones's bones were trying to flee.
The skeleton was nearly at
The door when he put on a hat.

Hugh picked up a sword and said,
"I think you should return to bed."
The skeleton halted in mid-stride.
He paused a while. It seemed he sighed.

He put the hat back on the ground,
And with a sombre rattling sound
He trudged towards the mattress where
Jones was sleeping unaware

He'd lost his inner scaffolding.
His skeleton's sad laugh will ring
In dreams of doing magic tricks
Like pulling rabbits out of bricks.

Their breakfast seemed to brim with life.
The hotel staff brought further strife.
The waiter stared when Jonsie said
That he preferred his breakfast dead.

Hugh and Jones were chased away.
Later on this summer day
The map led them down country lanes
Where sights and sounds massaged their brains.

If they were cats they'd smell the cream.
They found a field beside a stream.
They thought the grail was underneath
The grassy ground beneath their feet.

They dug for hours but sadly failed
To be enriched, enhanced, engrailed.
All they found were coins and bones.
They looked for signs in rocks and stones.

They listened to their feathered friends.
They even lifted up the ends
Of all the rainbows that they found,
But all they saw was gold and ground.

They met a woman dressed in white
Who told them all about her plight.
Her dog had chased a cat away.
She hadn't seen him since midday.

Hugh and Jones said they would help.
Jones could hear a bark or yelp
From a dog three miles away,
And translate what they're trying to say.

He listened very carefully
He heard a poodle bark a plea
To be allowed to roll around
In a pig sty's muddy ground.

Amongst the sounds of bees and birds
He heard a dog bark out these words:
"I thought we'd meet and have a chat.
I will not kill you, Mister Cat."

By then the dog was nearly hoarse.
They walked towards the barking's source.
A mile away they found the dog
Beneath a tree beside a bog.

Each high-pitched bark would need a bleep.
That vexing cat was now asleep.
But when he saw his owner he
Wagged his tail and barked in glee.

And she was clearly overjoyed.
When her tears of joy had dried
She asked them if they'd like some food
And wine to light the evening mood.

She took them to her house and made
A meal for which they would have paid
A pot of gold to get in places
Patronised by famous faces.

They felt at last they'd found their prize.
An inner glow lit up their eyes.
The grail had followed them by stealth
And caught them in the peace they felt.

They'd helped a damsel fight distress,
Clearing up her doggie's mess.
Hugh insists that all this happened,
Though he accepts that it's a crap End.

Bill's Windfall

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 09:50:00 +0000

He bet on a horse called Burlington Bunny.
He cheered the horse home and then when he won he
Went with his winnings to see his friend Jack
And told him the tale of his luck at the track.

They wondered and planned how to play this good hand,
To spend something short of a third of a grand.
If someone would lend them a few hundred more
They'd use all this money to hire the town whore

And she could start work on re-wiring Bill's house.
A water pipe electrocuted a mouse.
For ten years before she began her new job
She was a good electrician called Bob.

Or they could invest the cash in stocks and shares.
A company called 'Goldilocks and Three Bears'
Make a great porridge that Jack loves to eat.
It's only too hot when it spills on his feet.

They went to the pub and they put some more thought
Into the money and what should be bought.
Bill told the bar man about his wise bet.
The horse looked as if he was powered by a jet,

But it might just have been that the food he consumes,
The high-fibre meals brought in buckets by grooms,
Causes the current of wind through his tail.
On calm wind-less days he could fill a yacht's sail.

A man at the bar overheard Bill's account
From placing the bet to the jockey's dismount.
The man said, "It's obvious you're not a beginner.
You've got a real talent for spotting a winner.

"I'll show you a greyhound who outruns the wind,
And unlike the breeze he can round any bend.
I'll sell you this greyhound for three-hundred euros.
He's won all his races. His name is The Blue Rose."

Bill was intrigued by this generous offer.
He'd happily empty his newly-filled coffer
To buy such a greyhound and take him to races,
And wear handmade top hats and buy champagne cases.

The man said he'd show Bill and Jack this great dog
Who'd outrun his rivals when out for a jog.
They went to a farm just a few miles away.
As night time approached to extinguish the day

They saw The Blue Rose in the last of the sun.
Bill was surprised by how fast he could run.
He said, "This fine dog has one hell of a dash,
So why would you sell him for such little cash?"

The man said, "My wife bought a poodle last week.
Since the weekend she's refusing to speak.
My wife, not the dog. She won't talk to me,
But looks from her eyes can still sting like a bee.

"The Blue Rose attacked her new poodle called Willow.
He might have thought it was a sentient pillow.
He likes tearing cushions and pillows apart.
In this one he would have located a heart.

"In selling the greyhound I had little choice.
She made her demand in the guise of advice."
Bill said he'd buy The Blue Rose without thinking.
They settled the deal and got back to their drinking.

About a week later, with some help from Jack,
Bill took the greyhound to run at the track.
But somehow he seemed to be lacking in pace.
He stayed in the traps till the end of the race.

A bookie told Bill all about The Blue Rose,
Explaining the reason his new greyhound froze.
This dog was so quick that he once caught the hare.
Unlike owls and cats they don't make a nice pair.

The dog tried to kill this mechanical quarry,
An action for which he was soon to be sorry.
An electric shock made him run from the track,
And now he's afraid of the hare who fought back.

Bill still had hopes for his greyhound's career.
He'd run fast if he could get over his fear.
Bill made a hare with some string and a stick,
And an old teddy bear on which he'd once been sick.

The Blue Rose would tremble whenever he saw it,
Refusing to sniff it or bite it or paw it.
But gradually he became used to this creature
Who'd show no desire to shock you or eat your

Breakfast or dinner or many dog biscuits.
As time passed the greyhound was willing to risk its
Personal safety by sniffing the hare.
He liked the strong scent from the old teddy bear.

A glittering career for The Blue Rose still beckoned
But all this good work was undone in a second.
The dog couldn't know of the dangers that lurk
Because of the wires in Bill's house that need work.

The dog got a shock from a shelf and he fled.
From the fake hare the dog cowered in dread.
Bill kept his greyhound, who makes a good pet.
To mice and to pillows he brings a quick death.

The Long Weekend

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 10:16:00 +0000

Andrew and Mabel were glad to leave home
And see the vast ocean beneath a blue dome.
They stayed in a guesthouse with views of the bay
And beautiful sunsets to finish the day.

They spent the weekend taking in the sea air,
Listening to seagulls and whistling 'La Mer',
Exploring the coastline on well-trodden paths,
And well-hidden arbours that hid sleeping cats.

In small seafront restaurants that served fresh seafood
They both felt at ease in the calm, relaxed mood.
They visited pubs for the view of the sea,
And a quick drink or two while they're there, maybe three.

In one of those pubs on a quiet afternoon
They looked at a single red birthday balloon
That seemed out of place in the maritime theme,
And would raise some questions if this were a dream.

A steam ship's barometer hung on the wall.
A glass case protected an old canon ball.
Fishing nets, rope, oars and flags from afar
Hung from a beam at the back of the bar.

The brass bell above the front door rang again.
A man stepped inside and he ordered a gin.
He walked with a limp as he went to a table.
This man started talking to Andrew and Mabel.

He said he had travelled across the great oceans
And felt the tumultuous wave of emotions
That seem to be stirred by a wild storm at sea.
The lightning highlighted a reason to be.

