Kendal Poetry Festival … Where Next?

Following on from this year’s highly successful Kendal Poetry Festival in February where pandemic related restrictions on live and physical gatherings were overcome using digital technology, co-directors Kim Moore and Clare Shaw are hosting a free afternoon event on June 2nd from 1-4pm, with a stellar line up of writers, activists and organisations asking: ‘Where…

Doggerel for the Discerning

Over at that wonderful organ, The Yorkshire Times, another poem in the ‘Doggerel’ series has surfaced. Last week, the title poem from ‘My Camel’s Name Is Brian’ was front and centre (copy and link below with a favourite photo of Ian McMillan at Tullie House last year), but today we’ve gone for ‘The Thoughtful Little…

Look out for Lonely Pebbles

Another poem in the Doggerel for the Discerning series at The Yorkshire Times … A Happy Ending For Petrologists A pebble sat upon a beach and thought, as would a stone,of whether in the Universe it was a soul alone.For it could see no evidence to otherwise disprovethat rocks had not the wherewithal to think…

Glad to be a Dalek

I won’t deny it, but becoming a dalek, despite a proclivity towards creativity and the arts, has been tricky at times. However, I am glad to be a dalek …

Homework

Dear teacher, I’ve a tale to tellso strange it has no parallel: for as I made my way to school,avoiding kids who act the fool, I had my finished homework doneinside a folder, when someone just knocked me flat and off she ran;this highly muscled jogging gran! My homework sailed into the air,to land upon…

The Heron

I have to say it troubles meto see a heron in a tree;to see it balance on a stickat heights that make you feel quite sick. They have those legs that don’t look strong;that seem too thin and over long.And if a breeze shook up that tree,a sticky end I could foresee. Now if I…

The Gurgle

There’s a place inside our bathroom which is damp and full of gunge;It is where the Urgle Gurgle eats the shampoo, soap and sponge. I’m convinced it’s had Dad’s toothbrush (he’s been brushless for a week),And my plastic duck has disappeared; it went without a squeak. In the spot where Mum’s leg razor was, there’s…

Kiss of the Mummy’s Sister

The zombies scratching at the door, The groans and howls you can’t ignore; Green aliens from outer space, With compound eyes on every face; Some robots with computer brains, That clank and whirr with cogs and chains; Or ghostly ghouls with pallid skin, Which leaves you feeling cold within; These horrors high in scariness, I’d…

Interstellar Wellies

When I was five I got a pair of interstellar wellies;A cosmic present from my Aunty June.In pride of place amongst the gifts of toys and books and jellies,Sat the wellies wrapped in paper from the Moon. For Aunty June was visiting from up there in the stars,Along with Uncle Phil and Cousin Jake.They’d all…

Karmasaurus

I am a little dinosaur;the only one at school.When teachers are not looking,I’m the butt of ridicule. At playtimes I’m not chosenfor games like hide and seek,I often end up by myself,alone and feeling bleak. Sometimes I lose my sandshoesand haven’t got a cluejust why I find them soakingfloating in the cloakroom loo. The bigger…