Minimalist poet, minimalist lifestyle

I've just been doing a bit of weeding and pruning in the garden and noticed that my 'Glory of the Snow' bulbs are already showing signs of sprouting. I don't know how I feel about this; pleased because I'll be able to enjoy a bit of colour in the garden come December, or sad because it marks the onset of the beginning of autumn.

DIRECTIVE

Please note:

As of October 1st.
The Imperial unit
Of measurement, the worm
Will be replaced by
Its metric equivalents,
The millipede and centipede.

Thank you.

One of the main problems I personally have with modern capitalism is that there is too much consumer choice, much of it superfluous.

I suppose one advantage about being unemployed and on a limited income is that I don't need to participate in this pointless ritual. I merely purchase the least expensive food (frequently out of date) and shop for clothing in charity shops.

Naturally, I'm immune to the effects of advertising, aren't I?

AMERICANS

Herts. van hire
Gogh away!

Sidewalking crabs
On the john.

Downtown,
Janet buys
Burghers to go.

I've not had my daily fix of chocolate yet, I'll have to get some later. It's my only addiction, I truly believe that my body can't go more than forty eight hours without the stuff though.

MAUDLIN

Mark a Christian
In the box provided,
In case of a tie
All bets are off!

Meanwhile,
At the Magistrates' Court
A tie-breaker, only
Just arrested
Pulls rank on the ward.

"You're all sacred!"
She yelled out loud
And spoiled her paper,
Drawing a crowd.

There's been nothing to watch on TV over the bank holiday weekend, not even a Bond film; so I've just been spending hours on end surfing the net

In one sense, getting online at home has literally opened up the world for me, yet in another sense it depresses me to learn how much of everything there's out there and I'm not a part of it [yet].

It was interesting to listen to live radio from Louisiana as Hurricane Katrina hit though.

SKINNY DIPPING

Beneath
the surface,
we're all
the bleeding
same.

It's recently been reported that the owners of a farm in The Midlands that breeds guinea pigs for medical research have been forced to stop this perfectly legal activity because of intimidation and attacks by animal rights terrorists.

Where are the organs of state when it comes to protecting the farm and its employees or prosecuting the guilty?

Terrorism is still terrorism, wherever we find it, and whatever the politics or religion of its perpetrators and supporters.

TO AND FRO

Smothered; strong
Fingers pull apart the night,
Thighs align with the lay,
Chocolate drips from lips
I tongue the foraging day.

Behind closed doors:
Cloud draped sisters
Call across the moor,
Contours howl and
All the wild's a watercolour.

Today's a Bank Holiday, never an easy time when you're unemployed - I just feel more lonely and isolated than usual.

Why can't the government operate a scheme to encourage (or even coerce) people in my circumstances to be able to work today whilst everyone else is off enjoying themselves? Of course, with the benefits system as it is, nothing will ever happen.

Personally I'm in favour of a 'social wage' system whereby just by being an adult citizen you are entitled to a set basic weekly subsistence allowance irrespective of your employment status...naturally, payment of all current benefits would be scrapped.

Then it's up to you as an individual; you'd be taxed on whatever you earn at a flat rate. Hopefully this system would personally take myself out of the benefits trap whereby I've got to secure pretty much a full-time job or remain stuck on benefits...not that I've had any offers of part-time or temporary work though.

THE THINKER

He would only eat
Grapes at a minute
To midnight,
Spitting out the pips
As the time signal
Heralded the hour.

RECCE

If it rhmes,
Shoot it!

Better safe
Than Ralph.

After this morning's rather depressing blog entry I thought I'd write something a bit more cheerful - another short list of things that bring me pleasure or make me happy.

1...Reading the Sunday newspaper (usually the Sunday Times.)
2...Soaking in a hot bath.
3...Going to bed knowing that I'll thankfully usually be fortunate enough to have a good night's sleep.

UNEMPLOYED PERSON

I do it
Just to
Please
The boss.

I'll admit I cried a bit last night: a Saturday night and I'm at home on my own with nowhere to go and no-one I'm able to call on the phone...I usually pop round to a friend's house and we watch videos, but he's away working at a music festival this bank holiday weekend.