Thoughts of their grave gave a reason to live,
The one welcome gift The Grim Reaper can give.
He dreamt of becoming a Captain to gain
The heart of a lady, and part of her brain.

Her parents would never allow her to marry
A run-of-the-mill lowly seaman called Larry.
But he was determined to win their respect.
They looked up to leaders like Captains -- he checked.

He sighed and he said, "We're just play-things for gods.
They look down and see us as good lightning rods.
Just when your heart is a stove for love's fire it's
Right at this time you'll get captured by pirates.

"I spent the next year and a half in slave labour.
I missed having walls between me and my neighbour.
The bedroom held twenty. We didn't have beds,
Just Cantonese phonebooks to rest weary heads.

"I made my escape when I fought off a guard.
I left him bewildered and feathered and tarred.
My long journey home took a year to complete.
My shoes had worn down to the soles of my feet.

"With the frying pan gone, the fire of despair
Was waiting for me in the long golden hair
Of the woman I loved as she remained wrapped in
The muscular arms of a statuesque Captain.

"They'd just been married. I hurried away.
I set sail again on the very next day.
I didn't set foot in this place for five years.
I fought thieves and pirates and demons and fears.

"But when I returned a faint glimmer of hope
Lit mental scenes of the day I'd elope
With my true love. Her husband was dead,
Killed in a fight in a bar as he fled.

"I couldn't convince her to leave town with me.
She needed the blessing of her family.
They'd turned against sailors. Their son-in-law's death
Had given him manners that he'd never get

"From spending nights drinking with dangerous men
And women who'd bite off the head of a hen
As part of a well-known seduction technique.
They'd swallow the eyes but they'd spit out the beak.

"He became known as a great womaniser,
Which angered his wife. He came to despise her.
She hated him. She struggled to hide
The joy that she felt when she heard that he'd died.

"This is why I settled down on dry land.
I set up a factory where seafood was canned.
I built up my business and as the years passed
I earned the respect of her parents at last.

"I couldn't help thinking the future looked bright,
But sadly my factory burnt down one June night.
It wasn't insured, a fact that was noted
During her family's meeting. They voted

"To show their support for a man known as Dean
Who'd obviously failed to inherit the gene
That stops people falling in holes or down stairs
Or using a stick to disturb sleeping bears.

"But he would inherit his family's wealth.
Their fortune remained in good hands and good health.
Her family twisted her arm for so long
They made her head do what her heart knew was wrong.

"She married this man. I left here once more.
My home was the sea and a strange foreign shore.
Be wary of creatures who bite but don't bark.
I lost my left leg to the jaws of a shark.

"And so I came home. My true love I met.
Her husband was dead so there's hope for us yet.
He died when he fell from a roof where he'd been
To see if the raindrops would wash his suit clean.

"We're both middle-aged and I'm penniless, but
I'm trying to get back on my feet, or my foot.
I'll start my own business, and learn from the past,
And then I will marry my true love at last."

Mabel said this was a beautiful tale.
Andrew did not know sign language or Braille,
But he could read hints. He thought he could tell
That she meant 'Let's help him get out of his hell'.

He gave Larry two-hundred euros in cash
And straightaway thought that he'd done something rash.
Larry was shocked, and then filled with joy.
He seemed to be doing his best not to cry.

He said, "This investment will put me on track.
When you return you'll get twice as much back."
He shook Andrew's hand and he finished his drink.
He left with a smile and a nod and a wink.

Mabel said, "What you just did was so kind,
But I think you've been conned by a criminal mind.
The story he told was exactly the same
As the plot of a film. I've forgotten its name."

They looked out the window and saw Larry run.
He clearly was pleased with the job he had done.
Sometimes he skipped. The limping had gone.
He couldn't believe the success of his con.

Jilly's Puppets

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 11:26:00 +0000

She looks at her hands for long stretches of time.
They keep her amused and content.
She pays little heed to the clock's hourly chime.
It's something to do during Lent.

They're like naked puppets, unable to hide,
There to be spied on by others,
A wedding night film of a groom and a bride
That's seen by their fathers and mothers.

She thinks that the future is there in a palm
Because it will show you the past,
Revealing a life of immense peace and calm,
Or a life of suspense lived too fast.

And she thinks the past is a trustworthy guide
To show what the future will hold.
It's nearly as sure as the change of the tide.
In past acts the future is told.

She made two glove puppets to clothe her bare hands,
Her right hand resplendent in white,
A grand bridal gown. The left understands
That she always favours the right.

The left hand's the groom. Jilly's right-handed.
Both hands are close to her heart.
Without the left groom the right bride would feel stranded.
They're rarely an arm's length apart.

If past acts can outline her future life's course,
Her boyfriend's inaction's a worry.
He can be silent for hours till he's hoarse.
To marry her he's in no hurry.

For ten years she's waited for him to propose.
On sporting fields he'll shout and curse.
He's like a great river when flood water flows.
With her he's a glacier or worse.

She needs to take matters into her hands.
She uses the bride and groom puppets.
The groom puppet looks quite content as it stands
Despite the fact her hand is up its

Newly-washed trousers. It's dressed to the nines.
The puppets act out a short play
In front of her boyfriend. He should see the signs
And ask the big question today.

The groom asks the bride if she'll do him the honour
Of taking his hand in marriage.
Without her he'd wither. He'd soon be a gonner.
He'll be a strong horse for her carriage.

The bride says she will and the two puppets kiss.
Jilly expresses her joy.
She says that their love will create wedded bliss
And a glove puppet girl or a boy.

Her boyfriend is briefly dumbfounded by that.
He pauses before he says this:
"Can my brother Anthony borrow your cat?"
Her answer won't trigger a kiss.

Her right hand is desperate to injure his head.
She tries very hard to restrain it.
She lets it attack the poor left hand instead.
Her boyfriend thinks he can explain it.

He thinks that she's ruling the cat idea out.
His question has just fallen flat.
It's bad for his brother, of this there's no doubt,
But it's certainly good for the cat.

The Egg Cup

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 11:01:00 +0000

To Derek it seemed much too quiet in the park.
Even the dogs were refusing to bark.
He walked quickly on through the shadows of trees.
The gaze of the crows and the sound of the breeze

Added a sense of unease to the place
And painted a faint trace of fear on his face.
He wondered how long this spring day would stay dry.
The clouds were clowning around in the sky,

Chasing each other like dogs without leads
Who run through suburban estates, where their deeds
Are often observed and recorded in song
By bedroom-bound teens who will secretly long

To run with the dogs as they chase diamond thieves,
With helpful advice from a butler called Jeeves.
The clouds found a suitable land for their rain,
Like dogs finding lamp posts, a massive Great Dane

Of a cloud brought a downpour that made people hide.
They pulled up their hoods or sought shelter inside.
Derek went into an old antiques shop
And brought some rain water. A bucket and mop

Were needed to clear up the pool on the floor,
On a bare patch of carpet inside the front door.
This dark shop was full of antiques and old junk.
An ungainly bull or an off-balance drunk

Couldn't help breaking old tea cups and saucers
And fine china plates with minute scenes from Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales, or from Shakespeare's Macbeth,
Or colourful scenes that depict the black death.

A stuffed bird's glass eye cast a sorrowful gaze
Over the shop and its intricate maze
Of paths between cabinets, sideboards and tables,
Owned by eye-witnesses to Aesop's fables.

