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
antiseptic
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
because
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
jeeplet
over the shimmering
Asphalt
by the dog piss
sand pit
Wondersick
at girt sac ripped
from Henny chuck chuck
slop by slop
onto the flour and peppery
Friday morning t.able 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
spill
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
hot
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
ancient
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
Micheal
who did not sing out
his birth carol
on Christmas day
stillborn
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
disappointment
its someplace else now
but I am assured
that at least
it
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
ladybird
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
Now
frosted
lemon
light
is falling
in a
Red
Empty
Winter
Garden
Copyright Phil Bird