Tag Archives: poetry

Cassandra’s Portrait of Jane

Cassandra’s portrait of Jane measures about four inches square,

And is said to be “not such a good likeness.”

For,

It seems,

No eminent painter of the day

Lured the good Miss Austen

To his studio to capture her essence in oils,

No sculptor attempted to hew her form out of cool marble,

And no place was reserved in Poet’s Corner for her tired bones.

Today,

Though,

Walk down Princes Street and observe

The Scott Monument towering majestic,

Old Watty and his faithful hound glaring down at passing shoppers,

Though no ladies queue to stroke the moleskin trousers of

Ivanhoe

And there are precious few television re-enactments of

The Waverley novels

These days.

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Clowns

I’m a clown, though you might not know,

I don’t wear big shoes or a red nose, belong to a travelling show.

For clowns are not always what you expect,

And there are some faux clowns who maybe look the part,

But they’re bad tempered fat old men who are not blessed with the clowning art,

You’ve seen their advertising:

Mr Chuckles, birthday parties, face painting and balloon hats,

In lurid braces performing pratt-falls to take moolah from fat cats,

Real clowns like me, though, are more subtle,

We might make a joke on the morning commuter ride,

Or some witty remark at lunch to stop you seeing what’s inside.

We wear our invisible red noses to cover our shame,

Trip over our big feet to gloss over the atrocities we dare not name.

Men have walked upon the moon but we dare not look too closely at our past,

Dredge up old memories of – say – the year before last.

And though we seem like likeable types and fun to be with,

It is all just layers of greasepaint, our bonhomie is myth.

Don’t trust us further than you can throw our brightly coloured props,

Don’t believe our promises when we say we’ll pull out all the stops

To make reparation for our hundred million wrongs,

I’m sorry, please forgive me, these are our favourite songs.

So by all means, buy your tickets for the circus, watch wild animals roam,

But though you’ll laugh a lot at our clowning, don’t take us home.

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Filed under black humor, funny poem, poetry

Those Ladies With The Comfortable Shoes

for National Poetry Day….

Why all the big fuss
About those ladies with their comfortable shoes,
Who mind their own business
Quietly
Sans heels
And brew their camomile tea
And commune serenely With their mystic ginger cats.

Not for them the empty boasts
That one night with them
Will turn straight women gay,
No shouts of “Straighty!”
Or worse,
At passing strangers in the street.

I think that we can learn a lot
From those ladies with the comfortable shoes.

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Joining the Edinburgh Poetry Bus Tour Earlier Today

With the lovely Nicole Strachan and Graham the Tour Guide (thanks to Lothian Buses for the pic and promoting the gig!)

Edinburgh  Poetry Tour

Edinburgh Poetry Tour

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Eastern European Animation

A song to the tune of Streets of London

Have you seen the clay man,
Standing on the skeleton,
Drinking cups of Bovril from the Plasticine goldfish.
Let me take your weary eyes,
And lead you through the films of Poland,
I’ll show you something to really blow your mind.

Have you seen the moving stones,
Grinding out a melody,
And the organ-grinder who’s made from fuzzy felt,
And the tatty bendy toy, singing out to “Day-oh”,
Yes, I’ll show you something, to really blow your mind.

So let us meet the pipe-cleaners,
Climbing through the bombsites,
Educating pioneers and crumbling regal dolls,
They will end as Soviet jeeps,
Flying fabric cosmonauts,
In the animation, that really blows your mind.

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Filed under Film, poetry