Prints, maps and paintings adorned the shop's walls,
Portraits that once hung in vast stately halls.
For Derek the shop seemed more like a museum.
He wondered if some of these objects could see him.

Each time he looked at the portraits the eyes
Were staring at him. To his surprise
He saw two real eyes in the dark, like two stars.
They stunned him like headlights of oncoming cars

On poor helpless rabbits on roads late at night.
A woman emerged from the dark to the light.
She looked about eighty. She smiled and said, "Welcome."
She asked if he'd like to see teapots from Belgium.

Before he could answer she took him to see
The Belgian teapots and a skeleton key,
A stuffed Persian cat and an owl that were owned
By a woman who had been convinced she had cloned

Her favourite pet cat and a mouse it had caught,
But as it eventually transpired, she had not.
Derek was shown many vases and paintings.
He listened to her as she tried to explain things

About what to look for in buying antiques.
Cracks will de-value a vase and cause leaks.
She showed him a small silver egg cup and said,
"The owner of this used to take it to bed.

"He kept the egg cup in his pocket by day.
Close to his heart it was destined to stay.
It brought him good luck till the day that he died.
His sad sudden death came about when he tried

"To re-wire a doorbell to make the sound louder.
His ill-judged experiment involved some gunpowder.
For decades before his spectacular death
He wasn't familiar with losing a bet,

"And he became very successful with women.
They used to think he was as sour as a lemon.
When he had the egg cup they saw he had class,
Like a slice of lemon with ice in a glass."

He wanted to leave so he said he would buy
The old silver egg cup. This brought her great joy.
He paid twenty euros. She told him he'd made
A well-informed purchase -- he's sharp as a blade.

When he left the shop, the rain clouds had cleared.
The clouds in the sky were like Santa's white beard,
Or poodles who raced right across the blue sky.
Santa could bet on the outcome up high.

Derek thought he might just get his cash back.
The egg cup's good luck could be tried at the track.
He bet on a dog who was fifty-to-one,
Who stared at spectators when they shouted 'Run!'.

He gave the egg cup to his sister, who thought
That this was the best birthday present he'd bought.
She was intrigued by this silver antique.
She sold it for ten-thousand euros last week.

Peter and Michelle

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 12:08:00 +0000

They met by the sea. They looked at their hands.
They whistled a tune and exchanged wedding bands.
They lived in a house with a mouse and a cat.
She wore the trousers. He wore a hat.

She managed to make him wear trousers as well.
She caused a distraction each time they fell.
Sometimes she sang and sometimes she danced.
No one would notice that he'd been de-pantsed

When she sang her song about cheating at tennis,
Abusing the umpire and blaming the Guinness.
He sings in a choir. He has a deep voice.
He frequently gives people goose bumps and lice.

He is a hopeless romantic at heart.
He once took a week to construct a pie chart.
It shows the importance of things in his life.
The biggest slice of the pie is his wife.

The next biggest slice is his interest in birds.
His wife's slice is fractionally short of two thirds,
And birds are one eighth. Swearing's a tenth,
But this slice is always removed during Lent.

He tries not to swear, but sometimes he'll fail.
He'll try to suppress it or write it in Braille.
There are occasions when he can't keep in
His favourite swear words. His bad language bin

Is emptied at somebody's feet and it stinks.
Michelle remains as unmoved as the Sphinx.
She won't shout or swear. She'll always stay calm.
Her warm, gentle smile will provide a good balm

To ease any anger. She radiates peace.
She can turn fights into light scenes from Grease.
When gangs face each other, exuding pure venom,
Clad in black leather and hair gel and denim,

Michelle arrives and she stands in between,
And they start their singing and dancing routine.
She never loses her temper and swears,
Or even expresses her anger in glares.

She smiled with good grace when an ex boyfriend said
That somehow or other he'd woken in bed
With a good-looking woman he'd met in a bar,
But she put an incontinent dog in his car.

Dave

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 11:02:00 +0000

Dave is proud of his bronze tan,
His golden hair and his silver van.
It carries him from place to place.
He keeps it cleaner than his face.

His chat-up lines make women weak,
So much so they cannot speak,
But they can puke. Dave says 'cheers'.
Their eyes can leak a lot of tears

That leave mascara stains on cheeks.
If they had stayed awake for weeks
They couldn't look as bad as this.
They feel the opposite of bliss.

Instinct helps them find the bar.
They couldn't tell you where they are.
They only know they hate this place.
With lipstick smeared across their face,

This completes the sad clown look.
Their plans to write a childrens' book
Start to seem like pointless dreams.
All ambitions, plans and schemes

Appear as just a waste of time.
They'll always be a clown or mime,
Acting out life's main events
Within the confines of a fence,

A fence that only they can see.
They'll never feel remotely free.
Their eyes are pools of deep despair.
They'll find a biscuit in their hair.

The more Dave talks, the more they cry.
Their well of tears will not run dry.
Their face illuminates their plight,
And Dave thinks 'It's my lucky night'.

I Robbed a Bank

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 11:22:00 +0000

I wore a plastic mask
When I undertook this task.
I called myself Hank
When I robbed a bank.

If I'm being honest,
And recently I promised
To give up telling lies,
Removing truth's disguise,

I wore the mask as Hank
But I really rubbed a bank,
A piggy bank, a plastic one.
I didn't need to use a gun.

I rubbed it just to see
If a genie would grant me
Three wishes I could use
On women, cars and booze.

If I'm being honest,
That's not the truth, as promised.
It was a pig.

The Race

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 11:05:00 +0000

Kevin drinks stout
While the pub's singers shout.
His friends sing along
To the fifty-verse song.
The pub is the place
They consider their base.
It's where they met Batman
Who's currently Flatman.
He's under the table,
Undressed and unable
To utter a word
That's clear and unslurred.
That's where they drank him
And now they can't thank him
For killing the villain
Who sang like Bob Dylan.
The songs that he sang
By Kool and the Gang
And Barbara Streisand
Sounded like noise and
A sense of despair
Polluted the air
Till Batman arrived
And righteousness thrived.
The villain was killed
And stomachs were filled
And emptied soon after.
The air filled with laughter.
The floor filled with puddles,
Emotional muddles,
And then floods of tears
That cried out for more beers.
Strong superheroes
And villains all fear those
Emotional gales
When typical males
Can lose self-control
And bare more than their soul.

He undressed himself,
They hasten to add.
He cried when he spoke
About pleasing his Dad.

He says he's unable
To drink any more.
He seems to be happy
Enough on the floor.

They drink tequila,
Unable to feel a
Faint trace of remorse
For the poor race horse
They backed in the second,
And victory beckoned.
But he fell at the third.
He said a horse F word.
These manners don't suit him.
The vet tried to shoot him.
The gun shot was frightening.
The horse ran like lightning.
Kevin and co
Then decided to go.
Six hours have past
And night time is fast
Approaching this land
And Batman can't stand.
The light bulbs come on
When daylight is gone.
The one over Kevin
Illuminates heaven.
He feels a great joy,
A knowledge-based high.
He outlines his plan
And they call him The Man.

The horse who fell
Races again in ten days.
The starter accepts
A small bribe, and it pays.

He uses a pistol
For starting this race.
The horse they backed moves
At a lightning-quick pace.

