Snapshot Horizon/Phil Bird

I saw you on a snapshot horizon

In a gas mask goodbye

as your lights went down

puking up your five minutes lost time

into the pink


surgery sink

along that strange corridor

where aneashtetic leads you

Toddler perilous

in the Knickerboker glory park

of infancy

stripping runnerbeans

into a bucket

in the sunshine kitchen

with granny May

growing up

by growing back

to childhood

Astride a giant

play park plastic duck

in tan chewed collar

cardigan home knit

catching your breath

the day the ground rose

and hit you like thunder

the day of unexpected trajectory

from greasy creaking roundabout

to blooded wounded knee

and asphalt

Twisting the chains

on the big swings

round and round

till you were giddy

as a daisy

in a washing machine

scribbling out

the best word in your poem


it hurt

That knot of knowing

that world moma

always discovers

your shit.

reluctant hostage

to shirt and tie

at harvest festivals

July fetes

and the W.I.

wiff of wasp jam

and catnip Pot Puree

Arriving at High church Sunday school

in hopeless awe

at the draught-less

spacious monotony

the rank and file rows

of empty pews

under the worn and ragged

commonwealth flags

rolling Lots salt shaker

around and around your plate

playing 'The Guns of Naverone''

in the high mountains of mash

with bangers and peas

and hazardous seas

of Saturday gravy

watching the man

in his silk and raffia hat

playing accordion

at the edge of the music

with a bitter sharp wit

and beer drip beard

Sucking sherbet lemons

till roof mouth sore

and gum stung

peddling  a tin camouflaged


over the shimmering


by the dog piss

sand pit


at girt sac ripped

from Henny chuck chuck

slop by slop

onto the flour and peppery

Friday morning top

Catching the last

chocolate charabanc

to toothache town

standing a silent goodbye

to Grandma

on her  chapel rest bed

of waxy death

crouching by

the water Iris

as a Damsel fly

pumped life

into four gauzed

miracles of flight.

Copyright Phil BIrd

Monkey and Crows Adventure/part one

In the kitchen

Monkey squats

on a large stool

scattering rose petals

from an Ivory Bowl

Long abandoned cupboards


Kitchen utensils

crumbling scrolls

a spanner

left by a plumbers mate

a coffee stained Koran

a badly ratted bookmark

with  verses from

the Song of Solomon

On a damp packet of incense

sweet Krishna dances.

Monkey has made

a loosely piled

circle of petals

They are perfect

In flies Crow


in summers air

feathers sweaty

"you may scold me Crow "

(monkey says)

"for the impertinence

of my beautifull design

but you

old dark coat

are no Bower Bird"


Monkey and Crow go

to view

the lavender waters

of lake Long Feather

a flaggard of drunklings

meets them there

" a gob of wine for you crow?

 a gob of wine for you Monkey?"

Pretty Polyanna

the lake princess

sails up in her royal barque

The good ship Bramblebun!

"hail and hearty"

call out Monkey and Crow

"hail and Hearty me Mateys"

replies Pretty Pollyanna

Her Drunkling sevants 

build a platoon

log bridge

to the shore

Monkey and Crow

pirouette on board

The lavender waters

carry them away

The Good ship Bramblebun

Has a moon mask

on the main mast

it steers them

The figure head

is Hare playing low pipes

it plays them

Off to Boffin Issland

to look for lost

Cinnammon sticks

"there she be a' starboard"

yells Pretty Polyanna

"here we be above board"

reply Monkey and Crow

Back in the kitchen

all is as it was

The rose petals

in a perfect circle

Sweet Krishna dances

Copyright Phil BIrd

Cleveland Road

Does the wind still bruise and batter

Cleveland road  and the family brick?

Little Pippits on the couch

both ears throbbing

theres bully's in the schoolyard

he's kept home sick

The old Igranic spits metal slivers

"look kerbwise son or they'll split your eye"

Waste ground lizards

little jet black wonders

leap and go

before you can say "I spy"

Storming hills of dirt and rubble

make caves in piles of builders sand

see how smooth and fast it trickles

Like time through the fingers

of these tiny hands

Clad in Kaki camouflage

on Saturday safari

beating trails

to the stinging nettle wars

climbing the stairs in the old asylum

running scared

from ghosts of madmen

on the creaking boards

Does the wind still bruise and batter

Cleveland road and the family brick?

Little Pippits on the couch

both ears throbbing

theres bully's in the schoolyard

he's kept home sick

Sycamore  Sky Torch  Brother

I don't know anymore

than when I saw

the Sycamore seed

twirl and fall

in childhoods


ordinary park

Than when I saw

a comet

(they said it was Haley's)

smeared high

above the TV ariel

recently installed

than when they told me

I had a brother


who did not sing out

his birth carol

on Christmas day


Gods crib is empty

and that of his Archangel to!

The years go spinning

down and around

they land at my feet

The sky torch

which I found as inspiring

as  a damp squib

as a well aimed


its someplace else now

but I am assured

that at least


will return.

Copyright Phil Bird


Bruiser Davey

Dandelion Spaceships

land unadmired

in the butt end dust

of Daveys yard

Cracked china sink

spews pinks

and shriveled rock roses

one four spot


Flattened hard

Bruiser Davey

butchers boy from Leicester

Cauliflower lug holes

and neck boil volcanoes

all a fester

Sucking on a Foxes mint

leering with his septic squint

kneecaps all Germolin and Lint

Grabbing at Sunday school girls

with his meat hook arms

(they say his dads down on the funny farm)

Wimps like me

wizz by fast on trikes

screw up our faces

and call him names

He's not fast

but if he gets ya

he'll bust yer bollocks

and spam yer brains!

Copyright Phil BIrd


Red Guards

You broke the legs

of a gentle scholar

you covered

the smiling flowers

with rubble





is falling 

in a





Copyright Phil Bird

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