Dog Walk

Sun shines, cool breeze

Gas work excavations 
Yellow pipes
Snake through the ground 
Peeping through
Muddy holes
With muddled pipes 

A cacophony of cables
Fight for space 
Barriers bar the way
To normal routes 
Cross across the road
Avoiding cars and
Big fat SUV’s
Bossing their way
Through diverted traffic
Gymnastic leg cocks
Defying gravity
Mark the way
To more sniffs
Than can be sniffed at
Such is the canine pleasure 
Familiar roue marred by
Litter, E-fags and cans
From late-night revellers

No doubt at all
Patchwork pavements 
Scarred by men
With picks and shovels
Making holes to bury things
For others to find
And bury again 
Painty sprays make
Mystery marks
Of hidden stuff
That we don’t know 
A lexicon of mystery 
Marks and glyphs
To fade away in time
Just like this walk
Will fade away
In time for a 
Frothy cappuccino 
At my favourite 
Coffee place

Inspired by Ian McMillans daily ditties on TwitX @IMcMillan

25.9.23

Memoir Poems - A Project

I am currently involved in researching a memoir and I am exploring different approaches to the genre. Poetry being just one possible approach. The following are two poems based on memories of visiting my grandma's house on the notorious Liverpool Dock Road.

Bath Street

No baths just cobbles
Long and straight
A slight bend hides the end
It’s Friday night
It’s quiet na silent
Save the cooing of the pigeons
The flap and whoosh of their wings

Deserted except for me
Treading on the cracks
Leaping the paving stones
Lonely walking on my own 
To grandmas house
Number 35 Bath St
The house by the pub 

Warehouses loom high

Leaning in to stare

At the little lonely boy
Walking on his own 
Where yesterday 
Lorry’s chugged 
Piled high with sacks

Of this and that
Horses pulling carts
Striking sparks 
With steel shod hooves
Chomping chaff
In huge nose bags
Waiting stomping feet

There’s the house
Tall and sooty
Stained by smoke and time
The door peeling 
Save the shinny number
35 On the door
I'm here I’m home 

No 35

Cluttered love

The smell of people 

Grandma and Co

Two aunties

Two uncles

A dog and six cats

 

Brown linoleum 

A big black range

A Telly and a radio

That talk all day

Dusty corners 

Sooty cream walls 

Fry up breakfasts

Dripping toast

Tripe and trotters

Bubble and stew

Sunday dinner

Taters and meat

Chopping wood in the cellar 

Me and my mate

By the glow of the light

In the dark of the black

Bogy men hiding 

Well that’s what we think

Play on the olla 

Where once houses stood

Bombsites and bricks

The place where we played 

Footy and tick

And fighting an stuff

Out in the morning 

And back for our tea

Exploring old places

Where once people lived

Finding old photos 

And old broken cups

Home for a scrubbing

With Tide in the bath

Spuds and mince

To fill up my tum 

Off to my bed

With sweet dreams to come

Sleep like a log

With cuddles and love

Rise in the morning 

To corn flakes and milk

Wait for my buddy 

To yodel I’m here