He wins by ten lengths.
He'd win with a cart.
The favourite is frozen
In fear at the start.

Uncle Hal's Party

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 15:09:00 +0000

At parties thrown by Uncle Hal
The host is everybody's pal.
He's holier than thou until
A drop of drink ignites a thrill.

His halo-less unholiness
Can leave his house in quite a mess.
Women, lemon, lime and gin
And demons in a metal bin

That holds a haunted liquid
That would make you stick with coffee.
Some of those who drink it
Will believe their brains are toffee,

And this is leaving through their nose
And getting bogged down on their clothes.
Their brain keeps trying to get away
Despite attempts to make it stay.

They shove it up their nose again.
They take the bits stuck to their chin
And put them in a honey jar.
This goo is part of who they are.

Billy meets a woman who
Has held onto her head's grey goo,
Despite a vast amount of drink
Her brain remains and tries to think.

She can talk of plays and books
Until she uses nods and looks
And winks instead of sentences.
He finally gets the hint and says,

"Let's go out to get some air."
They go out to the garden where
They're all alone and silence reigns,
A state that baffles goo-based brains.

Ducks say 'quack'. They lack the words
To say 'We're most peculiar birds'.
But 'quack' will do. That's all they need.
Their books would not take long to read.

Cats meow and dogs say 'bow'.
Their wonder makes them add a 'wow'.
Cows say 'moo' and ghosts say 'boo'.
Owls will hoot while pigeons coo.

But Billy has no words at all.
He'd like to have a mating call,
Like Uncle Hal, who rings a bell.
He does a little dance as well.

Without a call to say 'Let's mate'
The silence is a life-less weight.
This makes him speak without a plan.
He says, "I ate a Lego man."

Half a second later they
Are moving quickly on their way
To find a place behind the shed.
The lawn will be their double bed.

They kiss with such explosive passion
That they surprise a passing Dachshund.
This is audible in his barks.
The 'wow's have exclamation marks.

Poems from 2005

noreply@blogger.com (Henry Seaward-Shannon) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 15:07:00 +0000

These poems originally appeared on an earlier version of this site.

Cyril on New Year's Day.

"The start of a day and a new year is here.
"On New Year's Day in the morning again.
"A good time to think about this time next year;
"Things to do now so you'll be better then."

He thinks of last night and the people he met.
And the list of things to do for the year.
He wrote it last night so he wouldn't forget.
A smile on his face but he reads it in fear.

The smile disappears and the fear takes hold
When he reads number five on this list he made:
'Help out the people who are homeless or old.
'Work in a home and never get paid.'

A moment of panic that passes away.
The colour of ink makes him think it's a joke.
A line added in by his friends yesterday.
Just like the one about buying a cloak.

He laughs and reads on but he stops at eight:
'Give up the drinking and join a gym.'
He stares into space and the laugh arrives late.
"It's all just a joke. They must think I'm dim.

"I'll start as I mean to continue this year.
"Improving myself and proving them wrong.
"Smiling at things and spreading good cheer.
"A spring in my step and singing a song.

"We'll skip through the snow and know where to go.
"Getting lost in the snow is so zero-four.
"No more aimless wandering to and fro.
"Last year I got lost within feet of my door.

"I'll focus my head to improving my mind.
"That was at nine on my list for the year.
"I must have written it in when half-blind.
"It looks nothing like what I wrote up to there.

"I'll go back to bed for an hour or two.
"I'll rest my sore head and then learn to play chess.
"That was at ten on the things I should do,
"But right now my mind I need to use less."

Don't quote us on that.

Any day now we'll have good times again.
And 'now' is soon or I'll eat my hat.
I don't know how soon, but sooner than 'then'.
When I say 'sooner' don't quote me on that.

Good times will come; so say the stars.
And don't quote the stars; they say what they see.
We can send rovers and robots to Mars,
But stars can't wear glasses or climb up a tree.

A horoscope won't always give you the details.
The stars are billions of miles from this earth.
The weather forecast will sometimes miss gales,
And their satellites can see stains on your shirt.

The stars are there to offer us hope.
Not tell you the things to do to get rich.
Even with the benefit of a space telescope.
They wouldn't see which path to riches is which.

And if you see things in our manifesto,
It's just a rough guide of what we will do.
Others will use words like 'hey' and 'presto',
Trying to make their promises true.

A promise from us is no idle chat.
But read the fineprint - it's there in the text.
A promise is a promise on the premise that.
You know what it is and what will happen next.

We're prepared to promise the things
We can't possibly know if they'll happen at all.
But assume that they're on until the phone rings
To say we've gone bust or the horse had a fall.

Others will promise the stars and the moon.
We won't promise space; not even a hint.
Just remember the good times here soon.
But we may have to mug you - read the fineprint.

To the Birds.

He sits on his own,
On his own, on his own.
He talks to the birds,
To the birds.

He waits for a call
From the bank about a loan.
He tells the birds about it
Using words.

He walks across the floor,
To and fro, wall to wall,
In the dining hall
Of his hotel.

He waits for someone to call
And ring the bell in the hall.
But no one ever calls
And there's no bell.

He has a staff of three.
For them he has to care.
If he doesn't get some callers
He'll have none.

And just to avoid confusion
They're all called Clare.
And to cut down on expenses
They're all one.

He wonders what to do,
What to do, what to do,
About the empty rooms
In his hotel.

He knows he needs to do
Something new, something new.
He hasn't done anything new
Since buying the bell.

"I think I have an idea,"
Clare says to her boss,
"Why not put a sign
Outside the gate."

Clare wearing glasses and
A wig that looks like moss
Says, "I think Clare is right.
You need a bait."

He says, "What do ye think
About a sign over there?"
He's talking to the birds
That he just met.

Clare with a fake beard
Agrees with Clare and Clare.
But the birds haven't decided
As of yet.

The Photo.

My funds are quite low and cash I do owe.
The word 'ow' comes to mind - ow as in cow.
I say 'cash' and not 'dough', though they do say 'dough'.
And they are the people who'll make me say 'ow'.

And 'they' are my kids, Barbara and Bob.
These little persons rehearse how to con me.
They're certainly worse than the worst of the mob.
They look so smug when they've got something on me.

They know lots of things they know I don't know.
Their IQs are high and their heads are still swelling.
They read lots of books and make me look slow.
I'm going to lose money while sharing this dwelling.

Their education has cost me a fortune in cash,
From all their extortion attempts and their scams.
Their stash is expanding and making them brash.
They've been making money since they were in prams.

A Polaroid camera was first on the list
That they posted to Santa sometime in November.
I assumed that Santa would somehow have missed
That very first thing, but he chose to remember.

I found their latest demand in a note,
Stuck with a pin to the kitchen door's panel,
And a photo of me with the TV remote,
Trying to change the microwave's channel.

This was last week when some people came 'round
To say hello. They stayed for a drink.
It was late when I thought the TV I'd found.
And I think I put some mince pies in the sink.

I once tried to profit from their intelligence,
On 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire'.
I don't know a lot but I have common sense.
When I was on I made sure they were there.

A cough from the kids would tell me the answer.
The first one was easy; the name of a song.
People might say I'm a bit of a chancer.
But thanks to the kids I got that one wrong.

They knew the right one, and so did I.
I thought they'd help me, as my next of kin.
But they made me fail and when I asked why,
They said common sense says I just couldn't win.

