I was in Iceland (the supermarket) today and noticed a sign which read:
'Everything in this freezer, £1'.

Of course, it should have read:
'Anything in this freezer, £1'.

This grammatical mistake couldn't be blamed on the local staff; it was obviously marketing material produced by head office. I wonder though what the legal situation would be if I were to empty the entire contents of the freezer into a trolley and only offer to pay £1 at the checkout?

BROADENING THE MIND

Unzipping a smile;
The stopping train stops
But there isn't a station.

I think I know her,
But not her name.

I know the name
Of the next station though.

It's now the second week of the political party conference season and there's still next week to face yet. The speeches are broadcast live on all the news channels; I find it all so bloody tedious...I'm glad I can get news from alternative sources on the internet though: there's actually so much happening elsewhere in the world.

MOONLIGHT RENDEZVOUS

The come-on
From a thousand stars;
But every night
I rehearse my lines
In her bed.

It's Thursday morning again, and since Saturday night I haven't spoken to a soul, apart from shop workers and bureaucrats. My only social contact seems to be via the internet and the occasional phone call. Surely there must be more to life than this mere existence? I'm 43 years old, healthy and intelligent, not a housebound pensioner. I need a life; surely there's something...

WITHOUT GUILT

I stand naked
In the cold and rain.

They throw coins at me;
I do not count them.

The favourites list on my computer:

Live News
Languages
Blogs
Radio Stations
Magazines
Newspapers
Earth Sciences
Geography
Forums
Travel

THE MAN WITH NO SHADOW

In the middle of a crowd
It's desert,
Rush hour clouds
Abandoned.

He'd despise them all,
Their lives, burdened
With hope and ambition
And 'might-have-been';
A life-long search for happiness.

He's all alone,
Incommunicado with nature,
Nine to five:
Necessities.

Earlier this morning, for the first time for a few weeks, I went and walked around the secondhand market. I was hoping to pick up a few cheap videos, but the ones on sale cost more than they would on the regular market.

AT THE END OF THE DAY

It's only when
Our health
Is failing
That we begin
To learn Latin.

God must speak
To us all
In mysterious ways
I suppose.

No Yorkshire city ever appears on the BBC national weather map.

On many official forms I don't have the opportunity to identify myself as ethnically English.

Sometimes, it's just the most insignificant of things...

RETROGRADE

There is no calm backwater
Of creviced eyes, of benign shadows;
Somewhere I go back along the way
Sounds conjured up out of nothing more
But memory? Here to stray!

Passersby I haven't yet resurrected
Unacknowledging sighs in country towns
The streets, the shops, the promenading years
A state of mind. Unsound. Unfound. Dumbfound!

The last time I stood here
The houses, kindling for asphalt
Countdown alternate years to the millenium;
Barking as dogs, a lunar epidemic.

The moon, chained with kindness
A lock of cloud; compromise down dreams
Intermittent hands, cold all the time I never
I cannot trust, pitted against the gutter: ever!

I just want to be able to walk into a social situation with my head held up high because I've got a job and some status in the world.

It would also be nice not to have to be on my own all the time; a job and a committed, intimate relationship, is this asking for too much?

STUMPED

Time lingers over this ritual
Of mingling silences and dust;
At the end of her hands: no fingers.

A smoke-free zone:
A life burnt out.

Yesterday was the deadline for me to return a completed housing benefit form to the council. Rather than post it I handed it in personally and got a dated receipt.

My landlord was required to provide the details requested, so why didn't the Housing Department just send the form to him in the first place? What would have happened if I wouldn't have been able to contact my landlord in time?

SOMEWHERE....ANYWHERE

Fantasy travels
Business class
Transatlantic
Reason rhymed.

A balding pate
And firm young flesh
Where geography's concerned
It's all above my head.

I will sit here
Until paint peels
Until whatever I am
Laughing at amuses me.

High on New York
Time zones apart
I require goggles
To make the ocean palatable.

There are only three types of food I will not, or cannot eat. These are bananas, mushrooms and cinnamon; I can't even stomach being in the same room as anything with a strong smell of cinnamon...it actually makes me feel ill.

PREDICAMENTS

Love's no excuse for poetry,
Friendship no barter for pride.

Hardship is having to
Reverse down a one-way street
Because you can't afford an A-Z,
The cry of a baby on the back seat
Terrified of something unknown, unsaid.

