Sunday 31 January 2010

1245 - Slipping and hiding

While music plays, a football commentary
From the TV tuned to the radio
Reports from Arsenal. It was snowy
Down Wilmslow way today, where little Jo
Was seven. We went out into the snow
With her new bike I’d bought and brought, but it
Proved fraught with difficulty. Where to go?
It was hard work ploughing through the snowdrifts
In the park, stopping icy side road slips
And at the side of the main road, scary
As cars and vans roared past. Goodbye to Jo
She takes her presents, the door shuts and clicks
She’s off to party, but that’s not for me
I’ve so much to do, but, oh, well, you know…

1244 - Wrote away on the motorway

I’ve been here before, writing my sonnet
Sat on Megabus, northbound from London
Today we’ve been watching Crystal Palace
Beat Peterborough (they’re as good as down)
The train journey was a real easy one
Went from Victoria to Selhurst direct
No need for tubes to burrow underground
Taxis, buses, barges or private jet
I met my son, and from him could collect
Belatedly my three birthday presents
From him - all DVDs - and I gave him
Belatedly his from me. No request
For anything had come my way from his
End, so I gave him fifty quid. All done!
Sat 30 January

Friday 29 January 2010

1243 - Lair of the liar

I delayed leaving for work, caught a glimpse
Of a surprising sight - the Inquiry
Into Iraq, and Blair’s live appearance
How is he looking? Boyish? Furtively?
How is he acting? Innocent? Guilty?
And how is he answering? Well? Or ill?
Chilcot has got him there, true, but will he
Get him, or set him free? Well, time will tell
But now I had to leave, for duty called
A cold wind blew on Trinity Way, pumps
Pumping me on and on to Ralli Quays
I’m comin’ down the mountain of email
Checkin’ the BBC website for hints
Why war was waged in 2003

Thursday 28 January 2010

1242 - Climate of fear

Is climate change man-made? Well, no-one knows
The glaciers are melting, that is clear
But climates have changed in the past and snows
Of yesteryear have waxed and waned each year
Some winters have been harsh, some summers were
Hotter, some cooler; the mid-seventies
Summers were hot and sunny: remember
The prayers for rain in ’76. These
Variations can’t be easily squeezed
Into a model that can be supposed
To be definitive. Yet there’s this fear
That things are getting worse from industries
What industries? The revolution slows and slows
Computers rule now, or so it appears

Wednesday 27 January 2010

1241 - Load of balls

Come on City, you can beat United
Come on you Blues, keep crowding out the Reds
The big Manchester derby has started
Only a mile away at Old Trafford
One more bad result last night, I’m afraid
For the not-so-mighty Rams of Derby
Soon they’ll be calling for Nigel Clough’s head
Going down to London on Saturday
To watch Crystal Palace with son Louis
They’re in administration; deducted
Ten points this week, but I am more worried
About getting there and back. A taxi
Will probably at some point be needed
So I don’t miss the bus and get stranded

Tuesday 26 January 2010

1240 - Th' angelic choir of Ordsall

Oh what a lovely long strange day it’s been
I slept only two hours and rose early
At work by seven-thirty, what a scream
Some nearly jumped out of their seats to see
My unexpected entrance; also we
Had lots of laughs there. Left by four, so home
In time to receive the delivery
Of my new mini-camcorder. My phone
Rang shortly after. New choir practice on!
Only a quarter-mile away, the scene
Of Ordsall Acapella, soon to be
In Ordsall Hall when refurbishment’s done,
But for now in the Arts Centre. I’ve seen
Good things there. Now let’s progress, musically!

Monday 25 January 2010

1239 - Monday night in the Northern Quarter

I’m sitting writing on the roof terrace
I’m waiting for the open mic night start
It’s music night on Mondays and my biz
Is checking such nights out, not taking part
Not just yet anyway; still got to sort
Out an act, choose my best songs and rehearse
Till I’m blue in the face, so I’m not sport
For mockers, ignorers and chatterers
It’s hard to play properly, to learn each verse
Chorus and middle eight! I’m on the piss
Tonight, out of boredom. Will I get caught
Up in excitement at all that occurs?
Will the vibes be good? Will I choose to miss
This night in future? Find a lonely heart?

Sunday 24 January 2010

1238 - The ins and outs of staying in and going out

So many nights out to choose from, it’s hard
But out there’s destiny, in here is death
So many free nights, too; no credit card
Needed, nor much to be drawn out, unless
You want to drink yourself silly, a mess
Of a person and of a bank account.
Okay, it’s cheaper still to stay in, yes
But then new excitement will never mount,
Old memories will fade and you will count
For nothing; effectively you’re self-barred
Like in the late nineties, or when enmeshed
In marriage with a child, later. I can’t
Face poetry night tonight, though; it’s marred
By the odd face I would rather forget

Saturday 23 January 2010

1237 - If food be the music of love...