They said if I'd won, who would believe it?
Instead of their help they hindered my plan.
I destroyed the tape but they managed to retreive it.
I pay them not to play it and so does their Gran.

The cash or the dough I need to find now.
Turn slush to snow or metal to gold.
Pity and mercy they'll never allow.
These little persons are being quite bold.

Miles to Kilometers

I drove into town on a narrow road down
A hill lined with hedgerows and trees.
With a tractor in front, and a horse from a hunt
In a field walking past me with ease.

Moving at snail's pace with water in ale's place.
I might as well walk and drink more.
I parked in a lay-by and hoped it would stay dry.
It wasn't a raincoat I wore.

I walked by the tractor. The hill was a factor.
The slope made it easy to walk.
The driver looked out, said hello with a shout.
The noise made it harder to talk.

I mentioned his speed and asked why the need
To travel so slowly out here.
He cursed the speed limit. He said that to him it
Seems like he's been here all year.

As slow as the ditch; he blamed the switch
To kilometers per hour from miles.
Sixty was fast but now he'd be passed
By brides walking down church aisles.

They rounded it down all over the town
And the limit for here is now five.
My maths isn't great but I thought I'd be late
For work every day if I drive.

A five mile round trip. At sixty a mere skip.
In kilometers the distance is eight.
But the limit is less. It's just a rough guess,
At five I might get to my gate.

I pointed this out and he said with a shout,
"The Council again are to blame.
"You can go for your coat when they sit down to vote.
The outcome is always the same.

"They argue and fight for most of the night.
But they might as well vote straightaway.
"It goes with the will of one party but still,
They're big into having their say.

"In the press it was noted the time that they voted
On where to locate a new school.
"With a prospect of fights, a choice of two sites.
One near the old swimming pool.

"And one near the lake where the herons look fake,
But flora and fauna still thrive.
"They argued and fought but it all came to nought.
They voted in favour of five.

"In Chambers and hallways the main party always
Put their weight behind five in debate.
"It's greater than none, an improvement on one,
But it's not as ambitious as eight.

"So when someone objected to someone elected
That the speed limit here was too high.
"They argued again but we knew who would win.
And it takes half an hour to pass by."

I said to him then would he risk doing ten,
Even for just half a mile.
"It's not worth the risk. Look at the disk.
This hasn't been taxed in a while"

Goodbyes were said and I walked on ahead.
But I thought about slowing my pace.
If I saw a speed gun at least I could run
Through fields and let them give chase.

Little Goldfish.

One little goldfish in his very little sea.
Let's call this little goldfish number two.
I don't know his name and neither does he.
He said to the other 'how d'ye do?'

The other, number one, raised his head and said,
"Have you ever seen The Scream by Edvard Munch?"
Number two said he had, then he turned his little head
To watch a piece of food as it sunk.

That wasn't really truthful; he decided to pretend
That he'd seen the painting once or twice before.
But he's never really seen it and neither has has friend.
On the subject of The Scream they said no more.

Two tried to think of something other than The Scream
To talk about before he goes to bed.
The best he could do was 'do you like ice cream?'
So he stared ahead in silence instead.

One little goldfish in his very little sea.
Let's call this goldfish number two.
I don't know his name and neither does he.
He said to the other 'who are you?'

By the Sea.

We'll go by bus and stay all day.
You and I down by the sea.
Or is it 'you and me' I should say?
For you and I it's 'you and me'.

The birds are flying way up high.
The sea is where the sea should be,
Sitting there beneath the sky,
Reflecting blue and bringing glee.

You and me on golden sand.
Two dots beneath the blue above.
Sitting either side of 'and',
On seaside sand immersed in love.

"Look at the horse," she says to me.
"No, my dear. That's a post box."
"It's a bleeping horse you blanking B."
I love her voice and golden locks,

But I'm afraid I must insist
That that's a box for posting things.
And not a horse, unless I missed
A bushy tail or pigs with wings.

For honesty I'll always thank her.
She says some bleeping blanking words.
"You bleeping blinking pretentious blanker.
"You're worse than blanking bleep from birds."

Excuse me for a while or two.

I was right about the post box.
In silence now beneath the blue.
On the bus by sea and rocks.

Stacey and Kevin.

Stacey likes Kevin. "His name sounds like heaven."
That's what she said to his friends.
And made his life hell. She showed them as well
Some of the texts that he sends.

He used to word 'bunny'. His friends think it's funny.
He also used 'wabbit' and 'care'.
In another he told her that he'd like to hold her,
And tell her she's better than air.

He calls her his petal. He loves his death metal.
But he loves Stacey more than those bands.
Under blue sky or grey, they meet every day.
She's always just near where he stands.

In a text he once said that all over his head,
Her voice drowned the sound of the songs.
His brain and his feet can't wait till they meet,
And that's where his heart now belongs.

With his friends in the park as it starts to get dark.
Stacey will keep him awake.
His friends hold back laughter for three minutes after
She says he's as sweet as sweet cake.

With skateboard in hand, just by the band stand.
An idea in his head that seems rash.
He'll skate at full pace, then jump with such grace,
And land on the stand or else crash.

With skateboard on path he tells his friends that
He's going to do something thick.
He stands on his shoe lace and falls on his poor face
As he set off on his trick.

He stares at the ground, not hearing a sound.
No one is ready to speak.
Not quite like James Bond. A duck from the pond
Pecks at his head with its beak.

He gets to his feet from his cold concrete seat.
His friends are surprised he can stand.
No longer floored, he picks up his board,
And says, "That went exactly as planned."

His friends all nod at their new earthly God.
Some want to kneel down or bow.
Stacey says 'honey' and 'brave little bunny',
But nobody laughs at him now.

Call around for tea.

Alice and Barry, leave the house at four.
Visiting the relatives, Jimmy and May.
Parking in the driveway, knocking on the door.
I haven't seen you since your Auntie Flora went away.

"Yes we're here to say hello and to wish you all the well,
"So hello we'll say and then we'll go.
"Getting ready with the H and then the E, the double L,
"And yes we'd love a cup of tea before the O."

May brings the tea and cake on a plastic tray.
"I nearly lost my old jug - dropped it on the floory.
"Have a slice of cake; I baked it yesterday,
"And I broke a tooth today - different story."

"Will ye have another cup?"
"Just a little drop."
"Take another biscuit;
"Tell me when to stop.

"And how is so-and-so since her little fall?
"So-and-so's a so-and-so who thinks he owns the place.
"Have ye heard Jimmy's news? It'll drive me up the wall.
"He's going to be the very first Irish man in space.

"He's currently in training. They really test his wits.
"They sent him to an AA meeting; wouldn't be my thing.
"Then he had the course to ease the hatred of the Brits.
"Bloody Nasa; they forgot about the fighting."

"Well done Jimmy. Best of luck with that."
Jimmy nods his head and says, "They say it's quite a thrill."
"It's time to head for home. Did I bring a hat?
"I love the flowers in the vase on the windowsill.

"Ye must call over.
"We'll tidy up the place.
"Thank you for the tea.
"Best of luck in space."

One Friday night.

Alice would like to meet someone
Who's not too old or mad.
When she came home from work one day
She read this personal ad:

Single jangle jewellery
With chewing gum and hat on head,
But neither hat nor head on right.
Mostly living, partly dead.