Oh how I need someone to have a bit of faith in me; to take me by the hand and invite me to join the rest of the human race.

I've never had a job, never had a relationship with anyone....I once attended a few sessions with a psychologist and she summised that I was one of the sanest people she'd ever met; having all of the answers to my problems in life, but none of the solutions.

As I perceive the situation, the two main things that define us as an individual and bring purpose to our lives are participating in an intimate relationship with someone and having a job which brings you status and money...no matter how lowly your job might appear to be, you're still included in society...that's more than I've ever been.

For relatively short periods of time a person can manage, yet struggle, when either of these crucial elements is missing from his life; but to have lived to be forty three years old and never having had the experience of either is not to live as a human being but to merely survive as a homo sapiens. The enforced loneliness and social exclusion; the feelings of uselessness, inadequacy and guilt and the unsympathetic attitudes of others...well, it just make me cry sometimes.

I suppose that in a small way though, writing this blog is helping me by allowing me to share my thoughts with other people.

ROMBALD'S MOOR STONE CIRCLE

Twelve Apostles:
Six factors
Six clockwise revolutions,
Enter by the south
Exit by the north:
Absolution.

Yesterday I received a magazine/newsletter containing five of my short poems: not a very impressive publication, more like a parish magazine than anything literary.

But it's always nice to see my name in print and knowing that people (probably not very many in this case) are seeing my work.

HOME IS...

Kitchenshrunk always wrapped her emotions in clingfilm. Preserve them, keep them fresh; but also squash them, flatten them, distort them.
Her hands were those of a worker, all fingers still intact; but bloodied at the edges, nails bitten (rather than chipped) and callouses erupting from Sunday best palms.
On her left hand her lifeline had long since gone off the rails, spinning two or three times round her thumb and then seeking refuge deep within the scar on her wrist that was a constant reminder of several failed suicide attempts and one fewer failed marriages.

I regularly travel on the buses here in Doncaster and am continually annoyed at the lack of ticketing co-ordination.

Personally I use the services of four of the six bus companies operating in the town and end up having to purchase all day tickets with a variety of names, prices and validity.

If I'm just making a return trip to one destination it's fine and I save money; but if I want to travel out of town to two destinations in opposite directions (served by different operators) I have to buy separate tickets; costing me a fortune.

The government is always telling us to use public transport, some of us don't have a choice; but it's no surprise that those with access to a car stay well clear of the buses.

PETRIFIED

Out of earshot
We dance to the
Rhythm of the rain,
Our audience
Turned to stone.

IS THIS IT?

Night follows day:
Day follows night.
And then what?

Several years ago I used to go hiking on the moors nearly every weekend with a small group of friends.
Unfortunately they've now left the area and I haven't done any serious hiking since then.

Anyhow, I placed a posting on the Doncaster Forum and have already had few replies. As a result of one of these I've contacted a local group and am now waiting for membership details in the mail...I'd prefer just a small informal group of people to be honest, because I'm worried about the cost of membership...and these formally constituted groups always seem to plan their walks around visits to pubs (yet more expense, or you eat your sandwiches outside and you're not fully participating on the social side of things: one of the main reasons for joining.)

I hope it's a serious group with other unemployed members and that things work out for me. I don'y drive and so I'll be relying on lifts or publis transport; but at least I live in the town centre.

SWASTIKA STONE (Ilkley Moor)

Cloud-clothed moor;
Only two at the feast
Game here aplenty
But still they shoot
The beast.

Shouting at Gaelic
Swearing on time
Running at contours
This land still is mine!

I don't know yet if I'm coming down with a fever or something, but I was constantly shivering last night; I just couldn't get warm and so had to switch on the electric fire for a couple of hours.

Being a hay fever sufferer I'm used to constantly streaming eyes and a runny nose, but if this is the flu then the shivering and the muscle aches are an additional unpleasantness to endure.

PILGRIM

Standing aside
The Greenwich Meridian;
His compass still
Pointing magnetic north.