(In other words, never having
To admit you've made a mistake.)

Madness barks at the moon
Safe and sound beyond the horizon.

In retrospective,
I feel the cool damp touch of shadow;
Coughing is immortal.

Some good sporting news to report. My local football (soccer) team, Doncaster Rovers, after a bad start to the season, has had two good wins this week. Firstly, knocking Premership side Manchester City out of the League Cup, and then beating local rivals Barnsley at the weekend.

Of course, the cricket season has now come to an end, but there's still the winter tour to India and Pakistan to look forward to.

HOME HELP US

Crescent moon bent,
Year srushed,
Nearer and nearer:
Terminus.

Flame-licked;
The faint flicker
Of time.

Womb knock
"Yes, my child."

We are all
Our children's
Children.

I'm getting annoyed and confused with the differing British and US ways of denoting dates when I'm surfing the net.

Why can't we standardise matters and use Roman numerals for the months and then there's no confusion? Except, of course, that computers aren't able to process Roman numerals.

COUNTDOWN

A lowing sun
Breaks the last straw
On the horizon's back.

Cleavage of hills,
A snapped chain
Of vapour trail.

A shadow stretching
Beyond the point,
Semaphoring trees debate;
Headlights butt the mist.

Lullabies rock reluctant children
"News, on the hour, every hour."
Sheep so quietly rehearse.

I enjoyed a free bus ride back into town last night. I was waiting at the bus-stop and a young woman with a toddler in a pushchair just gave me her Dayrover ticket that she no longer needed.

Some good things do happen to us after all; this kind act (at no cost to herself) saved me £1.30.

Of course, it's all perfectly legal: the bus company advertises one of the benefits of a Dayrover ticket is the fact that you can pass it on to family and friends for them to use...so why not a complete stranger?

SABBATH

It's Sunday again:
God doesn't give a toss
About the rest of the week.

After my recent posting of my favourite places in the county of Yorkshire as a whole, I thought I might as well draw up a new, local list.

1...Thorne Moors: A totally unique environment in England; extensive raised lowland peat bogs covered in dense vegetation. On a hot summer day you could easily imagine that you're in Africa.

2...Hooton Pagnell: Spectacularly situated preserved seventeenth century estate village. Mediaeval defensive gatehouse, church carillon and expansive views of The Pennines.

3...Sprotborough: Attractive lock, weir and nature reserve; situated in the Don Gorge.

4...The pleasant countryside in the extreme west of the borough, stretching along the magnesium limestone ridge.

HATLESS (or ABOVE ILKLEY)

We finished our picnic,
Read the graffiti
On the Cow and Calf rocks
And talked to an old man;
"Nothing up there
But sheep, and sheep
Following sheep."
He said.

I watched a video last night; it was set in Glasgow and all the characters spoke using a broad Glaswegian dialect. I could only understand about a third of what was being said; it really should have been subtitled.

Personally, when I speak I use something approximating to Standard English delivered in a Yorkshire accent; although I do tend to slip into dialect when visiting my parents.

Of course, all my blog entries and poetry are written in Standard English, with a few slight clarifications and modifications for an international readership.

THE CUSTOMER

His only companion, a pint glass
Swapping idle conversation
With the barmaid's hand.

His only reminiscence, a rich flavour
Tasted on silent lips
When conversation's gift is lost.

His only compensation, a shared experience
Among the chatter of his fellows
As drinks' last orders are announced.

1...Writing and publishing my poetry.

2...News and current affairs.

3...Languages of the world.

4...Military history and geopolitics

5...TV and films.

6...Theatre and the arts.

7...Watching sport.

GRAVITY

In a crazy world
It takes less time
For the minute hand
To travel from the hour
To half-past
Than it takes for it
To travel from half-past
Back up to the hour.

Yesterday, Hussein Osman (also known as Hamdi Izaak), an Islamic terrorist was extradited from Italy to London. Although we all know who he is and what he looks like, the media have been banned from showing his face. Why is this so? I know under English law there's the concept of 'sub judice', but that's just a means of censorship.

Because of this, there's not much democracy in this country but some of the legal cover-ups in the past have been laughable and pathetic...and even Chairman Blair can't censor the internet, can he?

