Friday, 27 February 2009

meh haikus

Floorboards underfoot
creak like bones, rotting with age.
Grown old together.

Boring plain black sock,
on to what foot should you go.
Hidden decision.

Thursday, 26 February 2009

a haiku for you

Valleys spray tan booth.
Only two tones on offer,
golden and extreme.

Tuesday, 24 February 2009

haaaaaiiii ---- kkuuuuussss

Watching groups of friends
from my solitary perch.
How my life is spent.

Taxis like trawlers,
as with tides, hauling their catch,
in and out of town.

barlady chick

Approaching towards,
I gaze down at the floor.
This crowded bar,
I'm still the one
holding your attention.
Just once, want to say,
something else for a change.

For a moment a split second
I think that you want me,
just waiting for my order.
No matter how hard I try,
to you I will only ever be
a lonely drunk barfly.

if I was a salmon

Screw all this swimming up river,
I'll just leave my eggs here thanks.
Job done.
'Pint anyone??'

Monday, 23 February 2009


Pretty face, once close.
Walks by, with polite lost wave,
another regret.

Thursday, 19 February 2009

haikus again

Here, deep in my head,
my Fortress of Solitude.
Alone with my thoughts.

Around me life hoots.
Rude, like a Carry On film,
laughing like Sid James.

some more haikus

Walking in nature,
always slow pace, calm senses.
To see all of it.

Forgotten train track,
no longer smooth, rusting rough.
Like a unshaved face.

Soggy muddy browns,
waiting for the right moment.
Bursting to spring greens.

Tuesday, 17 February 2009


This Mountain, too steep.
Camp here, gather fading strength,
lying drunk in road

Monday, 16 February 2009

packed bar

Busy with rugby fans.
Pub, squeezed in,
women force thier way past,
to get to the loo.
Boobs pressed against me,
I dont mind,
nor do they,
from the looks of it.

another haiku

Like a yawning cat,
stretched out across the sofa
and coffee table.

Friday, 13 February 2009

countdown haiku

New Countdown lady,
from your vowels to your bottom,
make my belly fizz

Thursday, 12 February 2009


I am a country bumpkin,
through & through.
I fear nothing,
as I skid my bike,
through a large cow poo.


Damn you clementine,
with your infinite peeling skin.
Nail breaking plith,
gah, citruc juice in my eye.
All this for one of my five a day.

Wednesday, 11 February 2009

another haiku

Spoon scaldingly hot,
left for too long in the mug,
as tea was brewing.

grans death

How my mother broke the news
that my gran was dead.
She shouted up the stairs to me,
as I read, sat on my bed.

Tuesday, 10 February 2009


Loud fart in shower.
Smells so much more than before,
explain that science.

Big bad scary dog.
Slobbering around my groin,
Scared, slightly aroused.

Monday, 9 February 2009

medieval guard

Stuck outside, bored all on my own,
winter chill right through to my bone.
Heat spits out from the lantern torch,
horse rides up to gate, the medieval porch.
'Halt, who goes there?!' I automactically sigh.
'Who said that?' Demands a booming reply.
'Ah its just you, a lowly guard,
Its me, Lord Sir Prince of Chard'.
'State your business, Good Kind Sir.'
'I'm here to see the Princess, to make her purr.'
Clomping off in her scented direction.
Codpiece covering his rattling erection,
dismounting his horse with a loud clang,
ready to mount another to bang.
Later he rides back with a smug grin,
yes, we all heard her filthy wailing din.
Splashing me with mud as he gallops past
again covered in mud, this stain will last.
The joys of the life I lead,
sod it, I'll have another swig of this mead.

Friday, 6 February 2009


Medieval guard, on Sentry duty.
Opening gate to let in those Princes.
To plough the Kings daughter.

Thursday, 5 February 2009

sweaty feet

.ScrapYard Feet.
Socks pulled off. Sweaty.
Across floor, coins stick to feet.
like scrap yard magnet.

snow haiku

Snow crunches down, like
polystyrene packaging
from a new TV.

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

rude man

'Oi, Barkeep,
I'll have a guinness
and a guinness and black.
Which ones the black?'

'The one thats got a
cock drawn on the top.'

female student archaeologist

Student woman in trench,
digging up archaeology.
I should be looking at
that Roman vase.
But i cant stop looking
down your top.


Pub decor range in
many browns, blur into one,
as i down more drinks.

Snowflake angrily
bangs hard against the window.
Like a Bumble bee.

Monday, 2 February 2009


Holding hands tightly,
perfect fit, like machine cogs.
Never wearing down.


Petite stunning woman,
with your small ickle ears.
I'll buy your drinks all night
as long as i get
to rub your earlobes.


Slippers on feet, tight
and seem to pinch. No wonder!
On wrong way around.