MOORLAND PUB

The sun:
A circular saw.

The horizon:
An ancient beam.

Inside:
Time cuts
To the bone.

1...Time spent with family and friends.
2...Travelling or going somewhere with a purpose, whatever the means of tranport.
3...Pleasant, and unexpected, surprises.
4...Visiting my family and enjoying eating a traditional English lunch cooked by my mum.
5...The sound of someone calling my name, irrespective of the circumstances.
6...Not always having to be on my own; being involved, participating and contributing - making a difference, no matter how small.
7...The taste, aroma, texture and appearance of chocolate; the darker, the better.

SLIP OF THE TONGUE

A snake enters
A railway tunnel,
Underneath an
Erupting volcano.

At a safe distance,
A teenage boy
Plays guitar.

The weather forecast for today seems quite promising, so it looks like there'll be plenty of play at Trent Bridge later. The fourth test is critical; England needing to win at least one of the remaining two test matches in order to win back The Ashes.

I love watching cricket. I can lose myself for an entire day, obsessively studying the tactics and monitoring the statistics. Of course, the one question you really shouldn't ask to a cricket fan is, 'Who's winning?'. Ask me the score and that's fine; but as to who's actually winning...well, I might not know until the very last ball of the game.

GETTING THERE

Losing conversation
I rushed around
The stones for the
Sixth (and last) time.

My companion
Didn't understand;
I didn't try
To explain.

At the next cairn
I forgot to add a stone;
Merely contributing
Lively debate and pointing
To the quickest way home.

Since I signed up to register for the Telephone Preference Service I've noticed that I'm now receiving far fewer unwanted telemarketing calls. This is a relief because it was getting really annoying being disturbed by up to half a dozen calls a day; the silent ones being the most annoying of all.

LATER HOME

Arrivals and departures
Already bored with nowhere to go
(Nothing to do with me)
Been everywhere, done everything
Worn out the tee shirt.

Sitting, cupped in plastic
Cupping plastic in my hands
Steaming hot tea; patience.

An hour to kill
On timetables and notices
Of weekend engineering work:
Why don't don't they hang poetry,
Or poets here?

The train's late
And I've just realised
I'm the only one alone here;
Everyone escorts their shadow home -
I curse my empty flat
Which will still be empty
When I get back home.

Stitches of conversations
Hold the seconds together
Make the passage of time linear;
A paperback novel, embossed cover
On the inside pages I take cover
Behind the wrong cue.

I watched a very interesting documentary on TV last night, presented by the newsreader Michael Buerk entitled 'What Are Men For?' The simple premise of the programme was that the whole of society, family, work, culture and, from his point of view in particular, the media, has become feminised, leaving men merely existing as nothing more than 'optional extras' in many circumstances.

A woman gains status and recognition in society by being the person she actually is; mother, wife, daughter, homemaker, carer, even an object of desire [yes].

However, a man is perceived by others by what he achieves, what job he does, how wealthy he is and what material possessions he can flaunt.

Of course, I'm an unemployed man...in fact, not just unemployed, I've never had a [paid] job due to the total collapse of the local economy when I was looking for my first job as a school-leaver...you can imagine how these personal circumstances have ruined my life.

At the moment being male isn't easy; as a man I don't know what is expected from me by society and what I'm supposed to do.

DANDELION

One small insect
On the launchpad;
How much further to
The stars from here?

Whilst out shopping this morning I bumped into two friends. I only had time to exchange a few lines of conversation with each of them, but this small contact with a familiar part of the rest of humanity has really got my day off to a good start.

MORE AND MISSED

The Devil's weather;
No horizon on which
To tether a thought,
Tendering loose change
The sun hangs out
Eight till late.

A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE

It's a good job
That it's so
Difficult to
Draw a five
Sided star.

I've had no major disasters with my computer so far, in fact it's working very efficiently at the moment: fewer problems booting up with MSN Messenger installed and I'm even learning how to more effectively utilise the program - I still occasionally get my left and right clicks confused though.

