Isle of Wight holiday Poem No2. Zigzag Road

We went down
Zigzag Road.
Did we obey
the green
cross code.
Did we hell?
In Ventnor
down "bronchitis
alley", the
hyperventilating
valley -with
over-active
temperature
changes.
When Zig and
Zag, cartoon
characters
from the past
displayed
the road sign
from the mailbag
of childrens goodies
and toys did
they expect
that road sign of
that name
displayed for all
to see?

Isle of Wight Holiday Poetry 1. Chine Sunshine

We walked across
the Chine in
sunshine.
Simon Ledger
singing Nat
King Cole to
a group of Island
pensioners.
Should it be
Kung Fu Fighting
His Karl Douglas
impression landed
him on the
front page of "The
Sun".
Yes, it did go
wong.
Dancing down
the Chine
to "Unforgettable"
40s chimes and
music.
You might even
lose it to
the psychedelic
coloured lights
LSD for purists.
Chine sunshine
silver lining
Crabb Inn
Hollier's Hotel.
Watching
regional Icarus
solar activity
In my Simon's
dad's video
playing as
we came in the
visitors room
Chine sunshine,
deja-vous.
Isle of Wight,
skies blue.
Melting on the
sublime River
Chine in Shanklin.

National Poetry Writing Month Poem No 9.

Road Jam

I'm in the
road jam,
we've been stuck
in it for hours.
We're in the
road jam,
there is no
flower power.
In the tunnel
choked from
summer love
We could've
took the train
instead to
Enfield and
back
but there
is no riot
just road jams
in the chocker block
polluted
capital.
Oh to be back
in Smogville
Boro,
not road
jam choked
London
fighting to
unpick the
words of
truth
through the thin grey veil
of southern snobbery.

National Poetry Writing Month Poem No8. Looking for Inspiration

Looking for Inspiration

I am running short of inspiration
as I look at a nation
full of vitriol
and antagonism.
Where the people in
high places
decorate themselves
with honours
and royalties
celebrities
build up
their images
like deities
and those
who conform
and follow
suit
end up
as parodies
of themselves.
While masquerading
as the gods
and goddesses
of today
the media
simply
embrace
the mainstream
guides thoughts,
actions and
beliefs
while corporate
enterprises
have us hooked
on cooking the
books
While the bankers hoard
we grin and obey
the tune of today
While the new order
grasps their
opportunities
carpe diem
seize the day
while the
world is left
on a precipice
that mankind made.

National Poetry Writing Month Poem 7. The Ghost Bus

The Ghost Bus

The ghost bus gleamed
grey in the summer haze
Pink cherry blossom
oozed from the pores
of tree branches.
Leaffall came
from Wallington Green
But the ghost bus remained
stony grey
Through the icy tentacles
of winter woodland
to the growing
depths of Spring
Where burrowed
among the squirrels
and the foxes den
a willowy wraithful
figure loomed.
Buried in the
headlines of the
newspapers
Black and white as the
Daily Mail or The Sun
The bus driver drow the slow
way home.
Among the bright
red London buses
Hidden for a moment
then thrust in time,
ten years to the day
the bus driver passed away
And now merely like a flashback
or a timeslip from the past
The ghost bus
took the long road home.

National Poetry Writing Month Poem No6. The Letter.

The Letter

I wrote him a letter
to say I could not bear no more
to live my life at the end of a rainbow.

I wrote him a letter to
reveal the truth.
Beyond expressions of anger
in the heat of the moment.

I wrote him a letter to empty my head of negative
emotions.
The letter only
voiced a few words
and was sealed
with a final kiss,
stamped
and sent.

National Poetry Writing Month No 5. His first steps

His First Steps

We captured his first steps
on video camera
but I will always remember,
his face, his love, his trust
when he took them for me.

My son, my love, my darling
my child of love, compassion,
my heart in his
his eyes in mine
They were his first steps
for my first time.