Poetry

If there's one thing I've always enjoyed writing, it's some poetry. It's often therapeutic to write down your thoughts and channel the energies into something that others may enjoy over time. If you like what you see and wish to obtain some more, please use the contact me page to do so. Thank you.

If you wish to read the archives of poetry that I've written over the years, now you can. All are listed by month, so check it out:

2019
Dec
Nov
Oct
Sep
Aug
Jul
2018
2017
2016
2015
2014
2013
2012
2011
2010
2009
2008
2007
2006
2005
2004

Here's the poems for July 2019:

The Magical Pink Stuff

My tummy wasn't feeling good
I just kept getting plenty of pain
I felt like I was being doubled over
I didn't want to go through this again
I went to see the pharmacist
He said to me I needed something strong
And recommended Pepto-Bismol
And told me I wouldn't go wrong
Sure enough I started my course
And the think pink liquid went down
It certainly felt quite settling
And I wasn't wearing a frown
I didn't have the pains I'd had before
And I was able to properly do a poo
That felt a massive relief all round
It was a case of doing what I needed to do.

(I've got some stored safe in case I get similar tummy upsets in future, this did the job and was magical!)

Overcast Old Trafford

The Lancashire ground looks all darkened above
With a cloud that looks so ominous
But what this means is that for swing bowlers
It's the conditions that they find glorious
The ball will move around a lot more
And this means the batsman will have to work
Or be out from an excellent inswinger
That will drive the opposition berserk
I've often been past the ground
Where there's been a match playing on
And the cheers of the crowd as stumps fall
And the commentators yelling "He's gone!"
When it's overcast at Old Trafford
It's a case of knowing that you will win
If you're able to be like Jimmy Anderson
And make that ball sweetly swing.

(As proven in test matches, the Cricket World Cup et al, when it's overcast at Old Trafford, swing bowling really does come into its own..)

Heatwave in Europe

I'm on the Mediterranean coast by the sea
The temperature is creeping up a lot
It's a heatwave that's hitting Europe
And it just feels so warm and hot
It's the first time I've experienced that
Which really did feel so humid and sticky
No matter how much you tried to keep cool
The heat just made it feel you icky
Even at night when you went out
The temperature didn't really drop
You had less sun to face it was true
But you really couldn't walk far, you had to stop
I just wanted the heat to cool a little
So I could walk around without sweating
But it's something that was really warm
And that heatwave I'm not forgetting.

(My, it was bloody warm when away, and I mean really warm!)

Hell On Earth Is The Northern Line

They often call it the misery line
Being underground in oppressive heat as well
As the train empties out at Bank
The Northern Line is an idealistic hell
There's the narrow small carriages
With the seats that just absorb the heat
As you pass through Angel
And head along towards Old Street
You don't see light until you leave
All the way down to Morden
And going North it's all the same
Until you get to Golders Green, then
It changes personality to a metro service
As it heads upwards to Edgware
But it still feels so hellish
Because the feeling of travel isn't there.

(Must admit, there's part of me that wants to like the Northern Line, but it's just so... miserable.)

Train Up North Haiku

On the train I go
All the way to Manchester
Just to see my love.

(And it's something I don't mind doing one bit..)