MOSQUITO BIKES

(In a town in France, August 2012)

Growl-buzzing like giant mosquitoes,
farting pungent petrol fumes,
small motorbikes interweave with traffic,
breaking the afternoon's peace,
and while cars and buses hold dominance,
the young mosquito bikers scream loudest,
riding and whining far, far into the distance.

SILENT POEM

Student note: It is strictly forbidden to read the poem above out loud.

GORE AND GOD

On reading a news report that combative writer Gore Vidal had died....

I read that Gore Vidal has died,
he might be heading your way,
so just in case God, brace yourself,
for he'll still have lots to say.

He liked a debate, to disagree,
to get things off his chest,
a sharpish tongue and rapier wit,
in peace unlikely to rest.

For in amongst his many quotes,
some deep, some funny, some rude,
he suggested get rid of religion
for religion will do you no good. 

Gore v God and God v Gore,
the ultimate debate,
so just in case God, brace yourself,
he might soon be at the gate.

MOST VIEWED IN 7 DAYS TO 12.08.12

Here are the most viewed posts on this blog in the past 7 days - just click and read:

JOE-T LAUREATE'S OLYMPICS, 2012

RAVEN MAD (Chartres, Aug 2012)

C'EST LA GRRRRR!

OBSERVATION OUTSIDE CHARTRE

ANDY MURRAY (UPDATED)

SHIFT by RHIAN GALLAGHER (Poetry

CAROL ANN DUFFY ENVY

LEAVING WORK (BELFAST, 1911)

SANS CROISSANTS

WAITER V UMBRELLA

JOE-T LAUREATE'S OLYMPICS, 2012

Poet Laureate, Carol Ann Duffy, published her poem about the Olympic Games and I thought as Joe-t Laureate, I would have a go, nodding here and there to Duffy's themes.......


Spring and summer were crap,
then through a gap, a stunt-Queen
parachutes to the Olympic Games,
towards commoners and famous names.

We begin, we prepare to lose or win.

We speak all-sorts here,

the real-Queen's English and other stuff,

spouted by all classes and scroats,

from Land's End to John O'Groats,

from here, there and everywhere,

from around the world they came to share.

We make way for the bandwagons of VIPs, 
corporate giants, gold diggers and glory seekers,
but, hats off, all hail Lord Sebastian & Co
for a start-to-finish spectacular show,

We cheer gold, we cheer silver, we cheer bronze,

we cheer poster girls and boys and volunteers,

we shout and scream, we drop the Nation's jaw,

looking at the miraculous impossible in absolute awe.

Anthems and tears, dreams realised and dashed,
a spirit to cherish, momentum to burn,
in a Games together, in a world on its knees,
to hell with austerity, we want legacies.

We want parks and tracks, playing fields galore,

otherwise what's the point, what's it been for,

we want swimming pools, velodromes, canals for canoes,

and the next generation in faster running shoes.

We want six-pack bodies and side-burned faces,
we want inspiration, grind and hard-work sweat,
we want more of the highest, the fastest, the strongest,
we want to challenge who can survive the longest.

We were altogether witnesses to the execution, 

the beheading of the recession's giant of doom,

we sense in a sense its not all pounds and pence,

we have a chance, so beware Monday morning's gloom.

Spring and summer were crap, until the Games,
old heroes, new heroes, we know all their names,
we have a chance for the future, to get off our ass,
but not if we take our foot off the gas.

SANS CROISSANTS

France, July 2012

Like a library with no books,
like a pub with no booze,
like a dog with no bark,
like newspapers with no news.

Like bees with no buzz,
like birds with no song,
a French cafe without croissants
is just plain wrong.

WAITER V UMBRELLA

Chartres, July 2012

Small waiter grapples
to raise a large table umbrella,
struggles to reach high enough,
his hand slips, au secours,
the umbrella collapses towards its pole
and he is almost swallowed whole.