Seeking thing with legs and things
And nothing much above.
Needs to have an open mind
And narrow view of 'love'.

"He sounds good," Alice said.
Her sister read the ad.
She had her doubts about this man
But he couldn't be too bad.

So they met up one Friday night.
A few drinks in a bar.
And then a walk as daylight left,
Beneath a single star.

They sat down on a bench and watched
The red lights of a plane.
Then he produced two glasses and
A bottle of champagne.

And on the label an image of
A man in a funeral home.
"That looks good," Alice said.
The glass filled up with foam.

"It's a very good year," he said to her.
"From somewhere in the south."
He saw a squirrel beneath a tree;
A small twig in its mouth.

He said hello and asked the squirrel
If his tail could brush or mop.
And: "Do you think you're Kojak
With your little lollipop?"

Alice stood up and backed away.
Tears welled in her eyes.
"I have to go." She turned and ran.
There were two brief goodbyes.

She went straight to her sister's place.
In floods of tears she said,
"He asked a squirrel if he was Kojak."
Her sister shook her head.

She said to Alice that time would heal,
And from this mess she'd climb.
She wanted to say, "I told you so."
But now is not the time.

Fog.

Andy stares up at the sky,
In the park on the grass near a dog.
The clouds do things way up high
That they do down here as fog.

And they do those things in Andy's mind,
In the micro-climate in his head.
A can in his hand. If he looks he'll find
Another eight in the bag with the bread.

For over half an hour he's been
Standing there but nothing's really wrong.
He tries to think of the difference between
A divan and a chaise longue.

Andy looks down. His foot's on fire.
He looks at the sky. Still no rain.
He stares at a bird on a telephone wire,
And tries to think through the fog in his brain.

But he doesn't have to phone a friend.
He finally says, "Now I know.
"A chaise longue has a back at one end
"And a divan is just low."

"That's just the pain-killers talking,"
So says the nurse by his bed.
For a week or two he won't be walking,
But he'll still get lost in his head.

In a Tree.

Born in nineteen eighty fighty.
A whole week in, a night out now.
A witty anecdote, maybe, might be.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ow!

A glass of wine or something stronger,
Something bought in a hardware store.
"A glass a day and you'll live longer."
Discussing this, ow ow floor.

Out in the air and climb a tree,
And wonder why he did that then.
Afraid of heights and cats is he.
Stuck with a key and a fountain pen.

Yes stuck in a tree. Now what to do?
Think think think, don't have all night.
Think 'what' not when nor where nor who.
Punch the tree. Why yes, that's right.

"Did you just say 'why yes, that's right'?"
So says someone down on the ground.
He swings a punch in the black of the night.
His friends hear a falling-from-a-tree-now sound.

That worked well. His head feels light.
Punching never fails, he's always said.
"Now who said I said 'thing that's right',
"So I can punch you in the head."

"You said that, not us to you."
"Perhaps that's true," he says out loud.
"You just said 'perhaps that's true',"
So says someone in the crowd.

"Who said that? Don't take all day.
"We'd have all night in warmer climes.
"So please step forward without delay.
"And I'll punch you many, many times."

Ant.

Walking down a moonlit path.
Saying things and more things that
Amount to a simple word or two,
Or three if one of them is 'you'.

And one is 'I', or so it should be.
Having trouble talking, he.
For the past few months he's lived in song,
His iPod playing all day long.

Without the headphones in his head,
The only words he ever said
Were, "It can hold five thousand songs."
It's in his pocket, where it belongs.

He can't quite say the words right now.
He knows he really should know how.
She says it's such a lovely night.
"I love this place when it's so quiet."

It's quieter now. He tries to find
The right response within his mind.
He sees an insect on the ground.
"Ant," he says, or some such sound.

"They can hold five thousand things."
This 'ant' has very moth-like wings.
Their eyes are locked. He looks away.
He's said all he has to say.

A Trip to Mars.

Sitting at a piano,
Play a simple tune.
Sing a simple song about
The stars and the moon.

And then a little trip to Mars
To say hello to the locals.
Friendly little Martian
Smiling country yokels.

Out for the day from
Their hole in the ground.
Visiting the big hole,
Leave the cow they 'found'.

"I really like the holes
And the complete lack of air.
"And those reddish-looking rocks
That are almost everywhere."

They point towards a distant hill
Where they have just found ice.
I listen then as one of them does
His Robert Mitchum voice.

I say it's very good,
Then one of them says to me,
"Why did you bet a couple of grand
On a horse with a war injury?"

"Y' see," I say, and wonder how
I'll explain to them this case.
Poor dim Martian yokels
Staring into space.

I say I have to go now.
"But I really enjoyed my stay.
"The next time I come here to visit,
I'll definitely spend a whole day."

Marrying for a summer house
in Athlone.

She said she has a summer house in Athlone.
I don't know if that's false or if that's true.
But there's one thing I do know,
I'll say 'I do' if it's so.
But she'll never hear a sincere 'I love you'.

I'll say it once or twice
In my 'I don't love you' voice.
I'll save my 'I love you' voice for the view.

Meeting in a Café.

She sat by the window
With tears in her eyes.
Matt wondered why all
The frowns and the sighs.

He said, "Can I help you?
Is anything wrong?"
She showed him her arm,
A tattoo that said 'King Kong'.

He saw something wrong with that.
"What's wrong with that?"
The tears flowed again.
She pulled down her hat.

She looked at her arm,
Said her name was Anne.
And the tattoo was supposed to say
'Get well soon Gran'.

But the artist was distracted
By a mouse eating bread.
"It's a very big mouse."
That's what he said.

Matt looked concerned,
And then a growing grin.
He said, "You could save it with
A few words added in.

"'is a very big gorilla'
Added on to 'King Kong'.
"It wouldn't cost very much
And it's not all that long."

Her tears began to dry
And a faint smile appeared.
Sunshine broke through
And all the clouds cleared.

"Thank you so much," she said.
"Won't you sit down?"
Two broader smiles you won't
Find in this town.

Restoring a Mansion.

They bought an old mansion without any doors,
Or windows or roofs, a slight lack of floors.
It hasn't been lived in for eighty odd years.
Even the ad said it needed repairs.

But they've nearly restored its original look.
Two centuries old; they read in a book
About the original galleried hall,
With heads of deer and guns on the wall.

They don't support hunting. They bought the deer heads
From the same man who sold them the four-poster beds.
He said all the deer died a natural death,
And he's had this confirmed by a very good vet.

With their young daughter, both their breaths bated,
They asked how she'd like her room decorated.
Her answer came quickly. She smiled at them too.
Just two simple words: 'Scooby' and 'Doo'.

Her mother said, "Sweetie, we love Scooby's face.
"But we've spent twenty million restoring this place,
"Just to make sure that it looks like the way
"It looked years ago on its very first day."

She smiled and they felt that she'd add to their cares.
She said, "What about the jacuzi upstairs?"
"The jacuzi was invented in 1784.
"It's an original feature we have to restore."

She just stared back. They felt that they'd failed.
She said, "Scooby Doo." The boat had now sailed.
They had hoped she'd choose a red taffeta curtain.
She won't want it now; that's almost certain.

A Bar on Saturday Night.

When she looked right in my eye
And said, "Do I know you?"
I said well now she looked just like
A girl my brother knew.

"Did your brother steal my car," She said,
"Just because I mocked his hat."
I smiled and said, "That's him alright,
"He's always doing that."

