Poetry - September 2009

I Blame Mr Kipling

As a child I ate many of his cakes
Including what he called a Cherry Bakewell
Some icing on the top with the cherry
And everything just really felt so well
But of course it's not a real bakewell tart
To Derbyshire you really need to go
And sample the proper tarts and puddings
That are so fine when savoured on the go
The pudding has that lovely texture
With the jam underneath to the taste
And no sign of any icing whatsoever
That really seems like it's put to waste
I blame Mr Kipling for the illusion
He's putting on many a child everywhere
Thinking that his cakes are fit to have the name
Bakewell, but he shouldn't really dare.

(If you ever go to Bakewell in the county of Derbyshire and have a proper Bakewell tart or pudding, you'll know that those Mr Kipling's Cherry Bakewells are just impostors in disguise..)

First Lap Madness

It was a Summer's day back in '98
As I settled down in front of the box
To see the Belgian Grand Prix at Spa
And it was really going to rock my socks off
The first corner looked hairy in the rain
And then all chaos started to begin
From the moment Coulthard spun across the track
The cars started to pile on in
Thirty seconds later it was carnage
The run down to Eau Rouge full of parts everywhere
You knew that it was a miracle no deaths occurred
And that the tension was so much to bear
Who would have the spare car if they had one
And what would happen on the restart?
Little knew Michael Schumacher would not finish
And look for Coulthard with anger in his heart
But I think back of that first lap of madness
And it makes you realise how tricky F1 can be
When so many aim for so little a space
That will end in a massive shunt, inevitably.

(Seeing four cars go off on the opening lap at the Belgian Grand Prix this year reminded me of the 1998 race which was truly epic, and one I've still got on video somewhere...)

I Can't Sleep

I tried counting sheep lots of times
And that just sent me into concentration
I then tried to close my eyes and think blank
But I just kept thinking of the isolation
I tried not to drink coffee to be less alert
But that just made me less in control
During the day when I need to be awake
So I found that solution very very droll
No matter what I do sometimes I can't sleep
And it does bug me that I can't just go
Fall into a deep sleep when I want to
As my head hits the comfortable pillow.

(Sometimes you just can't sleep, you know?)

Just One More Go

When I was a fair bit younger
The best games didn't have the best graphics or sound
But what they did do was make you have
One more go so that you'd go for another round
Even today that sometimes still rings too
Especially if you've ever played Wii Sports
You try so hard at the bowling to get strikes
And aim to always better your scores
Back then in the 1980s a game would keep you busy
Sometimes for hours and hours on end
Because the difficulty level was fairly set
And it wouldn't drive you round the bend
Sometimes today a game just has that feel
And it's universally praised for being good fun
Because there's always the one more go factor
So you'll give the game another epic run.

(Ah, the days when I'd spend 3-4 hours at a time on a game. I don't do now, but the one more go factor is still there sometimes.)

Want To Go Back Haiku

I want to go back
To my spiritual home
January, come!

(II bet you can guess where I might be heading in January then!)