A flat tyre
Raises family ire
Can’t you fix it?
I don’t know.
Bloody modern motors
No spare wheel.
A dig in the foot well
Reveals
A poxy pump
And a bottle of goo
Which has to do
And they call this progress.
Tag: Poem
London’s New Year
Firework Show
Must have cost
A lot of dough
Spent in a flash
On a bang and a crash
Public money
Up in smoke.
But like the Olympics
It gives us hope
An amazing show
Which lifted the spirits
Big Ben bonging
And firing a broadside
The London Eye blazing
Great Catherine wheels
The sky full of sprays
And booming flowers
For ten priceless minutes
The London skyline
And everyone watching
Was lit up by firework showers.
Tramping to the shops
Passing old dog haunts
I natter with a dog lady.
Her Yorkie bitten,
‘It’s not the dogs it’s their owners’
We conclude.
Tramping back
Friendly paws climb my jeans.
Never mind,
They needed washing, I lie.
Leaving the park
Another woman asks
Where’s your dog?
Popped his clogs I say
And we natter of furry friends.
Too much responsibility she says.
Hmmm, I reckon I’ll get another,
In about seven years
When the kids don’t need walking any more.
We laugh.
Dogs get you talking
Even when they’ve gone.
Christmas wrapping
Reveals
Star Wars toys,
To small boy’s joy.
R2D2 warps time.
That was me too
Thirty five years ago.
Midweek fixture
Mild and misty
Floodlights blaze
Across green baize
Buzz of anticipation
Feisty crowd
Chanting and waving
Whistle blows
Mid-table foes
Huff and puff
Goalmouth scrambles
Fans up, fans down
Sitting and standing
Oohs and Ahhs
Ebbs and flows
Away goals
Set us jumping
Then a rapid comeback
Rouses the locals
Even stevens
Until the last ten minutes
Become a thriller
An 89th minute goal
Is the killer
Which lifts the roof
For us, the visitors
A happy ending.
Heavy burdens were carried lightly (see below) and a cracking mid-table dust-up took our minds off everything else. There is a magic about a night match, there’s something about the floodlights and cold night air. A cracker.
Achilles & Aristotle 