I'm spending a lot of time listening to internet and international radio stations; mainly news and talk programmes and Latin American dance music...all perfectly clear reception, unlike all the years I spent listening to short-wave.

GHOST STORY

It was useless attempting to escape; all exits were blocked, timesealed or limescaled for the duration. She was desperate, panicking her head from side to side, pulling down the blinds over her light-sensitive eyes, pushing her fingers in all directions.

Space is always a compromise; too much and you're lost, too little and you'll never get out - but Mealtime's predicament was unique: her half-full glass had now become half-empty and the clock was ticking.

She sat in the corner of a Champagne bubble which was steadily sinking to the surface tension. Her headache was lighter than air, her IQ half way to Tipperary but she still couldn't work out how to open the fridge door.

Last night I was watching an old episode of Sherlock Holmes on the TV starring Jeremy Brett, who happens to do my absolute favourite portrayal of the great fictional detective; continually snarling and sniping whilst accentuating some of the less obvious traits in the personality of Holmes.

His vanity, mood swings, hypochondria, drug addiction, latent homosexuality, and mysogyny are exploited to the full by Brett. And the relationships with Doctor Watson and Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper...Holmes' unrelenting sarcasm and bullying existing within these two close friendships.

And, of course, the subdued wry comedy in the series; expressed especially well in Holmes' being shown to be terrified of the female sex...overall, the show is great fun to watch and I could study every facial expression and vocal inflection several times over and still find something new to make me smile.

ORTHODOXY

Naked;
Only a penknife,
She cuts a slit
In the milk carton,
Holds it to her lips
And drinks...
Until sated.

Yesterday I spent an hour or so just sitting in the garden. Not doing anything; not reading, not listening to the radio - and certainly not weeding.

I was just sitting there in my deckchair admiring the sun streaming through the hollyhocks. Very spectacular specimens; ten foot tall with up to a dozen large rosette-like flowers simultaneously in bloom on each spike.

They are now probably a couple of weeks beyond their best display and look a bit untidy due to wind damage. However, my dahlias and fuchsias are putting on their best shows at the moment and might well both be in flower come the end of October.

FIXTURE

Game on;
Hard luck
Hard on
Cherry on
The top.

DEAL

Loose change
From a kiss:
Sometimes
Emotion
Negotiates
Its own price.

One of the joys of a Sunday is reading the Sunday newspaper (or, should I say, reading some of the paper and leaving the magazines and supplements for later in the week.)

In today's Sunday Times there's a report about a plan to introduce women-only taxis and segregated compartments on trains. It doesn't surprise me.

Some people don't seem to understand the concept of equality before the law; that any law should be applied equally to everyone irrespective of gender [or race].

Of course, being an Englishman in England I'm no-one's priority and am at the bottom of everyone's list when it comes to accessing benefits or services, or attempting to participate in, and contribute to, society.

And then there's the constant ridicule of men in the media and the fact that I can't even identify myself as English on most ethnic monitoring forms...just to mention two recent observations.

If you're English, male, white, northern and law-abiding in England in 2005 you just don't count...nobody wants to know!

GREENKEEPER

Even if I were on piecerate
Maybe I'd still divert
Around the crocuses.

BALANCE SHEET

Closed in a kiss
The day sleeps
Contentedly.

Yesterday I was quite busy sending and receiving emails and instant messaging with family and friends. It really lifts me to hear from people; it may be only a few lines on a computer screen, but someone has taken the time to write them, and to send them to me - and that means a lot.

AFTER THE PARTY

My face is lying in the wastebin
Wrapped in a tissue of lies.

My dinner languishes in the cabinet
Being eaten by files.

My body lies over the ocean
Good travel agents insist on insurance.

This morning I was walking out of Kwiksave, carrying two heavy bags and a full rucksack of groceries and I found a woman in a large, powered wheelchair blocking my way. I just said something sarcastic to her to express my displeasure and managed to squeeze by.

This incident is typical behaviour for me, I always treat people as I find them. It doesn't mean that I'm rude or inconsiderate towards disabled people - I spent several years doing voluntary work, working with and helping disabled people. But what it does mean is; if I come across someone who's behaviour is causing inconvenience to others (myself included) I will tell them...whether they're in a wheelchair or not.