I’m listening to Traffic’s live version
Of ‘Who Knows What Tomorrow May Bring’ and
Getting a little bit hungry. Luncheon
Was big: the Toby Carvery, Heaton
Chapel, Stockport, which is another one
Worth remembering, like the Thai Banana
In Fallowfield, but now the voucher’s gone
I may never go there again. In a
Few minutes, football’s on, so I’ll find a
Snack of some kind, and park my bottom on
The sofa with it, and watch that. The band
Are jamming away there at the Fillmore
East (New York), November ’70. John
Barleycorn hasn’t died yet. But quite soon…

Friday 22 January 2010

1236 - On a full tank

I actually enjoyed my work today
Though it was fast-paced and quite demanding
I’ve looked after myself this week; I’ll say
That it’s paid off, the way I’ve been feeling -
Enthusiasm, energy coursing
Round my body, my head, my veins, my mind
I’ve not felt down (much) and I’ve been laughing
Or just not caring, instead of that blind
Reaction of rejection. What I’ll find
If I continue down this path is way
Better than to continue tunnelling
Stay above ground, look around, where it’s signed
Just follow the main road and I should stay
On course for more exciting travelling

Thursday 21 January 2010

1235 - Crowded out

People who are accepted can be rude
People who are accepted be unkind
People who are rejected are their food
People who are rejected are outshined
The so-called nice people stick to their kind
The so-called nice people will run you down
The so-called bad people disturb their mind
The so-called bad people cause them to frown
The loudest in the crowd make a harsh sound
The loudest in the crowd cause a dark mood
The quietest in the crowd are hard to find
The quietest in the crowd just hang around
The crowd is not a place to be pursued
The crowd is not a place within my mind

Wednesday 20 January 2010

1234 - One, two, three, four

One, two, three, four, let’s hear a little more
About what’s going on in this whole world
Barack Obama, now he knows the score
The Yanks hate Commie healthcare schemes; no girl
Or boy from a poor family can call
On a good doctor. But the USA
Still send help to Haiti, ensuring all
The world can see their humanity, eh?
The camera pokes its nose in all the way
Into the earthquake victims’ distress. Poor
Haitians. We care, this week. Unemployment fell
In Britain; don’t know how. Few jobs today
Except low-paid ones. So - one, two, three, four
The number of this sonnet - that is all

Tuesday 19 January 2010

1233 - Sonnet full of soul

I’m listening to a soul compilation
While typing this quick diary entry
I’ll turn the TV on when I am done
To watch Man United versus City
The League Cup semi, live on BBC
I’ve done so much since I got home, and yet
There’s still so much more, if I want to be
What I want to be. I’ve now got a chart
Mapping out strategies, and I must start
Following its guidance. The TV’s on -
It’s EastEnders! Not seen that probably
For five years. Now the time has come for sport
But I won’t just sit there; I’ll also strum
And practise my cover versions shortly

Monday 18 January 2010

1232 - Little earthquakes

A year older? The number’s gone up, true
But really, it’s only a day older
So I won’t worry too much or feel blue
There are no sudden cracks needing paper
It’s more like the earth’s crust moving under
The well-tilled soil, the well-built houses, slow
Vesuvius bides its time, as does Etna
Till it splits, till the inside starts to flow
And dissipate; waiting for tomorrow
Or decades after. Laughter may accrue
And burst out. So may pain. Is this the year
For explosions, or will the land lie low?
Statistically, it’s far more likely to
Stay quiet. The odd rumble of thunder

Sunday 17 January 2010

1231 - A bouquet of barbed wire

Too tired to sleep last night, then the neighbour’s
Usual early Sunday noisefest wrecked
What short rest I’d fought for for several hours
And finally bought so dearly. Some sect
That teaches against lie-ins, I expect
And he’s the high priest of their Salford church
His services one floor below connect
His fervent visions with my own that lurch
From dream to dream, but get knocked off their perch
By his human cockerel act. Oh, for powers
Of eviction, papers all served correct
With instant effect. This I must research
On Google, and hand to him the Flowers
Of Evil in his bawdy lair, Semtexed.

