National Breast Day

It was today the breasts appeared
Aroused from winter’s slumber,
And how my inner heart was cheered!
A thousandfold in number.

For months, they’ve been locked out of sight,
Entombed in winter woollies,
But now they’ve burst into the light,
Those rounded hills and gullies.

No more encased in outerwear,
Encased in coats and fleeces,
They’re now exposed to sunlight’s glare
And dark abruptly ceases.

Big ones, small ones, ones that bounce
About on different levels.
Once the bishop would denounce
The flaunting of these devils,

But the first warm day of every year,
I reckon, is the best day.
The day when all the breasts appear –
Hats off to National Breast Day.

Poetry Festivals

.

It’s a clique,
So to speak,
These august poetic readings,
If you’re in,
You can grin
And relax throughout proceedings.
If you’re part
Of the heart
Of the free verse literati,
Then you’ll know
Where to go
For the very latest party.
And it does
Not help us
On the outside dumb and jealous,
That you’re kind
And inclined
To be straight in what you tell us.
As we wait
By the gate
And we dally and we dither,
What we crave
Is a wave
And a nod that says come hither.
As I watch,
Sipping Scotch,
With my writing fingers trembly,
How I yearn
In my turn
To be part of the assembly.

Bank Holiday Monday

A day too rare
With thick warm air
And ne’er a cloud in sight.
No breeze dispels
Those cut-grass smells
And all is close and bright.

As in a trance,
The midges dance
Around my choc’late sundae.
Again, again,
I check for rain,
This May Bank Holiday Monday.