So she kneed me in the groin.
And left me on the floor.
"Kindly pass that on," she said.
And waved 'bye at the door.

I can't let down a lady.
That's just what I believe.
But I'm sure as hell not doing
Such a girlie thing to Steve.

I'll have a word with his new girlfriend.
He loves the ground below her.
I'll say he's only going out with her
For a bet to win an old lawn mower.

And I know she will believe it.
Last week he bet his friend
That he couldn't eat a turtle
Without meeting then his end.

Grandmaster Ted.

A game of chess. A very big crowd to see
The two best players in the land.
One player or the other is very soon to be
The very best and about to win a grand.

Or maybe not soon. Or no time soon at all.
It's hard to see a winner from here.
Joe stands up and looks towards the wall.
Ted is leaning back in his chair.

The clock ticks on and the tension starts to rise.
The players try to focus on the play.
Some members of the audience have to close their eyes.
They've been watching people sit or stand all day.

Ted breaks the silence, and wakes his younger brother.
When he points towards the board and says to Joe,
"Why don't we let them jump over each other?"
The idea doesn't get an immediate no.

He isn't sure at first, but Ted says then,
"It's how I beat Kasparov before."
So Joe says yes and he takes his seat again.
They won't be here for many minutes more.

It's Ted's move next and without a lot of thinking,
He picks up his one remaining rook.
He jumps over a knight and kicks over the king,
Just three or four seconds it took.

"I can't believe you fell for that," Ted says to Joe.
Joe shakes his head from side to side.
The crowd cheer Ted and then very quickly go.
Joe wants to find a place to hide.

A Little Brown Mouse.

A little brown mouse in a dark grey suit,
New shoes and a bright red tie.
Only yesterday he was swimming in a boot.
His mother wonders where is her boy.

"Why the suit and tie?" she says to her son.
"And why are you drinking gin and tonic?"
"Some people say that my talents amount to none,
But I've been asked to play with the Berlin Philharmonic."

He shows her the letter. She reads in their dim lighting.
But she says to herself before too long,
"That looks just like the cat's handwriting."
Something here is very surely wrong.

She looks at her son, so excited with his news.
She wonders if he's right in the head.
And is it really wise to express her views?
Or should she just humour him instead?

She says, "I'm sure that you're going to be a hit,
And your brothers have also got their break.
"Billy just discovered that the wire that he bit
Was in a cupboard full of sugar and cake."

His eyes light up and he slowly backs away.
He's starting to remove his suit and tie.
"I might put the music off for another day."
He runs and says a very quick goodbye.

Meeting Friends.

I met them at the gate post.
They said they were engaged.
I asked who stood to lose most
If they died before they're aged.

She pretended to be angry.
And he kicked me on the knee.
I said I'm very sorry
And respectful I would be.

I slowly got up from the ground.
I asked how did he fare
In his two-grand bet on a greyhound
Called 'I fell off a chair'.

He tried to change the subject.
She kicked him on the knee.
I feared their plans could be wrecked,
And all because of me.

I said, "Like birds or ants or bees
"Ye've got so much to share."
Like kicking people's knees.
But I didn't say that there.

She said, "I'm sorry sweetie."
And he said sorry too.
She called him Warren Beatty,
And he said 'I love you'.

I wished someone would kick me
Or I could kick some thing.
Then came the two-hour story
Of her engagement ring.

The Song.

He saw her in the corner
At a table with her friend.
He felt his years of searching
Had come to this fine end.

He'd seen her in his dreams
Very many times before.
She left him with a dizzy head
And a need to get to know her.

He drank his drink and stood up,
And held on to his chair.
He took a few steps to the jukebox
And ran a hand through his hair.

He put a coin in, pressed a button.
He tried to clear his head.
He went to her and stood there,
Looked at her and said,

"Please don't tell me where to go
Unless you'll go there with me.
"I'd like to get to know you.
Knowledge makes me happy."

Just as she was going to give
Her answer to his plea.
She listened to the song he chose,
And just then so did he.

He thought he'd pressed the button
For his favourite Garth Brooks song.
But this for sure was not 'The Dance'.
He must have got it wrong.

The song was about a fight between
A monkey and a squirrel in a tree.
The monkey had lost his stapler.
He thought he knew where it could be.

He was ninety-nine percent sure
In accusing the squirrel of theft.
The squirrel hit the monkey with a branch
After saying, "Look to your left."

They listened to the song in silence.
He just didn't know what to say.
And neither did she at the end of the song
But then she smiled and said 'okay'.

Noah's Friend.

When Noah build his famous ark
He knew a man now passed away.
As has Mr. Noah now,
It's very sad to say.

But this was long before today
When they had things to do,
Like rounding up the animals
For Noah's floating zoo.

This man who Mr. Noah knew,
So many years ago,
Helped his friend to build the ark
When the water was still low.

Not so much a friend at all,
As just a man he met,
When Noah started working late
In fear of getting wet.

He bought the wood to build the boat,
The flooding he would flout.
This man appeared and said he feared
The project was in doubt.

"The Planning process takes too long
And maybe they'll reject
"Your plan to float the animals
And then we'll all be fecked.

"Flouting, floating boating things
Can take ten years or more.
"And if you build without their say
They'll knock it to the floor.

"I can help you out with that.
I'll move the thing along.
"A word in someone's ear from me.
I'll do it for a song."

An expensive song, but Noah paid.
He didn't need delays.
Before too long the shore would rise
And valleys would be bays.

But then his friend, this man again,
Noticed something wrong.
He pointed out to Noah that
The ark was much too long.

The ark was on the neighbour's land.
He said he represents
The company who owns the field
Just beyond the fence.

Noah couldn't see a fence,
And this man didn't know
Who was in the company
Or where the cash would go.

But Noah paid the money.
He couldn't take a chance.
His friend walked down the hill again
And did a little dance.

Two days passed before this man
Came back to Noah's ark.
He said, "I've heard of plots and plans
Of which you're in the dark.

"The cows have their own rival plan,
An ark and concert hall.
"But I can get the cows to back
Your plan to float them all.

"And they've been spreading rumours
About safety on your site.
"They say at least two Eskimos died
And you tried to keep this quiet.

"Ten percent of what you earn
Is all I ask as pay."
Noah knew he'd make no cash.
That's why he said okay.

All of nature's animals
Were heading for the ark.
Noah met this man again.
The skies were getting dark.

He said he had to lodge some cash
In his bank account
On a small Pacific island,
Miles from this great mount.

He asked if he and his fine wife
Could travel there with Noah.
Noah let them share a room
With a man called Mr. Boa.

But it wasn't such a pleasant trip.
He nearly killed a bee.
So Noah stopped and let them off
At an island in the sea.

Rover.

The dog's third birthday was yesterday.
He tried to eat his party hat.
We bought a ball for him to play.
He got a birthday card from the cat.

The card just contained the following line:
"Do you know what a rawlplug is?"
The cat seemed content with a ball of twine,
And sleeping all night in a hat that's not his.

So we were surprised by his question for Rover.
I held a rawlplug in front of the dog,
And said the word 'rawlplug' over and over.
Rover remained as still as a log.

He sent a 'thank you' card to the cat,
With just one word written in ink.
'No', it said, and that was that.
I shook my head and started to think

That Rover might not be so clever at all.
The ball hits his head when I throw it to him.
When I tell him to sit he'll normally fall.
The bulb in his brain at its brightest is dim.

