Sunday, November 24, 2013

comorant with bicycle and lampshade and other pictures


 OSTROGOTHICKVOMIT 


TINYTHUNDER 


DOLLISHILLDREAMTIME

DODO MODERN POETS: WINTER LIGHTS

dodo

Friday 13 December 2013

WINTER LIGHTS

JENNY RIDLEY
Classic poems set to acoustic music

P.R.MURRY
Obese Advocate of Cannibalising Royalty

LISA HITCHEN
Passionate poetry that doesn´t shrink from the personal

PAUL McGRANE
fine London poet making his Dodo debut
Friday 13 December 2013
8pm
The Poetry Café
22 Betterton Street, WC2H 9BX
£7/6 0207 420 9880, Covent Garden tube
dodo modern poets letting fly with words 0208 687 1930; 07769 777022 http://dodomodpoets.com/dodo.shtml
patric.poet@zen.co.uk

Thursday, November 21, 2013

COPD

I think of snails as I move along the pavement
In bursts of about 50 yards at a time.
Then I stop and pant to regain my breath
Then begin again my next 50 yard burst,

Marching to the sound
Of my stick tapping on the stones,
And the jingling of my jacket zip,
As it strikes my stick.

I stop and pant and start to worry.
I could become unstable and fall over,
If I got caught in the slipstream
From an overtaking snail,
Or be buffeted by the back draft
Of a tortoise or a slowworm passing me by.

 Once I climbed the highest mountain in Bulgaria,
I saw the wild chamois running,
Up the flanks of mount Vikren.

Now every trip to the bus stop is
The ascent of Everest without oxygen

Marching to the sound
Of my stick tapping on the stones,
And the jingling of my jacket zip,

As it strikes my stick.

IT’S ALL HOT AIR ISN’T IT?

Language is like steam,
And then it’s like ice,
And then it’s like water
It can name what it changes,
And change what it names.
It is constant over ages,
But it’s never the same.
It can send you to sleep
With a lullaby’s croon.
Send rockets to mars,
And put men on the moon.
Language is bitter,
It’s precise and it’s sweet
It’s an elaborate arrangement
Made from pieces of live meat.

Monday, November 11, 2013

The unknown unknown unknown gnomes

·       As we know, There are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know, there are known unknowns, that is to say, we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns, the ones we do not know we do not know.
·       Donald Rumsfeld, Department of Defense news briefing, 12 February 2002.

We don’t have to worry about
The known gnomes,
We can survey them from
The windows of our homes,
And, giving our net curtains
A discreet twitch
Check that they continue to
Smile and fish
As they dutifully sit
Adorning corners of our lawns.

And as to those unknown gnomes,
there are those that are within our ken
and we don’t need to worry about them
because all they do, is sit and wait
packed in boxes or contained in crates
they won’t leap into action
but will, when asked,
come out to perform their gnomic tasks.

But it could be that there still remain,
Unknown gnomes who are unknown
Living, perhaps on distant plains
Or residing in places we do not know
Up on windswept high plateaux,
Or sharing lairs
With undiscovered Himalayan bears
It is these little men we fear
Because we are not sure if they are there.
They may lurk away in the dark
Discernable only by strange enigmatic marks
And possible suggestive signs
That it could be that they leave behind,
To cloud the corners of our minds.
With puzzles that we cannot solve
Like why are they? And who are they?
And what could be the strange genome?

Of the unknown unknown unknown gnomes