In the almost-very beginning, some seeds were sown in a cave in the Myddle of a county called Shropshire. The consequences of such a tiny and inconsequential act were not at first very obvious. But I am sorry to have to say that, in time, the cave walls suffered from the effects of natural erosion. And the thingContinue reading “Prologue – In the almost-very beginning …”
Category Archives: writing
Epilogue
And, on its return, it brought with it something that the children of Myddle had never before encountered. On its return, it brought with it … Please continue to Jay Cool’s ‘Back to the Myddle’ blog to find out all about the monstrosity that descended upon the quiet-unassuming village of Myddle.
Who are the ‘Bus Wankers’?
A collection of poems about the author’s bus travels, dedicated to the inspirational lads (clearly avid fans of the In-Betweeners) who drive past her bus stop every day, shouting ‘Bus Wankers!’ The ‘Bus Wanker’ poetry collections represents a plea to all councillors, across the UK, looking to save money by demolishing our much-loved bus stations. Instead, councillors should beContinue reading “Who are the ‘Bus Wankers’?”
‘F***, like?’
Well, like, I kind of like her. What, like, you fancy her, like? Yeah, I know like that she’s a bit sassy like, but … You like her? Yeah, like she’s fit, like, and fun! Fit, like? Yeah, like you know, like with Kardashian tits, like, and stuff. Stuff like a fat a***, like? Yeah,Continue reading “‘F***, like?’”
Isolation
Back-seat. Isolation. Elevated. Absence of old-dear smiles! Lens-wipes. Indulgence … An open book – Words waiting for absorption … Rattles and bumps – a soothing sound … Concentration. Perfection. Damp hair, unwashed and odorous. Itchy sinuses, Swishing leather straps, resonant buckles and tags. A dog-owner – expectant, proud, seeks admiration, a collaborative look, mutual affectionContinue reading “Isolation”
Exhumed
Knackered, exhumed, drawn-out, mesmerised … H & M tempts, siphoning up the remnants of me through a straw hat, bidding me with flesh-striped leggings, to sport my way over, fly over the stationary traffic, to zone out the time-wasters, to make mockery of the drivers queuing for home. I take off … upContinue reading “Exhumed”
Choice
Early, I shuffle into the soul- less bus-stop gathering, and am held upright and inanimate by buggies, walking sticks and re-usable bags made fat with High Street consumables, as I make my choice – Number 48 or Number 548? Twenty minutes or forty? Costa coffee won’t wait for a 48. Hudson’s rosé can make itContinue reading “Choice”
Dogged
Silent drones. perched, contemplative, canopied – a missed bus. A long stop stay … Book? Friendly face, bulging bags, an old man’s shopping, for his dog. No, not his, his daughter’s dog – a D-Dog. A D-Dog foisted upon him, a reluctant dog-sitter. A daughter’s assumption. An exploited man. Grandad? No. Just a dog-dad. AContinue reading “Dogged”
Entangled
Giggles. Chatter. Unfinished utterances. Non-comments. Giggles. One sits in front of me. One sits behind. Great. No more giggles. Can refocus. Can read again. Giggles. More. Great. And I’m here. Stuck. And I’m trapped. Entangled. Entangled by headphones in front and headphones behind me. By wires dangling across, in front and behind, between, and eitherContinue reading “Entangled”
‘Bus Wanker!’
Car slows, clatters on by, caterpillar pace, clash of context. “Bus Wanker!” shouts a spot, a spot in a passenger seat, a spot, that spreads outwards until it merges at one – with other spots. A carful of pink youths, blurred, hazy … Making a smudge in my notebook of poems. Copyright owned by JayContinue reading “‘Bus Wanker!’”
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 