plop

 plop

the prince in every childhood is a frog

popping up everywhere and nowhere 

jumping in surprise 

both the child and the frog

stare in bemusement 

but i like you 

i do

but i have to go now

dinner is ready

and mum is calling

quick quick 

plop

RS Thomas’s white washed cottage

 RS Thomas’s white washed cottage

the white washed words

that slipped a finger pointing out 

how god could have written it

but passed the understanding 

to the wind’s night 

to the tree’s cold root-stone

when the silence spoke

his pen whistled 

now and then a word spun

and he smiled a frown

and wrote it down

for us in black on white

leaving the gate swinging

haughty

 haughty 

a quiver

above the river a spider

torn between the corn

and the flow 

a fine strand of a sun web

catches a dream’s meandering 

on the hillside a castle

out at sea a boat

now where was i 

about to cast this stone

into the thread of thought

aught i be naughty

just saying

 just saying

the king and queen arrive at royal ascot 

the king’s grandson starts at eton 

just saying

my late father left school at fourteen

an intelligent man left uneducated

just saying 

my ancestors fought for this land

then i’ll fight you for it

he said

i’m just saying

which one

there dad ~ i told them

on reading a poem about james joyce

 on reading a poem about james joyce 

remember barley sugar

those sticks of platted sunshine 

licked in a childhood’s passing

well this poem is 

that stick of platted sunbeams 

licked through the flickering leaves 

of past smiles smeared my dear

by the sweet blear of tears

that read me

whirled cup

 whirled cup

the world cup runneth over

surely oh my goodness and mediocrity 

will bore me all the days of my strife

and i will dwell in the house of

oh my good lord not another match

forever

social mediocrity

 social mediocrity 

when a post invites me

to do this or that

i never do

this or that

and that’s a fact

when a post does not

invite me to do 

this or that

i always find i want to reply

with a poem 

about this or that

a poem that was not a fact

but in reply 

it was