Sunday, 7 September 2014

Mr. Chaos

What’s the trouble with Mr. Chaos?
He is a cold, doomed man 
in need of a miracle.
Most men everywhere feel betrayed 
by the witty and sexy Miss World,
and yet we’re still waiting 
for heroes of iron to save Paradise.
This small town is dazzled 
by the final days of violence.

Thursday, 12 June 2014

An Artist In Space

My young friend, the creative and talented Louis, gave me a list of words to write into a poem. His words are in bold and this poem is for him...

An Artist In Space

Wrapped in my space suit,
I am a Panda Picasso,
trying to sketch planet earth with my pencil.
So far, I'm doing a pretty good job.

Things look different up here than they do on the map:
Indonesia is a small bird bathing in the sea.
Italy doesn't look like a boot when it's upside down;
it is more like an alligator opening its great jaw.
Scandinavia is a piece of cheese on a fork.

That's pretty funny, I think,
and when I laugh,
my breath rushes past my ears
like a red tiger's roar.

There is no room for a lunchbox up here.
Instead I suck on sugar cubes
like a horse after a race.

Sometimes the whole of space
looks at me and twinkles a question:

- as if I have the answer,
as if I represent all the people who ever lived
and can reply for us all.

Apart from the sugar cubes, and my pencil,
the only things I carry with me are words.
Weightless, unaffected by gravity, and very satisfying,
I nibble on them whenever I'm hungry.

My favourite one today is "flabbergasted".
And so I sing it out into space -
- an answer to the question,
with a million tiny answers inside it
like stars packed into the galaxy's pocket.

Wednesday, 11 June 2014

Lottie Loves Cake

My young friend, the magical and creative Lottie, gave me a list of words to write into a poem. Her words are the colours of the rainbow and this poem is for her...


Lottie loves cake.
She loves it so much that she eats it all day long.
For breakfast she eats Moon Cake,
silver and round and full of the wonders of her dreams.
For lunch she eats Sky Cake,
big and wide as the clear blue sky,
with puffy clouds of icing on top
and a bird or two for decoration.
For dinner she eats Jungle Cake,
a very exciting cake,
covered with great leafy plants and bright pink flowers.
It is also a very noisy cake
with tigers growling and parrots squawking.

When her friend, Matilda, comes over for tea,
they play the viola and sing songs about cake
such as "every cloud has some silver icing"
and "there was an old woman who lived in a scone".
They eat Rose Cake together and paint their nails the colour of Roses.
Sometimes, they magic the cake into a real rose.
Then Felix, the dog, runs around in circles 
trying to catch the rose with his nose, it smells so good.
Barack, the cat, sits like an emperor, 
calm and majestic, and sips milk from a golden bowl.
Lottie asks her brother, Louis, if he would like a piece of Rose Cake
but he prefers to run around chasing Felix
and, anyway, Louis loves ice cream.

Friday, 30 May 2014

The Mosquito

While I munch 
my sensible snack
of carrot sticks 
and cheese,
the ambassador of hunger
sucks what he craves
from my hot blood.

Tuesday, 20 May 2014

Cigarette Break

He leans against the trunk of the winter tree,
holds his cigarette like a Tibetan horn,
and trumpets his breath into the frozen air.
His old life burns, becomes ash,
becomes the snow at his feet.
He is readying himself to return
to the world of buildings and cars
and, most of all, to the world of people,
with their red faces and their smiling eyes.

Sunday, 18 May 2014

Folding The Twilight

Hands circling,
gathering the ancient air,
my mother folds the twilight
into night.

Saturday, 17 May 2014

Village Rain

There is no rain,
my grandpa said,
like the rain in my village.
It made diamonds out of cobblestones
and turned the rooftops silver.