Saturday 16 January 2010

1230 - Cross purposes

Attended a planning workshop today
Drew up a plan of action for this year
I need to be focussed, I need to say
To myself what I want, how to get there
Too often I’ve been sloppy, and it’s fair
That some were not impressed at what I did
Last year, though I tried, but I know there’s spare
Capacity. I know that I must rid
Myself of escapist ruses; a lid
Must be put on beer and cigs; I must play
And work six nights a week fully sober
Rationally creative in this mid-
Life stage of mine. Positively display
Serious purpose; this cross I must bear

1229 - The anti-social scene

Not much sleep had; off to work; still icy
But morning rain dispelled the remnant slush
In the evening, a night of poetry
In memory of Alex, who would much
Have enjoyed himself there. Got back in touch
With some old faces, many of them nice
As usual the odd one or two not
It’s simple: avoid those who take the piss
They’re not worth it; they mustn’t have a lot
Of happiness inside. Poor Alex; what
A loss to the scene. He could sometimes see
The harsh side of people, so quick to judge
Him, as we all judge. If they’re not our sort
We give them the cold shoulder. Alex, he
Stays in our thoughts, though far beyond our reach

Friday 15 January 2010

1228 - Taxing times

Attended a meeting at the airport
Discussing tax - ho hum - what fun - yeah, right
At times the discussion became quite fraught
And telling lies just increases the plight
Of those already at fault. But in spite
Of this, there were some laughs too! Headed back
Home, changed, ate sandwiches, but didn’t quite
Manage the soup (tomato). Then made tracks
For Vantage Quay, helping carry P’s bags
Down to my parked car, then drove to Oxford
Where she’s now starting her penultimate
Term there on her four-year French course. She lacks
Her early enthusiasm; a sort
Of weariness has turned day into night

Thursday 14 January 2010

1227 - Lose the plot

I’ve just watched the film, Slumdog Millionaire
And it reminded me why I hated
The show, when my ex-wife had it on there
Where I moved into after we dated
The show which so boringly debated
Do you (coward) take the money and run
Never knowing you rightly decided
Or wrongly: would you have got the question
Correct; would you have won a million?
Set in India, it showed life’s unfair
But then, with its happy end, created
An alternative life where we have fun
Although our family is all dead. Somewhere
In plotland, this should be contemplated

Tuesday 12 January 2010

1226 - My ball of string

The boring work meeting, and tiredness
From lack of sleep, is a double whammy
I notice now, though, that I suffer less
From poor concentration than formerly
I think this is due to activity
In my spare time which sharpens up my mind
Playing and composing regularly;
Writing these sonnets; not just daily grind
But daily mental exercise, I find
Has benefits even in the workplace
Like not drifting off into reverie
Like following the talk as it unwinds
Like a ball of string in a maze; I’m lost
No more, no matter how I’d like to be

Monday 11 January 2010

1225 - Snowetry

I need to go out soon, into the night
Another poetry night. Easy to read
So much easier than singing, all right
I’ve written some recently, and I plead
Guilty to being inspired by the freeze
Which has unfrozen my muse, funnily
I’ve eaten my tea: potato and peas
No pies or milk left; I’d better buy these
From Sainsbury’s when I go out, soon. Quite
Melted now, the snow crunches under feet
Some more fell, though only in thin flurries
It’s a long way to go, but think I might
For sane, structured speech; something that I need
Not the cacophony that makes ears bleed

NB: I didn't make the poetry night in the end. A phone call made me late, so I stayed in!

Sunday 10 January 2010

1224 - Cheshire winterscape

Around the endless bends with snowy sides
Roads now black again, white dispersed by tyres
Lunatic cyclist tentatively rides
I sensitively pull out and pass by
Not wanting him to end up in the mire
Bare trees, sometimes in huddled groups of four
Twigs chattering in the cold wind, they conspire
Jodrell Bank’s dishes stand stacked sideways for
A giant’s tea party at half-past four
The slippery hump back bridge and railway lines
Indicate quaint Holmes Chapel; the church spire
Homed in on, reacquainted, lurched past. Tour
Complete already, searching for the signs
To ‘Pirate’s Paradise.’ Warmer, dryer!