Two Lambs.

Two little lambs on an old wooden pier.
They stepped into a small row boat.
One bit through the rope without an ounce of fear.
Down the flowing river they float.

The other lamb said, "Why did you cut the rope?
"I've a feeling there's a waterfall nearby."
"It may look now as if we'll sink without a hope.
"But Superman will save us from the sky."

"Superman is fictional," the other lamb said.
And in his voice a tiny trace of fright.
The little lamb thought in his little fluffy head:
"That would make a lot of sense alright."

But he said to his friend, "He's as real as me or you.
"He wears thick glasses in disguise.
"He sells sheep dip and his Transit van is blue.
"He's always looking around with his eyes."

"Oh him," the lamb said. "I know the man you mean."
He looked up at the sky with a smile.
But not little friend; a flaw in his plan he'd seen
The river hurried on all the while.

In the Garden.

Sit in the sun on the grass in the shade
Of a tree by the old red brick wall.
Read the newspaper and drink lemonade.
Or watch as the kids play football.

The dog starts to bark at the tree once again,
But the tree shows no worry or care.
The ants in the grass look on and then
They laugh at the dog so he'll hear.

Their laughter stops when they hear the sound
Of an ice cream van just down the street.
They run to the gate for the ice cream man's round,
But they stop and look down at their feet.

The sound is really from little Louise
Hitting an old metal bucket
With a shovel she found when she ran from the bees,
Left by the hedge so she took it.

The dog starts to laugh at the two little ants,
A long and deliberate laugh.
He rolls on the grass and breaks into dance.
The ants are regretting their gaff.

I got up and walked from this calm shady place.
I stood on a rake by the wall.
The handle flew up into my sunburnt face,
But that wasn't funny at all.

I don't know.

An evening garden party.
  A chance to meet and drink.
And a clear blue evening sky
  Above us all.
Yes I'm fairly sure we've brandy.
  There are glasses by the sink.
And a barrell of something sinister
  By the wall.

There's a man away from Milly.
  "That Milly'd drive you mad."
There's a man with Milly.
  "Oh how Milly's fun."
These two are the same man,
  Unless we've all been had.
Or to put it slightly differently
  There's just one.

They walk around the garden
  As the stars come out above,
While other people
  Look into a box.
They stop and talk in moonlight
  With all the look of love.
He's staring at the rockery
  And its rocks.

Milly says to him,
  "What type of tree is that?"
"I don't know, Milly,"
  Is all he can say.
"Is that fish staring at me?"
  She says and lifts her hat.
"I don't know," he says
  And gets away.

There's a man away from Milly.
  "God I need a drink."
And there's a man with Milly.
  "Milly I really like you."
And this is not the man
  Pouring something by the sink.
Or to put it another way,
  There's now two.

The man now pouring something
  Sees his Milly with that man.
He drinks what he's just poured
  And he goes outside to be
With his darling Milly.
  He says without a plan,
"Will you Milly marry?
  Will Milly marry me?"

A 'yes' from dearest Milly.
  A smile lights up her eyes.
A happy scene with music
  From the birds
"Why's that mouse on your head?"
  She says and then he sighs.
"I don't know, Milly,"
  Are his words.

Uncle Peter.

Off to visit Uncle Peter,
Never less than entertaining.
Measures drinks out by the litre.
Adds in extra when it's raining.

Hello there, how are you?
Not too bad, come on in.
Love the carpet. Yes it's new.
The old one's sitting by the bin.

A plate of cakes and a cup of tea,
And a 'no sign yet' of drink.
Wondering where his glass could be.
An 'and you'll miss it' blink.

"Why the lack of alcohol?"
I said eventually.
"Why no drop of drink at all.
"Just little cakes and tea."

He sighed and told his story,
Some details I have missed.
Never one to bore me,
But this is just the gist:

Sitting by the fireplace,
Fire fire fire.
No one there to share it with,
Foreign maid hire.

Tell her where the bath is,
Show her how to use it.
Wrap around a towel,
Damn I always lose it.

Now she's more than just a maid,
Though she helps him make his bed,
For which she's still well paid,
And she occupies his head.

But she's into health and fitness,
Always on the go.
She'll never find a witness;
No one now will know

If he had a little whiskey,
Something very small.
But he said it's just too risky.
Anyone could call.

There's a daily quota now
For drink but not for bread.
He drank as much as she'll allow
To help him out of bed.

I said, "But surely not the wine.
"That's barely alcoholic.
"Wine in kids of eight or nine
"Will make them run and frolic.

"And gin is just a woman's drink,
"Forgotten in a minute.
"And vodka too," I stopped to wink,
"If you put an umbrella in it."

He soon was back to his old high.
He poured more than enough.
He said, "It's down to you, my boy,
"To house the stronger stuff."

A tear of joy rolled down my face.
For him a look of craving.
He opened up a wooden case
Of whiskey he'd been saving.

When she came home she saw him with
A glass like an upturned bell.
With a small umbrella perched in it
And a long red rose as well.

She asked about the drink he had.
"What this, a drink?" he said to her.
He laughed as if that sounded mad
And the rest is just a happy blur.

The Fall.

Humpty Dumpty tripped on his laces.
He fell down some steps to a concrete path then.
All the king's men had gone to the races.
And all the king's horses were off with the men.

Frank came along and said to him,
"Do you need some help? It looks like you fell."
"I'm grand," he said, and with one working limb,
He waved to Frank and smiled as well.

Frank then said, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine down here, but thanks all the same."
Frank looked around at where Humpty's bits lay,
And thought at the least he'd surely be lame.

Frank said, "What if I put this bit here?"
He moved an arm lower towards a loose hand.
Humpty said, "Perfect. That's much better there."
But it didn't seem likely that Humpty would stand.

Frank looked on with a frown on his face.
The face on the ground looked very content.
Pieces were lying all over the place.
And on his poor head a sizable dent.

"Are you sure you're okay," Frank said once more.
"I couldn't be better. Thanks ever so much."
Frank said that surely he must be quite sore,
But he said he'd get home without even a crutch.

They said their goodbyes and Frank walked away.
He stopped and looked back at a very wide grin.
He tried to think of something to say.
They waved goodbye and he walked on again.

Summer.

Stay in the shade when the sky is still blue.
Out in the red when the blue fades away.
Be in the black with the stars and the dew
Rest your head at the end of the day.

All of the plans I had in my head,
I wrote on my hand to leave nothing but air
Above in my brain as I fall into bed,
Things for tomorrow, which now is quite near.

The plans involve Jane and wondering how
The fridge in the kitchen exploded last week.
Things I didn't have time for till now.
But I'll do them tomorrow, answers I'll seek.

Wake up after nine.
Then again in afternoon.
Outside it's very fine.
Leave the pub sometime soon.

Three hours talking to a goat about a fox.
"He somehow stole my glasses. I left them on my head."
And then another hour or two staring at a box.
Until it's after midnight; time to go to bed.

Look at the hand; damn I forgot.
Supposed to meet Jane; she'll make my life hell.
I still don't know why my fridge is now not.
I'll find out tomorrow and meet Jane as well.

Write it on the hand.
Meet her on a boat.
Or maybe see a band.
Blame that bloody goat.