PARLEY

She speaks
In tongues;
French kissing
The dictionary.

LOVE STORY

Tongue in cheek
They kissed,
Lips burning
With disinfectant.

Yesterday was a lovely day here in Doncaster and so I did a couple of hours gardening, in particular pruning back my buddleia bush - a beautiful bush with a profusion of purple blossom which attracts many butterflies into my garden.

The only problem with buddleia though is how quickly it grows; ten foot per season: and so I have to prune it back to ground level every year, placing the pruned foliage into my wheelie bin because the local council doesn't [yet] operate a garden waste collection service.

For a few months now though the council has been operating a general re-cycling scheme; glass, newspapers and tin cans are to be put into a green plastic box which residents are then to place on the pavement outside their houses...to be emptied at some time later in the day.

I've decided not to participate in this scheme, for two reasons:-

1) The authorities only seem to acknowledge my existence when they want something from me, or for me to do something for them.

2) The fact that if I were to have a green box (full or empty) outside my front door it would inform any potential burglar that there's no-one at home. I live alone and there's no-one to take in the empty box.

FIRST CLASS MAIL

Sunday morning,
Only the rain is calling.

No I.D. needed...
I know her simile
Intimately.

She moves in closer,
Envelopes the mist;
licks her lips and
Then my stamp.

Still half asleep
I remind her
There are no
Deliveries today.

This morning I've received a rejection letter for some poems that I submitted to a magazine. It's not a setback for me though, it frequently happens (as does my receiving letters of acceptance) and so I won't worry about it.

It could be that the poems submitted weren't good enough; equally likely is that they just might have not fitted the personal preferences of the editor, or weren't suitable or appropriate material or subject matter for the magazine concerned.

Ideally, I'd like to able to do research on publications before sending off work, but I can't afford to be subscribing to numerous smallpress magazines. In this instance the internet certainly helps.

RITES OF SPRING

I'm so romantic.
I've often wanted to bring
You fresh-faced flowers, leave notes
Under your pillow, or
Stuck to the fridge door.

I'm so romantic.
Many's the time I've almost
Bought boxed chocolates, a bottle
Of wine, an unexpected
Girl's best friend. But didn't.

I'm so romantic.
Surely I've thought about it
Surprising you at the kitchen sink,
It's so much more fun with two
To pull your stomach in.

I'm so romantic.
Love on the Dole, shared April showers
Crushed petals hand in hand
A packet of three, two-thirds
Unused. Something left unplanned.

I've just received an email from an old friend who I haven't seen in years; he's responded to a posting I placed on a local forum. That's the best thing about the internet; how it can bring people together.

On a totally unrelated subject; I'm fealing a lot better after my piles bled last night.

ORDER OF PLAY

You told me
You loved me;
Then left me.

I walked out
Through the door -
Closing it first.

GENESIS

In the beginning
Eve was the apple
of her father's eye.

I've just been watching BBC NEWS 24 and noticed on one of the reports a microphone with the words 'BBC Brazil' emblazoned on it. Why on earth should this be; don't they have any radio services in Brazil; and more pertinently, who's paying for it?

On pain of imprisonment I'm compelled to pay a licence fee of £126 per year to the BBC (an organisation that denegrates and denies everything that I am and believe in) yet people in Brazil get to watch for free...and they aren't abused in the way that we are in Britain.

I've finally received some post this morning; a collection of poetry from T.. in Harrogate, a fellow student on the Writer development Programme. Haven't looked at the poems, but they should keep me away from the computer screen for a few hours.

SAFETY FIRST

Light the litmus paper
Step back to a safe distance:
If passion still fails to ignite
Phone home for a refund.

There's no need to return
To point of purchase -
Your money-back guarantee
Is included in the smallprint
Spoken on your lover's breath.

I'm planning to spend today volunteering, but I'm not very enthusiastic. On Wednesday, S....(one of the other volunteers, female, 62) was nearly crying because she was physically knackered - for the past week she's been going in every day helping with the renovation; somedays starting at 6:30 in the morning and not finishing until
after ten o'clock at night.

