a little plug (number 15); https://blog.feedspot.com/poetry_blogs/ *first three lines of every verse are from my primary school reports. John has worked well throughout the yearAlthough he tends to dream at times.Often puzzled by new ideas,His poems, occasionally, lack acceptable rhymes. He is beginning to come out of his shellAnd this is mirrored by his general …
Author Archives: aprettykettleofpoetry
Breaking News
People are gate-crashingthe politicians’ world partycracking open crates of aleand raiding refineries for gallons of oil. No one knows what fate awaitsthe fleeing President of the Big United Matesbut it is believed, doing a bunk,he may be in a bunker. Ordinary people, in so many words,have told leaders they’re a bunch of nerds.No one knows …
For Margaret
No-one has time to grieve.Not even the bereaved.The cortege, heavily, low-gears the slopeBut it’s all to quick for the followers to cope.- Your death came as one of those shocks.It will always be the hardest of knocks.Your funeral on that sunshiny dayWas out the blue. Take care on your way. You were there as you …
Edgy Town
Round the corner there may be someone or somethingwith your life in its slingand something in for you.Keep still, and only move if you have to. Along a road a wall is highand behind it danger may lie.
Foreign Language Birds
A pigeon at the foreign languages facultygoes to seagull classes out to sea.As Flamingoes chip away for their exam in ‘Woodpecker up a Tree’An exchange English crow gets French sparrow tutorials on the streets of gay Paris. Greenfinches studying ‘Parrot’ do their bestas kingfishers get hooked on ‘Gold-crest’.As model eagle students soar above the rest.Mallard …
St. Lucifer St.
She met him and he met heron a street called saint lucifer.But what they did wasn’t wicked;just a pot of tea and the odd dunked biscuit. Both would flirt with riskless dangerwith childish dreams away in a manger.She was hitched and so was he.Both would talk of being free. Neither of their partners knewthat every …
Character Assassination
You can’t even see eye to eyeWith yourself in your own mirror.You don’t say goodbyeTill there’s nobody left to hear. Every record you have jumps.Can’t stutter without an impediment.As a child missed out on mumps.Paid a mortgage in rent. Can’t remember names on christenings.Every bill you get is wrong.Can’t concentrate without listening.Can’t sit down to …
walking through doors
locked padlockedchairs pushed to themcartoon characters nailing them upgot the only key to them u can’t keep them outu can’t keep them inthey’re all laughing at youand u think you’re safe as houses i don’t know about youbut i’m shitting myselfhave you ever really looked closely at doors before?understood them at all?
ever the optimist
There used to be balloons.Rotating girls in revolving skirts to spiralling tunes.There were stain glass windows in kaleidoscopes.Climbing acrobats and daisy chain ropes. There used to be rivers of streets running to the city’s gaping mouthand compass boats blown like ticker tape south.There were jugglers and minstrels and jukebox sky-scraping towers.There used to be heart-beds …
doesn’t get much simpler
What are they doing?They’re so busyAnd I sleep sleep sleepAnd I dream dream dream. Now they’re doing nothing.They’re so still.And I sleep sleep sleepAnd I dream dream dream. I wag my tail here.I want to stay.And I sleep sleep sleepAnd I dream dream dream.
A Pretty Kettle of Poetry 