Silly Poem – To Be Eaten

A response to Joseph Auslander’s poem: In Envy of Cows Why poeticize about the non-life of a cow, and why the envy? As the cow tastes the edge of August, it licks at the knife edge – that turns the flavour of lush pastures into offal. Tongue fed to the September dogs that yesterday nipped at…

Sonetto: A Savvy Poem

[Composed whilst intoxicated by sonnets in ‘Stressed Unstressed:Classic Poems to Ease the Mind’, ed. by Jonathan Bates et. al. (Harper Collins, 2016).] Small song; a sonetto of fourteen lines to cure the soul. Fourteen chances to clear the brain of summer gone and humour. Summer song. Stresses undone, drifting out – red, brown and yellow…

Down The Lane

As luscious-lime hedgerows turn jaunty ginger and smooth-slick skin turns furrowed and fusty, you remain true. Still there. My trusty friend; the comforting memory of a waft-warm drink. Still there. Trusty. A trusty friend very thoughtfully placed. Knowing that that my friend knows me, I smirk; a joke shared. Throat parched, I wait for jaunty…

Thought Buds

Is a thought that comes from a line of thought written by another poet, a thought at all that can be called a thought of my own, or is it simply a thread pulled from a coat of other people’s multicoloured thoughts? Is it a frayed thread, a thread that is really a twig sprouting…

Expiration

Expiration is not my desire. ‘Autumn Tree’ by Jay Cool To don an orange wig is not to wear a portent, or to be tree laden with oranges midst autumn leaves of speckled brown, muted tan or luminous yellow; a sign of the seasons, confused, muddled and merging into one. For years and years, I…

Washed-Out Socks

‘Washed Socks’ by Jay Cool Pink socks, and green, hanging out to dry – mingling into amber. A shade that suits a sallow skin – the ageing flakes of yellowed feet. Shreds and slivers, peels of the past, hanging. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, October 2018

Purple Berry

‘Purple Berry’ photograph by Jay Cool Purple berry’s twisted fate. Dried, dying, dangling, midst cherry pinks. Thirsty channel’s wearied weight Stretched, straining, slipping, t’wards motley greens. Salmon ball-gown’s awkward gait, Flustered, flipping, falling ‘mongst tawny golds. Middling ladies’ tired fate. Dried, dying, dangling midst hoary whites of ageing, ancient, trite old men – the last-chance…