I, shopping trolley

I’ve been used
I’ve been touched
I’ve been dragged
I’ve been abused
I’ve been banged
I’ve been pushed
I’ve been shoved
I’ve been fouled
I’ve been abandoned
I’ve been smashed
I’ve been sunk
I’ve been drowned
I’ve been crashed
I’ve been lonely
I’ve been found
I’ve been battered
I’ve been bound
I’ve been held
I’ve been chained
I’ve been filled
I’ve been full
I’ve been stained
I’ve been packed
I’ve been smacked
I’ve been gathered
I’ve been left
I’ve been right
I’ve been strong
all along

Get lost

I want to wander off
into the woods
to see the forest
where mist is king
and all birds sing
the air is pure
the soil mature

I want to get lost…
and be with me

A pothole

a pit
created by traffic
and tear
gathers rain
this unpredictable pool
of tyre pain
housing an abundance
of grit
and grime
collected over time
an asphalt mole
in the road
a pothole

Oh spring

oh spring
with your colourful splendor
so vivid
a canvas full of
natural hues
so tender
an annual reprise
every time
you overwhelm me
and take me
by surprise

Baby bunny

new to life
yet frail
it’s tiny tail
freshly furred
brown ha(i)re(d)
and slightly scared
a baby bunny hops
on my grass
mixed with weeds
en masse
as birds sing
and bugs bug
the bunny
whilst an ugly orange cat
goes into stalking mode

I have to break up the party…

Telephone 📞

often left
to a box
you used to listen to
many hellos
and frequent goodbyes
whilst swallowing
for money
and put down
you life saver
a sacRED shelter
in every other street
in town

~image by Simon Gradwell

First sun

first sun
what fun
no more depression
after spring
has sprung

april is here
flowers in gear
roses coming out
all the children
bloody shout

first sun
such fun
the rays are here
and the noise begun

Danny the Dalmatian

you’ve spotted me
said Danny
to the overlooking tree

you look
like you are thirsty
so I will kindly wet on thee

I also left you
a fragrance
to freshen up thy bark

so you smell nice
in this landscape oh so stark

No fly zone

a fly
couldn’t fly
in a zone
of his own
so he disguised himself
as a book
but his cover was blown

A courtyard of stone

an old man
playing a violin
his melancholy notes
to the sun
a blue sky
and a few birds
passing by
whilst forgotten chansons
echo off the walls
of shut shops
beneath a plane tree
almost alone
he brings tears
and joy
to a courtyard of stone

Reigns of sunshine

always here
always there
with sovereign strength
at great length
dominating heat
we can’t beat
much longer
the reigns
of sunshine
are getting stronger

To the forest

rising damp
steam and smoke
misty sunlight
like a faded lamp
gazing upon dead wood
covering moist soil
the earth breathing
through snugly moss
trees waving
wandering gust

I should go to the forest
I really must…

My beautiful English rose

was born
with many a thorn
yet blossoming
in my light
not to clamber
over yours truly
much to his delight

holding reds
fragrant and fresh
she stands firm
with puissant pose
now stuck
in me
I embrace her sting
my beautiful
English rose

A Nonymous

A Nonymous
was a shy young man
who came up
with a perfect plan

bought a cabin
in the boonies
to keep away
from all the looneys

glued his postbox
shut the blinds
build a fence
and planted mines

he removed himself
from internet
and stayed at home
all day in bed

turned his phone off
night and day
and put a sign up:
“Stay Away!!”

Screen door

aluminium and mesh
held by squeaky hinges
a gentle entry
of air
frequently fresh
oft carried
by a soft summer’s breeze
passing from porch to pantry
keeping bugs at bay
backing the back
and the front door
all seasons
night and day

Two yellow lines

two yellow lines
lead the way
directing us
to follow
the right side,
or the left,
in curves
through pines
and meadows
and forsaken lands
on endless slabs
at the hands
of the carefree
and careless
or not
two yellow lines


for forgotten souls
marked by
sagging tombstones
of grandfathers
and newborn babies
absorbed by soil
by moss
and lost memories
I dwell in silence
and stroll silently…

I still visit my friend


a virgin blanket
sewed with frozen powdered aqua
covering the lands
light and white
at the hands
of the sky…

a soft throw;
I think it’s called snow

Running Errand 🏃

was aroused
and running
from his duties
through and to
a red light
to meet up
with some beauties

when he saw
what he had spent
he soon came
to his senses
Errand chose
to rob the bank
to cover
his expenses

Witty word: Billbored

Definition of billbored
/bil bawrd/

1 wearied by the dullness of seeing vast amounts of billboards across the countryside whilst traveling:
Mister Barrow and Miss Parker got so billbored with all the signs wherever they drove that it triggered them to commit numerous felonies.

2 fed up off having to pay recurring bills:
After years of paying monthly rent for his trailer and the lease on his pickup Cletus got billbored before he started making moonshine down yonder in order to pay for an accountant to handle his financial affairs.

Origin of billbored:
2021; poetpas ©; Modern English, based on philosophical wit.

Dark grey clouds

through the small space
between my curtains
I can’t help but notice
dark grey clouds
slowly moving
and hovering
over leafless trees

I pray for more natural beauty
I am on my knees

Ole Dan Tucker

Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man
Washed his face with a fryin’ pan
Combed his hair with a wagon wheel
And died with a toothache in his heel

Get out the way old Dan Tucker,
You’re too late to get your supper,
Supper’s over, and dinner’s cookin’,
Old Dan Tucker just stands there lookin

Old Dan Tucker come to town
Riding a billy goat, leading a hound
The hound dog barked and billy goat jumped
And landed old Tucker on a stump

Get out the way old Dan Tucker,
You’re too late to get your supper,
Supper’s over, and dinner’s cookin’,
Old Dan Tucker just stands there lookin

Old Dan Tucker got drunk an fell
In the fire and kicked up holy hell
A red-hot coal got in his shoe
An oh my Lord the ashes flew

Get out the way old Dan Tucker,
You’re too late to get your supper,
Supper’s over, and dinner’s cookin’,
Old Dan Tucker just stands there lookin

Now Old Dan Tucker come to town
Swinging them ladies all round
First to the right an then to the left
Then to the gal that he loved best

Get out the way old Dan Tucker,
You’re too late to get your supper,
Supper’s over, and dinner’s cookin’,
Old Dan Tucker just stands there lookin

Songwriter: Mister Edwards, Walnut Grove
(truthfully Dan Emmett)

Proud to hold your hand

through all the parks
and fields
along the hedges
defining hills
on countless paths
over bridges
of creeks with ditches
smelling spring flowers
for hours and hours
I squeeze
you smile
and understand
that I’m in love
with you
and proud
to hold your hand

Autumn is back

the nights

the mornings

the leaves

the days

f*ck knows
where I’m going
with this
but autumn is back
whilst I’m
taking the piss

Mine owneth trail

thou art mine compass
and guiding lighteth
ste’ring me
in the right direction
I needeth to findeth
mine self reflection

I can’t beest sidetrack’d
and loseth mine bearings
whilst I walketh
mine owneth trail
yet I shall ch’rish
thy guidance
as I am only frail