Saturday 9 January 2010

1223 - Uncertainty

Deciding what to do is a problem
In life; a billion possibilities
But not all paths are passable, and when
You start out on one, sometimes there’s a freeze
And you get stuck halfway, among the trees
Or treacherous slopes, icy surfaces
And sheer isolation. So do you please
Yourself, which is the hardest path, or base
Your journey upon sensible advice?
Stay in, go out, look up, look down, suspend
Plans, scrap them, or amend? And which of these
Is the right, the most appropriate choice?
Just fighting on, and hoping, in the end
Is the only way any of us sees

1222 - That Friday morning feeling

Was awake half of last night, radio
On quiet, ineffective lullaby
Kept thinking of the same tune I now know
As one of my favourites. When you try
To go to sleep, sometimes your mind will fly
In the wrong direction, so you give chase
But further off it flaps; you don’t know why
Psychic energy circling your headspace
Relaxing impossible in this race
You must lose but cannot let yourself go
Slowly until the light of dawn. Yawn, sigh
And unnoticed, the mist, falling. Your face
Turned clockwards, still cannot let yourself go
To sleep. Work keeps calling. You cannot lie

Friday 8 January 2010

1221 - Ice and hellfire

I’ve driven to Liverpool once again
I’ve driven myself hard, perhaps too hard
They said it was too dangerous: you’ll end
Up in a tangled mess of blood and lard
Of glass and metal, the side of the road
An exhibition of the dead, for free
Fresh meat, a treat; fleet-foot from far and wide
See the remains of Andy N and me!
The rest of the Fiesta smashed on the
Liverpudlian ice… But no, not then
Not now, but when does the dark book record
The ending paragraph of my story -
At least, that part of it that my own sense
Will perceive directly, fed by my blood?

Wednesday 6 January 2010

1220 - Into the white

This snowscape tests your resolve, it reflects
Your determination to get to work
To hospital, to school; it can’t deflect
You from your stated purpose, though there’s talk
Of no buses, no cars, no trains; just walk
Try to go in a straight line, and don’t slip
But if you do, it doesn’t matter. Fuck
What they say, or if they laugh when you trip
Or slide without meaning to, down a slope
The world’s a blank white canvas: place your steps
Upon it like King Wenceslas and smirk
As you turn back. You feel a forming drip
On the end of your nose, observe effects
Brief beauty preserved in your memory book

Tuesday 5 January 2010

1219 - Let it snow let it snow let it snow let it snow let it snow

The beauty of the early morning scene
Struck me as I came out of my front door
The snow was deep and white (not at all green)
My boots sank down but never touched the floor
The high branches intermittently poured
Their crystal contents near my head; cautious,
I crept quickly beneath while making for
The safety of the open sky, the trees
Three times cursing their luck at each near miss
The Regent Road traffic was barely seen
The slush hills and valleys a long brown score
From Liverpool to Manchester and Leeds
A relief to be home; I’m not too keen
On going out tonight. Will it snow more?

1218 - Snow fun on the M62

So glad to be back home in Manchester
I’ve just undertaken the drive from hell
I nearly needed an undertaker
Myself, driving, as the driving snow fell
From Liverpool to home. The alarm bell
Rang repeatedly as I overtook
Each lorry on the motorway; each spell
Spent in the icy, snowy ‘fast’ lane looked
And felt like the end. I saw myself tucked
Not so comfortably in the barrier
Of the central reservation, the smell
Of fuel mixed with blood and sheer bad luck…
As I walked safely from the car through the
Virgin snow, I breathed deeply, long and well

Sunday 3 January 2010

1217 - Summary of family fun

My daughter, P, is 22 today
But after texting her to wish her well
I spent a few hours first with little J
We went shopping, then to the swimming pool
She didn’t want to leave; I tried to tell
Her she was late, but she wouldn’t climb out
A quick McDonald’s, where they tried to sell
Me a sour choc milkshake; I had to shout
For a banana one to replace it
Next, a meal to celebrate P’s birthday
At Dough - so filling, it was a struggle
To eat it all, and no room for dessert!
A lively day, enjoyed it all the way
And a grown-up chat with both P and L

Saturday 2 January 2010

1216 - Tomorrow has come after all

I’m getting used to the year 2010
It’s like I’ve been sent into the future
It always does at New Year, true, but then
It just feels more futuristic out here
I keep expecting to see robots peer
From behind the TV or the sofa
I keep expecting to open a drawer
And pull out a replacement nose or ear
Or plug my head in, increase my brain power
Transport myself for an hour to Athens
Swallow a pill; won’t need to eat all year
And I’m not even in the old solar
System any more; can’t afford the rent
Some things will never change, at least that’s clear

Friday 1 January 2010

1215 - Magna Sonneta

New Year’s Day, new decade - the Teenies - yeah
But more importantly, this sonnet is
Number 1215. 1215, the year
Magna Carta enshrined our liberties
Well okay, not OURS, but of each big cheese
Of the time; you know, barons, earls and stuff
Who simply wanted to limit taxes
King John was asking for since fucking up
In France, some of which England owned, the top
Parts, like Normandy, and further down there
In Aquitaine and Gascony. John’s biz
Was to raise money, but he was a fop
Relying too much on the pope. Prepare
For more historical sonnets like this!