peoms – The Elloe Recorder

Downstairs any morning;
sunlight and smoke
in slow swirling clouds.
The cat wanders in,
cries and wanders out,
flopping down the step
toward shrill sparrow sounds.

An open passage door
through which I follow
into a past, or no time at all.
Gooseberries hairy in the mouth,
that sour shock at the crunch.
Raspberries sweet on the tongue;
peas plucked from the pod,

sitting between rows of green.
His shadow blots out the sun,
a tall silhouette, cap pushed back
as a match is struck.
I follow to runner beans
and strawberry rows,
where the cat rolls over and over.

He is distant now, never hurried,
where it all opens up,
when I cling to his leg
looking down on the dyke
where the moorhen struts.
Out onto prairie fields,
anonymous lines of roads

and pylons. A relentless horizon.

*If you would like personal astrology report, please contact me at: leoftanner@gmail.com for details.

Doing it for Free

A recession bites it makes long winter nights
even less tolerable than they already are
Look – I’ve been very good! Done everything I should
but years of saving hasn’t got me very far
They bail out the banks and we get no thanks
in a reckless bid to get us out of a hole
They ask for ideas confirming our worst fears
by putting millions of us on the dole
As for me, I keep schtum head down, looking glum
I’m like an iceberg there’s so little to see
No government shall take my life or my stake
I won’t bow down or do anything for free

Tag: peoms

Poem: Anonymous Lines

Downstairs any morning;
sunlight and smoke
in slow swirling clouds.
The cat wanders in,
cries and wanders out,
flopping down the step
toward shrill sparrow sounds.

An open passage door
through which I follow
into a past, or no time at all.
Gooseberries hairy in the mouth,
that sour shock at the crunch.
Raspberries sweet on the tongue;
peas plucked from the pod,

sitting between rows of green.
His shadow blots out the sun,
a tall silhouette, cap pushed back
as a match is struck.
I follow to runner beans
and strawberry rows,
where the cat rolls over and over.

He is distant now, never hurried,
where it all opens up,
when I cling to his leg
looking down on the dyke
where the moorhen struts.
Out onto prairie fields,
anonymous lines of roads

and pylons. A relentless horizon.

A Poem – ‘Doing it for Free’

Downstairs any morning; sunlight and smoke in slow swirling clouds. The cat wanders in, cries and wanders out, flopping down the step toward shrill sparrow sounds.

An open passage door through which I follow into a past, or no time at all. Gooseberries hairy in the mouth, that sour shock at the crunch. Raspberries sweet on the tongue; peas plucked from the pod,

sitting between rows of green. His shadow blots out the sun, a tall silhouette, cap pushed back as a match is struck. I follow to runner beans and strawberry rows, where the cat rolls over and over.

He is distant now, never hurried, where it all opens up, when I cling to his leg looking down on the dyke where the moorhen struts. Out onto prairie fields, anonymous lines of roads

and pylons. A relentless horizon.

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Downstairs any morning;
sunlight and smoke
in slow swirling clouds.
The cat wanders in,
cries and wanders out,
flopping down the step
toward shrill sparrow sounds.

An open passage door
through which I follow
into a past, or no time at all.
Gooseberries hairy in the mouth,
that sour shock at the crunch.
Raspberries sweet on the tongue;
peas plucked from the pod,

sitting between rows of green.
His shadow blots out the sun,
a tall silhouette, cap pushed back
as a match is struck.
I follow to runner beans
and strawberry rows,
where the cat rolls over and over.

He is distant now, never hurried,
where it all opens up,
when I cling to his leg
looking down on the dyke
where the moorhen struts.
Out onto prairie fields,
anonymous lines of roads