Like myself, she wants to get the new premises ready in time for the first training session next week; but she's making herself ill!

NOTICEBOARD

Border meeting
Dormitory town
Sleeping dogs
Lying around.

Time and tide
Kinky sex
Head over heals
Mum knows best.

Even for me, it's unusual to go a week and half without receiving any post/mail. If it wasn't for the fact that items addressed to previous occupants of the house (which I immediately throw in the bin) are arriving through the letterbox, I think I would have contacted the sorting office by now.

Incidently, the sorting office in Doncaster, which used to be conveniently situated next to the railway station is now located on an out-of-town industrial estate which isn't served by public transport.

MIRROR IMAGES

Here sits an hour ago
Keeping that which goes together
Across the word and place the faith
Leave time behind in silent shadow.

Sun translations of the Bible
Bogotry on sale/return
Knowing what I mean to honour
Headquarters you win, but learn.

I've decided not to go to the salsa dancing class; basically I can't afford it. Sometimes it's easier to have a decision made for you, as in this case.

I think I would have felt uncomfortable going into an unfamiliar environment on my own and so I've chickened out.

TAKE YOUR PICK

Hire bridges, fallen arches
Spurning longdead riverbeds
Dried pramwheels, pressed timepieces
Rusty cans and bonedead legs
Stagnant pools, deodorised arms
Rainbowed with oil and watercolours.

INVITATION ONLY

Black bandaged night
Mother's milk
Overhung parties
Lost on the moors:
Smooth as silk.

Shadowless conversation
Unexorcised guests,
Games for poaches;
You can gues the rest.

I've just arrived home from a day's volunteering and I'm absolutely knackered. We've been busy re-decorating the new offices; we being the volunteers - the paid workers hardly lifted a finger. This is nothing new; they know we volunteer because we want to get out of the house and become part of something that is bigger than ourselves...and so they let us 'get on with it.'

INSTRUCTIONS FOR USE

This is a pre-recorded loony bin
All emotions are to be pre-sorted
Ready for re-cycling.

manic episodes are to be parcelled up
And weighed into bundles of ten kilograms each.

Depressed moments are best
Compressed in order to save space.

Alcoholic binges must be placed
Into the correct receptacle
Approximating to colour.

Any persons with godlike tendencies
Please use the disposable gloves provided.

All other waste products
Should be left at home
Where they will be periodically
Taken away by the relevant authorities.

We thank you for your
Co-operation and do hope you
Enjoy your stay.

I'm going in to Thorne today to help with the decorating of the new office. It's only across the precinct from the old premises and so at least we'll not need the removal men.

LOVERS

In the dead
Heat of night
Their fingers
Slowly draw lots.

???

I miss you:
But I miss
You more
When you're
Still here.

Received a reply to my posting in the Doncaster Forum for a female dancing partner. the email actually came from a male dancing teacher who says that they're desperate for men in his salsa class.
I might as well go along and see what happens. At least I'm using the internet to make real life contact with people.

HAIKU

Carefully folding clean sheets:
Downstairs, only white notes on the piano.

HAIKU

Evening lightning;
The drawn sabre
At arm's length.

HAIKU

Aconites gathered
around the oak tree:
within sight of the stones
small children counting
only odd numbers.

As far as I can recall, if I don't receive anything through the letterbox this morning, it will have been an entire week without any mail...junk mail included. Surely a sign of social isolation.

However, in comparison, a couple of weeks ago I signed up online for the Telephone Preference Scheme and that doesn't seem to be effective yet: I'm still getting the phone calls from India from people with obviously Indian accents pretending they're called Kevin or Jenny...or whatever.

It's a sad world.

RUNNING ORDER

Suspicion
is the carrion
of slaves,
the handset of
the newest mindset,
a brush fire with conversation,
hedged bets down country lanes,
control freaked out of every situation:
a fringe recently parted to the left.

Just returned from visiting my parents. the visit went well, but the vibration I had to endure whilst spending over ninety minutes on the bus has aggravated my piles.

