Humorous 

Ocular jewellery.

This poem is written at Gaia Holmes’s workshop at Kings Cross Library, Halifax.

 Published on Igniting the Spark Facebook page 25/05/24

When I go to Beihai, I am assumed to be an alien by the locals,

A bilinear man in Gunaxi province who can afford to hold

A wooden bar with two black cormorants across my shoulders. It

Costs just 10 Yeon for locals, but

If there is a man whose eyes appear like ocular jewellery

As cormorants do the price goes up to just 40 Yeon a time,

And if you won’t shout at the creepy street sellers - mù guā!*

That wooden bar will be on your shoulders with a wide-brimmed hat

On your head before you even blink your ocular jewellery eye.

They are flexible on payments. WeChat payments are

Accepted if you do not have cash.

Overall you rather sit in your five star hotel room

Instead of shopping

At local SUPER, SUPER cheap underground supermarkets

OR walk out with your eyes shut

If you don't want to be charged three times more than your dream-come-true item costs.

Local women will melt staring with their earthy brown eyes

At European, American or English men

And

Might try to drag them into their neatly prepared nests to breed another

Ocular jewellery-looking human being.

Anyone who has ocular jewellery-looking eyes in China

Will see it as a burden instead of God’s gift because locals will see them as

A child of James Goodfellow

One big bloody automatic teller machine.

*mù guā! translated from Chinese language means behaviour well, keep away

25/05/24

Butterfly

This poem is written at Gaia Holmes’s workshop at Kings Cross Library, Halifax.

Published on Facebook pages – Facebook Poetry Society, Igniting The Spark, Ivo Bierands, On My Mind, Poetry Prompts, Poetry UK and The Love of Poetry on 14/09/24.

We might think that there is no chance to

Infuse two words together that have no connection at all

If we think about them initially.

They have different meanings and different functions

Apart they can function as food or food ingredients.

 

Butter tends to be cooked or eaten with sandwiches,

I enjoy eating it with cheese

It can be dangerous if it has been smeared on the floor with a purpose 

To make it shine.

On the other hand – flies have the function of annoying people

At least the most of them

And can end their lives fast with almost no pain under daily newspapers like The Sun,

Daily Mirror

Or

The Guardian that does not guard them at all

Though, they can be great snacks for birds like pigeons,

If they are not prioritising painting randomly things in their

Glorious masterminded snow white purge

And repaint the same place if they are accurate enough.

 

It is amazing if we think about what happens

If we link the word butter and fly together.

Initially, we might think it is cheese,

But

It’s not.

The outcome is – a butterfly, one of the most amazing wonders

Nature as an artist has created in different sizes and

Painted them in endless colours.

01/06/24

Burgundy green beauty

Published on Facebook pages – Facebook Poetry Society, Igniting The Spark, Ivo Bierands, On My Mind, Poetry Prompts, Poetry UK and The Love of Poetry on 22/09/24.

 It was read at Serendipity 6th Birthday celebrations at Cloggs Cafe in Dewsbury, England on 18/10/14. 

Wŭ Yén Yén found it in her back garden,

It was as green as the darkest Chinese forests,

Thoughtful as the wisest men

Before making their lifetime decisions,

Its eyes black and sparkling searching for freedom,

Still alive and hopeful.

Sadly, it has no name.

Now it sleeps its endless noon sleep

In a small bright green plastic container

With a white plastic handle.

There is nothing else to do.

 

I remember

My mum told me six years ago,

Her turtle went missing,

It might be the same in the ever bright green container,

It might taken six years for it to get here.

 

I heard that turtles has no teeth,

I assume, if it’s true,

This turtle might be a fan of Cliff Richard,

And if it would have enough money

It would stand in the first row of his gigs,

Waiting for his Christmas song

So it can sing it along with him

The way it can.

22.06.24

***

This poem is written based on Pablo Tisch's comment about how to use That in my poem I don’t know whether Blue and the combination of my experience on 27.09.24 going to a hospital by car.

I strive not using the word "that", unless absolutely necessary because it's one of those overly used words, lacking emotion or action.

Published on Facebook pages – Facebook Poetry Society, Igniting The Spark, Ivo Bierands, On My Mind, Poetry UK and The Love of Poetry on 06/10/24.

He thinks that he’s Lewis Hamilton

In short LH

Driving sky concrete coloured Seat Leon

With number plate 2016

Imagining driving a Range Rover

Brand new from a shop shelf on Canal Road

Acting like THAT

While other drivers would pick this character carefully

Unless it is absolutely necessary,

Because THAT is lacking emotions or,

I would like to say the driver’s well behavioural actions.

 

LH drives listening to loud music probably gone deaf already

Left with that dark caramel, sparkling eyes

Popping out of his eyeball holes

And

His two hands cramped into a steering wheel,

But his brains  - left sitting in the rain on the wet tarmac in horror

On Hollingwood Lane

Blown out through the smoke painted exhaust

While their owner was going hell for leather over humps and bumps

Now living in its nightmares and screaming for free psychology sessions

From NHS to repair damaged cells by their owner who bolted away.

 

LH’s face is emotionless 

When he takes me over suddenly without warning

In heavy traffic on Clayton Road

Putting other traffic members in possible danger,

Turning left on a junction without indicating

Racing down the Cemetery Road

Suddenly sharp breaking

Because there is a bloody idiot in front of him

Who drives as if to their future  apartments

Living their very last cool lifetime moment on the earth

Before free-falling into pitch black bed-sleep

No-sit room.

 

And suddenly LH is gone

Probably to the hell

Where the devil is waiting for him for dinner

To eat

Acting like THAT too.

01/10/24

***

Published on Facebook pages - Absolutely Yours - Poetry, Lyrics & Music, 'Art, Literacy, Poetry', Beautiful Poems & Quotes, Dzeja No Sirds, Facebook Poetry Society, Global Poet & poetry, Igniting The Spark,  Invisible Poets, Ivo Bierands, Life through poetry & writing, On My Mind,  Poems & Poetry, Poetry Autopsy, Poetry lover, Poetry Prompts, Poetry UK, Poetry Universe, Poetry world, The Love of Poetry, The Poetry Club, The Poetry Corner Official, The hands On Poem Writers on 18/11/24.

My neighbour had a funeral ceremony

A few doors down the road

On that warm November day,

Black suits,

Black cars,

Eleven o’clock night

Black eyes,

The next morning

In his silent front yard

Crashed Famous Goose whiskey bottles

Two different colour women's high-heel shoes

Hanging as an evidence

Of raving sadness 

A day before.

15/11/24