Mervyn Clutton the Bellybutton Glutton

  NaPoWriMo day sixteen. Poem number sixteen is inspired indirectly by a young man called Harrison Baugh who likes to write about underworld creatures. It’s called Mervyn Clutton the Bellybutton Glutton

Hello, my name is Mervyn Clutton.

I live inside your bellybutton.

I like to nestle in the fluff

and wallow in the icky stuff

that you would rather not face

deep within your special place.

Mites for breakfast, lunch and tea

followed by a nice fat flea.

I top it off with food that fell

into your bellybutton well.

It’s fair to say I am a glutton

for the feast that’s in your button.

I may disgust your tender soul

but someone has to clean your hole.

If left to its own device

it would be overrun with lice.

So please do receive with glee

my bellybutton friends and me.

Elegy for Dying Love

  NaPoWriMo day fifteen. Poem number fifteen was inspired by a line I heard recently in a TV drama which I thought was such a sad line that I had to steal it for the first & part of the second line of this poem. The poem is called Elegy for a Dying Love…

 

I am losing you.

You do not know it yet but I see it.

I see the snatched looks;

the side glances;

hear your quickened breath;

feel you tremble when he is near.Continue reading “Elegy for Dying Love”

The Raconteur

  NaPoWriMo day fourteen and here’s poem number fourteen. it’s called The Raconteur…

 Never thought you were much of a conversationalist

until you spent the night with another woman

and apparently just talked for seven hours

without even going to bed

 or sleeping

or anything

I see you in a new light now

Red Tulip

  NaPoWriMo day thirteen and here’s poem number thirteen inspired by the plentiful red tulips my garden waiting for their petals to open to the sun. It’s called Red Tulip…

Red tulip.

A floral film star

striking an ingénue pose

in the heady world of the spring garden.

At the start of a burgeoning career

petals are pulled in tight and demure.

The next day a pout appears

and the next a big, blousy smile

ruby lips flashed wide in the spotlight.

But as with every ageing beauty

stardom fades and character parts

become du jour,

a backdrop for the bluebells,

until tired and yellowing

it’s put out of its misery and replaced.

Lullaby Lady

  NaPoWriMo day twelve and here’s poem number twelve. It’s called Lullaby Lady

Hush Baby hush, no more tears.

You’ve cried enough to fill the day.

Shush Baby shush, prick up your ears

the Lullaby Lady is on her way.

She’ll rock you gently in your bed

singing to you low and sweet

and softly kiss your careworn head.

Hush now Baby go to sleep.

She’ll tuck you in and blow out the light

so sleep now dearest.

Good night, sleep tight.

I Am Still Me

  NaPoWriMo day eleven and here’s poem number eleven. I have finally caught up.

This is a bit of a sad one inspired by the death of the much loved Australian cricketer and commentator Richie Benaud. I have never been a cricket fan but, for reasons I won’t go into now, I did see a lot of cricket in the eighties and nineties and so saw a lot of Richie on the TV. I’m ashamed to say that when I saw a recent picture of him on the BBC news last night I was shocked at how much he’d aged since I’d last seen him. How stupid of me: he was eighty-four, of course he had aged. The poem is called I Am Still Me. RIP Richie…

I Am Still Me

I am still me inside this worn and wasted body.

Still the man who fought for my country

on green battlefields, serving victory in a cup.

I am the one who made you weep with happiness

and kept you strong when pride was low.

The laconic wit that made you smile and

shake your head is still part of my make-up.

These hands, once prized, may tremble

but I can still hold you in their palms.

Remember me when I am gone

as the man I was, the man I still am.

 

Bring on the Stags

  NaPoWriMo day eleven and here’s poem number ten. In last year’s NaPoWriMo I wrote a poem about hen weekends called Here Come the Hens. I thought this time round I do a matching piece about Stag weekends. I don’t know if these are purely British phenomenons, I suspect not, but we get quite a few of both in my home town of Birmingham. I’ve added the first poem at the end so that you can view the pair of them together in all their glory. Hope you like them. I’m quite pleased with them…

Bring on the Stags

Bring on the stags,

bring on the stags.

Butting and rutting

and strut, strut, strutting.Continue reading “Bring on the Stags”

Coats and Hats

  NaPoWriMo day ten and here’s poem number nine, it’s about a good old fashioned summer and it’s called Coats and Hats…

Coats and hats are off today

the sun is shining

we’re out to play

on the streets

we will stay

until the moon

closes the day

we’ll have fun and games

and lots of laughter

with scones for tea and

ice cream cones for after

 

Heartache

  NaPoWriMo day nine and here’s poem number eight. I have almost caught up, what excitement. This one is called Heartache…

I don’t want the sun to shine

it won’t sit well with me today.

I want to stand out in the rain

and wash away this misery.

Let the rain come cruel and fast

batter, bruise and soak my flesh

until my body feels the hurt

I carry somewhere deep within.

Let it splash against my face

to hide the tears I shed for you.

I want to cry until I ache,

and I am cold, hard and spent.

 

 

Jellied Fruits and Dates

  NaPoWriMo day nine and here’s poem number seven, it’s called Jellied Fruits and Dates. It’s slightly out of season but hopefully you’ll like it and it will invoke happy memories of your Christmas past…

 

A memory lodged inside my head,

a ghost of Christmas past.

We were watching the panto on TV,

I can’t remember which one.

All of us jumbled together

on the old grey sofa in the front room,

skinny arms & legs intertwined

or dangling off the edge,

waiting for Dad to peel clementines

and hand them over one by one.Continue reading “Jellied Fruits and Dates”