Finally, why do so many Arabs/Muslims have two or three alternative names? It immediately makes me supicious of their motives and behaviour.

MORE OR LESS

On Ilkley Moor
Hatless, careless
We stood in the centre
Of the stone circle
At the summit.

It was a beautiful day;
I commented that
We could see most
Of the West Riding from there;
My friend agreed.

Seconds became minutes, became degrees,
Another hiker diverted
From the main path
And approached,
Touched each of the stones
In turn, then continued
On his way, without saying a word.

We did the same, my friend and I
Just for the sake of it
...You never know just who
Could have been watching.

1...The City of York: A magnificent gothic cathedral, the largest north of The Alps; and a complete set of mediaeval walls and gates. Need I say any more?

2...Selby: Pleasant market town with minster abbey and pleasant riverside views.

3...Howden: Small, well-preserved Georgian town with partially-ruined minster.

4...Beverley: Another Georgian town with minster and mediaeval city gate.

5...Hebden Bridge and neighbouring Heptonstall: A bohemian/artistic colony in the Pennines.

6...Ilkley: Always plenty of colourful hanging baskets; easy access to the moor that features in Yorkshire's national anthem (very gory words.)

7...Flamborough Head: Spectacular chalk cliffs.

8...Robin Hood's Bay: Colourful fishing village with a thriving artistic community. Nothing to do with Robin Hood.

9...Whitby: The home port of Captain Cook and all the association's with Count Dracula.

10..Hundreds of square miles of high, desolate moorland.

One of our fellow bloggers is blatantly advertising his services as a 'free male escort'. I say 'good look to him'; you've got to admire his honesty.

Mind you, although I'm not likely to ever go that far, I have placed a few personal ads. I haven't received any serious replies yet though.

CHIT-CHAT

He knew it all,
Dished it out
On a need-
To-know basis,
Washed up
After dinner;
Too tired
To impart
The last bus,
She smiled,
'No news is
Good news,
After all,'
She sensed.

A recent government report suggests that despite all the money that's been thrown at the problem, truancy is still a major problem.

It's not the truancy as such though that's the problem; it's what the kids are doing while they're not at school: hanging around in gangs on street corners and shopping centres and getting drunk or taking drugs whilst threatening people and committing acts of vandalism.

My solution to this problem is simple; don't make education compulsory any more - bring in a curfew for children during school hours and basically place them all under house arrest. If people want to opt out of society, I say let them, but let them also suffer the consequences. There'll then be more resources and opportunities for the rest of us who want to contribute to, and participate in, the society in which we live.

AUTOCUE

Here are today's news headlines:
'The Prime Minister said something,
The Leader of the Opposition responded:
Somewhere abroad, a thousand people
Had their tongues ripped out.'

My dad's seventy years old today. It's no use me wishing him a happy birthday in this blog because he'll never read it. With his opinions, behaviour and attitudes he's barely arrived at the nineteenth century, never mind the twenty first, and so modern technology just doesn't feature in his life at all.

It's not that we don't get on; in fact we get on okay (always have). We're not very close though and can't talk about anything of a personal nature. The conversation never goes much beyond sport and the weather.

EPILOGUE

On the train
Tired children hugged windows
Tetes-a-tetes
Looking like empty vases
Argued over the pronunciation
Of the town.

On the platform
Lovers bartered their final embraces
As the station announcer
Announced that Saturday night
Would be late again this week.

Another typical Tuesday morning: I've just got back from town where I bought some fish from the market and spent some time browsing the second-hand videos on sale..nothing of interest though. Last week I bumped into a mate and we had a natter for a few minutes, but he wasn't there today.

I'm so bloody bored.

SCREEN HEROES

Sheltered in breath
Your words encapsulated
The situation perfectly,
Candle flames licked
Impatient shadows,
You coughed, apologetically
And explained to me that
Kissing was contagious.

Yesterday I watched a report about a new craze that's sweeping across America; cage fighting...pretty much unrestricted brawling between two men in a cage.

What does this say about the state of our society? I'm not sure, but young men need to burn off their excess energy and aggression somehow though.

EXPERIMENT

There was a positive reaction
In the laboratory;
The scientist,
Who rarely smiled
Would never smile again.

I've been asked to become an online moderator on the South Yorkshire Public Transport Forum and have decided to accept the invitation. I'm interested in the subject and moderating should be fairly straight forward; just looking out for inappropriate or unsuitable postings and comments and introducing new subjects for discussion.

