ponderous poetry for the hoi polloi



Couleur Cardinal

Oh amore mio!

(And more and more I do love you),

In darkness unnerving I hang here and struggle,

But I carry on trying to

Cling on to the end of a strawberry lace,

Lost in sugary space,

How I long to tickle that

Stick of dynamite between your teeth…


Oh amore mio!

(And more and more and more I do love you),

But while I try with all my might,

To taste that dynamite,

It feels like donkey’s ears since I lit the fruity fuse

That trickles from the Couleur Cardinal

You so vexingly pass off as lips,


If only time would shake a leg!

The Nag’s Head

In my moments of desolation,

Expectancy is the hand that cast

A thousand heartbeats,

The cigarette,

Which so often drips from her lips,

As wisteria does weep tears of purple

From country cottages,

Oh how she turned the nag’s head from

Granite to poultice,

Which once did whinny with grief,

But now sings songs of summer and rain.


And while obsequiousness proves fateful for

Those who follow the wrong heart,

I would be foolish to mar my breath with


When it breeds such joyousness and relief,

For one man’s prison is another man’s paradise,

Oh! How blessed I would be

To spend my final living days with thee,

Behind the castellated walls of your love.

The Lungwort

Against my will, my love,

You shall compare me to the lungwort who,

With nervous breath,

Welcomes the reluctant anthems of spring,

And sings a song of her own that she hopes will

Stand the test of time,

But upon opening eminence eyes,

Sorrow walks in like rain uninvited,

To send shivers down her sorry spine,

With aqueous hands,

Wrapped around her neck with all the sternness and intent of a

Marble lion,

Whose silent roar renders her ears

Hopeless, useless, pathetic,

Much like the veiled sky which mocks the English


Blindfold and desperate,

And she’ll pray for the deathly grasp of the closing year,

So that she can be reborn,

And feel the warmth of your love once more.

Cat o’ nine tails

Come come Cat o’ nine tails,

Oh tease me

With your wicked whispers

Fired straight from a bolt gun into

My grateful ears,

Young whippersnapper

Whip me into shape,

My girl (that’s you!)

With nine lives to live,

And one life of mine to superintend…


Oh please,

Please, please please!

Just dig your claws into me and

Paint a red-hot tapestry,

To match the markings on your back,

(Eh don’t copy!)

But imitation is the best way to keep you near,

In times when you’re not here,

For I’ll try everything just to keep you close to


Ee bah gum

Ee bah gum,

You’re a reyt bobby dazzler,

Daft as a brush,

Go easy on me tiger,

Little rascal to tackle,

Fruitcake appetiser,

So beautifully and brutally honest!


My honouree tyke,

You sure do tek a good likeness,

Lucky stripe, that’s right

No soul on earth quite like you for niceness,

Your brightness is blinding,

In hiding, I’m finding,

That absence makes the heart grow fonder

(No relation to Henry)!

Reverie recurring

My love,

How my fading mind dreams of

You each night,

And the face that sunk a thousand


The rock of promise

Where your eyelashes sit like the

Frayed hems of obsidian seas,

Appropriately sequinned,

Divinely delicate

They do dance in unison

As the feverish bows of Tchaikovsky’s


These eyelashes,

Vacillating between bliss and sorrow…

Sorrow and bliss…

Shake the teardrops from your

Zircon duplet,

As they weep the warmest of tears

Beneath the blinking night…


And as one pair of eyes reluctantly close,

With the lasting image of the

Moon safely locked behind my eyelids,

Another will open,

To greet the morning sun once again,

And to love me, I hope,



The sharp-witted teeth of my

Hair comb,

No friend of the foppish flop of a


Think less man and more

Maine Coon,

Who gives a toss about


To catch a kiss in spring

Take me back

To the fizz, whizz and


Of her popping candy kisses,

Caresses of a dragon,

How the smoke detector’s

Defective, defunct, and dangerously lacking,

In an ice chamber

Built for



Yes my lips still crave the

Burning breath of her


È più che perfetto!

(I’ve taught myself to say),

This pistol, plume thistle,

Please whistle me down the wind,

And I’ll hope to catch

A kiss in




Let me enjoy the sweet taste of revenge,

And steal a kiss from the




Create a website or blog at

Up ↑