I should get some relief from a hot bath tonight, but I really need is for them to bleed and then I'll get at least two months without them bothering me.

Thanks to Phil for the comments about my poems; I think you should post some of yours on your blog...I haven't read that many of them myself.

SALVATION

Golf clubs full
Of gleeing girls
And sparring spouses.

Gentler than men
Hormones severally
Reclining.

Keepsakes of emotion
Writing wrongs for these
Chapters in the round.

I've learned nothing:
I blow my nose
On a sleeve with
Colour painted on.

Today I'll visit my parents for a few hours; they live in Thurnscoe, a former pit village eight miles away and the bus service to there (especially on a Sunday) isn't very good.

Fortunately they're both still quite healthy, regularly cycling quite long distances and walking in the beautiful countryside nearby.

LA FEMME

A symmetry of halfmoons:
I taste the first month
Not bitter, not sweet
No pips on the hour.

A tropical crop,
No discernible seasons:
You could devise party
Games using only citrus fruit.

FIRST LOVE

Cut glass flowers
And urinate in
The vase.

Dirty language
Washed up on
A distant shore.

Crap on the
Union Jack;
In the backroom
Boys it's a
Closed shop.

A friend from Scunthorpe visited me today; the visit had already been arranged a couple of weeks ago and so didn't come as a surprise. It's always nice to have visitors though.

BLEEDING HEART

The letter which
She held to her bosom
Was sharper than
She'd imagined
And incorrectly
Addressed.

FORECAST

Today it is snowing:
The postman will only
Bring white envelopes.

Last night, at a friend's house, watched 'The Tit and the Moon' a film directed by Bigas Luna...I really enjoy foreign language cinema: they don't have all the hang-ups that we have. Of course, they've got more interesting/spectacular landscapes to utilise.

Thanks to Shimon for posting the positive comment about my poetry.....here's some more.

BECOME SIMPLY

First inner things
Extricate continuity.

Eventually thoughts
Patience a sixgun.

And finally it was
Peopled somehowwear.

Heaven probably
Loves the fleeting.

COMMERCIAL DECISION

In the shops
The January sales
Didn't start
Until December
Last year.

Just got bach from Thorne where M... took some photos for me. I've managed to upload a couple into my profile; but I might as well put the other two in this blog.

SERVICE

His dashboard was empty
So he came to a full-stop
Just short of the garage.

On his car radio
It was free airtime
For his well punctuated
tyres and tested.

PUSHED OFF

By 10:30
He was published
And was asked
To leave by
The barman.

His friends tossed
To take him home,
He slept alone
In continental
Syllables.

It's getting to be annoying; my computer is functioning efficiently...apart from Messenger, that is. Some times it boots up fine, others it just freezes; sometimes an error message, others not.

Booted up first time this morning though. A day away from the computer today; I'm volunteering at the charity at Thorne; I'll be able to monitor the cricket score via desktop scorecard though.

IMPROVISED LINES

I like your well-read suspender belt
with the pink carnations on,
and the glistening wet
sunset between your thighs.

I dream of your seaweed-stretched body
smiling; naked on the shettsilk sand.

I enjoy the gentle touch of hand on brush
slowly stroking the taut-pulled skin.

But I am continually aware of your presence
by your absence
like the kiss-sealed envelope you gave me
last Christmas
only to be opened in the event of my
untimely death.

No, not anything exciting like a party; just stayed up late to watch first three episodes of new drama series 'Lost.' It's quite good; intriguing and weird/mysterious in a sort of 'Twin Peaks' way.

Anyhow, the weather's fine here; although the forecast for old trafford isn't so good..but we should get some play.

TOWNSCAPE

Lean lamp-post
Tripwire shadow
Across the road.

Oneway conversation
Approaching the roundabout
Opposite to the library
Earshot of gearshift.

'Britain in Bloom'
Mobile phone handsets
Are now too small
For digging any deeper
Than a first date.

First week in October
The weather doesn't know
Whether to wear a coat
Or just a jacket
- On friday night though
Cleavage, nipples and navels
Ought to be icons
On the Met Office charts.