MUSIC APPRECIATION

In spacial stereo
It was still noise;
Back in The Fifties
On a mono radiogram
I could have been convinced
That it was music.

So, another weekend has passed in pretty much the same manner as all my weekends do - Friday and Saturday evenings watching DVD's and videos at a friend's house, Sunday morning reading the Sunday Times.

ROMANTIC

Time and tide;
Sky, land and
Sea collide.

Full moon wax
Lovers shadow box.

Memory:
Footprints pressed
Into the sand.

In this light,
Behind each kiss;
A derelict horizon.

Global warming; a subject that's been in the news a lot recently due to Hurricane Katrina. No, I'm not convinced; we're always seeing reports of extreme weather events on TV...the hottest for 500 years, the wettest, the driest, the worst season for hurricanes, the ice caps are melting, the Gulf Stream might dissipate etc. etc. etc.

What caused the extreme weather hundreds or thousands of years ago? Well, certainly not the activities of mankind - climatic extremes are a part of the natural cycle of the Earth's progression through space.

Variation in our orbit around the sun, the fluctuating energy output of the sun itself, the changing tilt of the Earth, a sudden flip of the magnetic flux and god know's what else all contribute to a growing list of potential causes and explanations.

Global warming or climate change, whatever you want to call it, will continue to happen and there's nothing we can do about it. We kid ourselves if we believe that human civilisation is the cause of this visitation: we're far too insignificant as a species for that.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Of course, when I was at school, everyone worried about the imminence of another Ice Age.

1...Supermarket bogof deals (buy one, get one free) offers. Why can't I just have one item at half the price?

2...The seemingly endless amounts of bureaucracy I have to deal with.

CONVERSATION TABLE

Whilst having his cake
And eating it
The poor little rich boy
Thinking back
To his maths lesson
Realised that
It was all
Pi in the sky
And poor people
Did count after all
...But not very well.

I'm hobbling around the streets of Doncaster at the moment; suffering from a severe case of what I call 'Tall Bus Passenger's Knee.' This is caused by spending too much time tightly wedged into a confined space, engine vibrations surging through my legs which are trapped by the back of the seat in front.

Of course, because I'm finding it painful to walk everywhere, I need to take the bus.

MACHINE CODE

A machine, in spate
Floods the room
With noise.

In the semi-detached darkness
Ghostly figures prolong
The agony of work.

Upstairs, in the office
A total lack of emotion
Sparks a 999 call
To the fire brigade
And a quick response.

I've finally managed to persuade my landlord to visit the property and have a look at some damp in the bathroom. He hasn't committed himself to doing anything about rectifying the problem yet; certainly nothing specific.

SUBURBIA

A flock of frost
Grazes the front lawn.

Yesterday afternoon
I serviced the lawnmower:
Served it right.

I'll send the bill
For my labour
To the Met Office
This time, I guess.

When I was travelling through Pontefract on the bus yesterday, I started to think about the history of the town. Over the centuries, and presently still under certain circumstances, what we now know as Pontefract (a name of Latin origin, although the Romans never had a settlement there) has also been called Pomfret (Norman French derivation), Kirkby (a Viking name) and Tanshelf (directly from Old English).

Strangely, the name 'Pontefract' means 'broken bridge' but there isn't a bridge there. It's all rather puzzling.

PETER'S PENCE

The Church of England
Is fortunate in not having
To take financial matters
Into consideration.

The price of cathedral
Guide books is always
Rounded up
To the nearest pound.

Ninety nine pence
Is anathema.

I got caught out in the rain yesterday (unlike cricketers) and now seem to be coughing and sniffling, so I fear I might be coming down with something again.

The weather has now become very autumnal and typically English; dark and miserable for the most part, and hour after hour of drizzle.

Personally, I'd much prefer a brief heavy dowmpour followed by a bit of brightness.

DECEMBER POEM

Saturday night:
Nearly Christmas...
Three men stagger.

An electric sky
Stutters over the words
Of a hundred advertisers.

A puddle
Punctured by a tyre
Deflates onto boots
As a shadow
In a shop doorway,
Smelling of low spirits,
Sings the praises
Of religious abstinence
And coitus interruptus:
God forbid