Are You Lost?

Are you lost? he asks.

I don’t know, I say. I think so.

What’s that bracelet around your ankle?

Oh that, it’s a monitoring device in case I get lost.

So are you?

I guess so. I was wandering like Wordsworth. Only he saw daffodils.

So what do you see?

I was just looking at the windy lake, how the waves arch like dolphins through the water and i thought of that song

What song?

The one that goes: ‘I wish I could swim like dolphins can swim’

You see that?

Yes, don’t you? Excuse me, that’s my phone ringing. I really have to take this. Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m coming right now. I have to go, I say.

So you’re okay then?

Yes, Someone’s waiting for me, waiting out the front.

That’s good. Anyone you know?

Yes, someone I know very well. But it’s okay.. He found me. We lose each other from time to time.

Pardon?

Soon as I get home, I’ll lock myself in. for the night. That’s when my mother used to wander too. It’s for my own good.

A Cozy Crucifixion

Harvesting the cane would do it, so would elite tennis,

pounding the pool for Australia,

all fodder for the physio:

you lie prostrate on the plinth,

narrow as an ironing board

head down in the gap,

arms at yr sides, feet fastened at the base —

a cozy crucifixion,

planking for Jesus,

while muscles are massaged, kneaded.

coaxed into submission,

the little pummeling fists of current bringing you

to the shores of bliss

I Wonder if Spiders

I wonder if spiders

in their webs

at night

spin poems

‘bout me & you

nattering away in the moonlight

in neat little haiku

you with your cigs

me with my brew

of jasmine tea

spinning our memories

wishes

of how things might be

or would they instead

taking a jaundiced view

spin snarky little

senryu

The Beasts’ Revenge

Those rosemary & garlic sausages

we bought

to ‘beef up’ the barbie

in case the eye fillets weren’t enough

were beginning

to stink out the fridge:

‘the beasts revenge’ ;

so when we took them to your place and you declared

your barbie was ‘lamb intolerant’

we hit a snag

so when I said, I’m going to have to put them in your fridge

I thought you would say,

my fridge is ‘lamb intolerant’

but you never did;

in spite of those setbacks

we had a pretty good evening

though when we left we forgot to take home

the snags

so we hope you enjoy them

in one form or another

and no, we do not need them back

A Petulance of Poets

Not a tower of giraffes

Nor a bloat of hippopotami

But a petulance of poets

Gathered in a side room

Of the library

Each champing at the bit

Wishing the bore out the front

Would bugger off and let someone

Worthy get on

Not really listening

But when their turn comes,

Oh the words, the words,

Such melody, such sweetness,

Was ever anything ….

Barely noticing that many who had already read

Had buggered off home or hit the bar.

I have heard Stand-Up Comics are much like this.

It is no laughing matter.

• pic courtesy of Wikipedia

Arthur

You’re in for a treat, I say.

We’re off to see Arthur.

My toes do a little tap dance on the floorboards.

Come on, you two. Mustn’t be late.

We hop in the car and we’re off.

Thirty minutes in the Waiting Room

then the call.

The doorman lets us in.

Arthur bounces up to us.

Cheerful. Chubby. Cherubic.

Have a seat, he says to my toes

resting my feet on a pouf.

30 seconds one foot.

3o seconds the other.

Done and dusted.

All over red rover.

It’s a tough job,

but someone has to do it.

he says, chirpy as a cherry.

See you in six months.

My toes do a little dance

on the way out.

My Furry Friends

You are furry like a dog

sit at my feet like a dog

follow me around like a dog

always under my feet

but you don’t woof.

You are my slippers,

a handsome, friendly pair.

My ex never liked you.

She said I’d be wearing

a dressing gown next,

smoking a pipe,

reading cozy murder mysteries

in front of a log fire

but now it’s just you & me.

You often hear the phrase

‘let me slip into something

more comfortable’

as a prelude to sex

in steamy novels

but comfortable to me

means something else.

You can’t get into much trouble

wearing yr furry friends.

• pic courtesy of Pinterest

The Ninth Crypt

I am about to read a book called ‘The Ninth Crypt’,

A novel I acquired for twenty dollars at the supermarket

But fear I may have made a grave mistake:

Browsing through the blurb I see mention of only

The ninth crypt, all well and good, but what about

The other eight? Perhaps the author is planning prequels

Based on the success of this volume but seeing he is

Now a septuagenarian who came to writing late,

This is most unlikely; perhaps if I bury myself deeply

in the text I shall disinter enough cryptic clues

To keep me happy — but at 800 pages !!! I await

Clarification; in the meantime this tombstone of a novel

Shall stand on my shelf of great unread books.

• have you got any big unread books on your bookshelf?
• photo by Grangeburn on Pinterest

The Problem with Aldo

 
Aldo thrust his hand forward
eager, anticipating.
What could I do but shake it?
I didn’t have a coronary,
a brain bleed
or a meltdown
but shouldn’t we have touched
elbows instead, feet
[‘The Wuhan Shake’],
given a fist bump to each other
or even the Tibetan Tongue Greeting
though it seemed as warlike as a haka,
something a little less intimate
than a handshake?
Are we loosening up too early?
I wash my hands furiously with sanitiser
& keep 1.5 m from myself
for the rest of the day.
You can’t be too careful.
 
 

Losing One’s Lid

My rubbish bin has lost its lid

& asks me what to do..

“How would you feel if your Id,

was exposed to full view?

All that rancour, all that passion,

the outright lies and fibs

You wouldn’t want someone peering in

the trashcan of yr Id.

And what if the rain should tumble down?”

“All right,” I say, “all right, don’t be such a squib,

I’ll phone the local council up.

You shall soon have your lid.”

Everyone should have their lid,

pleasant though firmly secured.

The Id is not a pleasant spot

& should not be long endured.