Had a short visit from my brother; the computers at the library are offline and he needed to kill thirty minutes before catching the bus.Handed him the print- outs of comments of Thurnscoe forum for our parents to read (he still lives with parents).

BODY LANGUAGE

Speaking on the phone
She wasn't sure whether
He'd breathed merely a colon
Or extended her a full-stop.

GULF

"Mummy, put the light on,
It's too dark in here:
I want to be born today-
My horoscope says so."

Managed to establish link between this blog and my postings on the Doncaster forum; so I'm beginning to establish an online personality/identity.

Nothing much planned for today; should have been visiting parents in Thurnscoe, but they've got other commitments. Anyhow, looking forward to third test (cricket) starting tomorrow.

PROOFREADING

The man receives a letter
The man is blind.

The blind man opens his letter
He cannot close his ears.

VISITING HOURS

The crack
In the plaster
A few inches longer
Than this time
Last week.

Well, no problems when signing on today; they were running ten minutes late and were very apologetic.

Feeling good about two new mentions on the internet and three more poems being accepted by a magazine.

I keep on searching the web looking for some local contacts to somehow engage with the rest of the human race, but nothing yet. Apparently all of nine people have so far at least looked at an ad I placed for a dancing partner.

MORE POEMS

HAIKU

another sleepless night
wearing lambswool
next to my naked skin

COMINGS & GOINGS

On the front lawn
A snowman melts.

In the front room
A teenager slowly rehearsing
His first kiss.

Went to the market this morning and managed to pick up another Bigas Luna film; 'The Tit and the Moon'. I've already seen it, but it's great fun...erotic flatulence, flamenco-dancing bikers and a young lad obsessed with breasts. I've also got quite a collection of Pedro Almodovar films now.

MORE POEMS

COSMETIC SURGERY

The day after
Her nose job
She blew it
And I ejaculated.

HAIKU

early to bed;
snowed in instead
of visiting her grave

HAIKU

sleepless night -
still unopened,
your birthday kiss

Due to sign on today; after 25 years of permanent unemployment, as I tell them at the DSS, I'm either very good at jobsearch (I've been doing it for so long) or totally hopeless (never found a job.)

MORE POEMS

HAIKU

Midwinter:
Stars blossoming
On the cherry tree.

HAIKU

Last night
I dreamed
I was dreamed.

Last night was at my mate's in Balby and he's agreed to take some photos for this blog and for my email submissions of poetry.

Being male, I'll no longer be able to masquerade as a radical lesbian poet any more!

Since I've been online I've I've only written one poem...here it is.

THE CANDIDATE

I disturb the table by sitting on it,
Cooler here, against my back
A rough blade sharpens
Towards morning windows.

My arm, raked back and forth
Pushing outwards into the pain;
In the rapier of light
Between slightly open curtains
I play furiously against my wrists
And listen to the well-rehearsed break
Of a blank page.

AS it says in the title, due to unemployment and the lack of money and social isolation, I find myself writing minimalist poetry and living a minimalist lifestyle here in Doncaster. I'm only online at home because a I'm the recipient of a £500 bursary to pay my internet bills and bus fares to attend the Yorkshire Arts Circus Writer development Programme.

Just been posted the first copy of their inhouse magazine YACYAC and it's okay I suppose.

Anyhow, who am I? Well, I'm male, aged 43, live in Doncaster and have been writing for 18 years now; published all over the web as well as in dozens of smallpress magazines. Sorry it's only a brief summary, but but details will emerge in subsequent blog entries.

It's lonely writing poetry without feedback (most of the writers at YAC at Castleford are novelists or playwrights) so I'd certainly appreciate comments and suggestions.

A. LEE FIRTH

***********

AND NOW SOME POEMS

GREEN POEM
This morning,
I bought a dozen light bulbs
To plant in the garden.

DIARY ENTRY
The shop that sells calendars
Only opens six days a week.

The owner of the shop that sells clocks
Has no plans to open twenty four hours a day.

Can't I copy and paste into this blog?