Category Archives: Poems

Brit Mums Poetry & Prose Round Up

BritMumslogoBrit Mums are a collective of lifestyle bloggers in Britain.  I recently became connected with their poetry and writing representative Maddy Bennett who runs a fantastic blog and writing forum called Writing Bubble.

Maddy recently called for poems associated with love to appear in the Brit Mums February Round Up and I am honored to find that I am one of those poets who have been showcased in the Round Up.  It means a great deal to me to find a connection with so many other poets, some of whom are mothers,  as well as having a poem shared.  In my case it was one of my own favourites, Backseat Driver.

Please do checkout the link to the Round Up and have a gander at a wealth of talented lady writers who really do write from the heart.

Anna x

 


Eggs, Fudge and Arctic Roll

bands only pic

Photo from BBC and The Joiners

Eric is an intern, yes he’s doing this for free
headset wrapped around hot ears
counting all the crates of beers
ripped jeans show his puny knee.

Backstage riders take the piss
Clipboard says an item’s amiss
The schedule’s tight; he’s been up all night
Too late to get it to the concert site.

Budgets are exceeded; the helipad’s all booked
Dressing rooms are ready; just hope it’s overlooked
The promoter will go mad as the pressure takes its toll
‘Cos it’s a long way to the shop, if you want an Arctic Roll

Egos he will massage; these artists he must tame
Remind them they were unknown once and hungry for the fame
Eric likes those little bands, who will be big some day
They just eat fudge and humus and then get on and play.

But a taste for headline hunting always makes them grow
And soon they start to ask for stuff like “frozen H2O”?
Demands for herbal tea and room for meditation
“Give it to me now, or else it’s cancellation!”

“I want:

M&Ms but no brown ones
Skittles minus the purple ones
a large supply of surprise Kinder Eggs and
Playboy bunnies with really long legs…

counsellors, oxygen and a lovely lady doctor
(in case my hip joint seizes with my foot upon a monitor)
two bottles of Absinthe; some chewy Gummi Bears
jugs of mountain spring water to wash my grapes and pears…

air con, fluffy black towels and gentle ivory soaps
fifty thousand live bees and permission to slaughter white goats
Bottles of brown mustard that must be VERY tasty
a good supply of bacon and a tube of KY Jelly

Make sure you’ve got what I require
These songs should state what I desire:

a Big Cheese Burrito with a plate of Pork and Beans
then Pour Some Sugar On Me Peaches and Cream
Poundcake, Hot Dog, slice of American Pie
Chop Suey, Curry Bun; and don’t ask me why
Finish with more Peaches, a Cake and Sodomy
then slam me a Tequila, because it makes me happy.”

An extra side of barbeque ribs should help save Eric’s soul…

but

“It’s the wrong tray of pork chops!  Now just get me Arctic Roll!”


I can’t take my eyes off those silver boots

silver boots

I’ll let you into a little secret…TOPSHOP 😉

The moment I saw these beauties I thought of 1. Starman.  2. Noel Fielding.  3. Give them to me nowwwwww!  And then I thought of this – ENJOY!

I will wear them down the pub
I will shop in them at Sainsburys
I went to a book launch in them last week
I hoovered in them yesterday
I’ll ride the Northern Line tomorrow
Keep crossing my legs for effect
and tread the escalator stainless steel
Absorbing the stares that follow
The kids shall feel exposed
When I wear them at the school gates
and a gaggle of gossiping fishwives
bitching behind each other’s backs
will stare at my feet and wonder
who the hell does she think she is?
and then go home and Google
Starman, Noel Fielding, must haves
 


Poetry Space Winter Showcase

I have just had the very best news that one of my poems, ‘Minced Lies’ has been selected by poet and Poetry Space guest editor, Di Coffey, to appear in the Poetry Space Winter Showcase.

You can read ‘Minced Lies’ and the amazing, diverse and thought provoking poems by other poets selected for the Showcase here:

Poetry Space Winter Showcase 2015

poetry space logo

Have a great weekend everyone.

Anna x


The Cucumber Plot

cc-cucumber1

I have a large knife in my hand
and I’m not afraid
to skin this mother
to sliver away at the
stiff upper lip of a
toughened epidermis
banish wrinkles, dents and prickly bits
and behold it
cleansed, stripped, unveiled

If you ask me again
I will plainly chop
the thing in two
while I wonder what I could be

This repast, the fourth of the day
mentally diarised between
broken blinds and fresh air
changing light bulbs and toilet bleach
interrupted by
pencil shavings
polka dancing
a stubbed toe for you and an ice pack for me…
will be ready when it’s ready

If you ask me again
I might lose my thread
while I wonder what I am

Where was I?
The uses of a cucumber
Well, it’s staggering
With a whole one
brought to room temperature
there’s no guilty sniff of an affair
grate it for tzatziki
slice it into Pimms
twist a piece to garnish
baton lengths to dip
pickle in a jar or two
refresh tired eyes
pack on shine
pack on an allergic reaction
like mine

This repast, the fourth of the day
mentally diarised between
identity cravings and learning to share
bathroom scum lines and out of reach
interrupted by
dead batteries
sing-along-songs
a melody for you, a harmony for me…
will be ready, when its ready

I have a large knife in my hand
and I’m not afraid
to dice this mother
expose jellied innards
vital organs
seeds of life
while I wonder what I was

And when you’re ready
I’ll see waves of laundry
finally dry up
breakfast and supper
mute on Sunday
the last marmite stain
wiped from the wall
that secret bogie stash cemented
to your bedroom shelf
I’ll post off to your house
cucumber cool
with a note that says, touché


Always Down The Front

Photo credit: Katrin Bretscher (www.katrinbretscher.com)

Photo credit: Katrin Bretscher (www.katrinbretscher.com)

There’s always one isn’t there,

Slopping beer all over his shoes?

He’s jostling for position

Hand secure upon the barrier

But his shoulders aren’t quite through

Cos there’s a fangirl, already half cut,

Hogging space for two

Arms are sleeves of coloured ink

Hair is blonde and striped in pink

Boobs are large and cupped in lace…

He might try conversation

“I love your tats; the skull, the eagle

the waves that wash across that fish…”

She flicks her hair across his face

Flashing eyes like glazy treacle

Swigs her pint, drenches his shoe

Budges up to let him through

Exhaling words of amber hops

In wispy tones at his lobe,

She tells of watching every show,

“I’m always down the front.

Spare a thought,” she suggests ,

Eyes transfixed on amps and rigs,

“for the guys who risk their lives.

I’ve been up there and I have seen

The underpaid who never rest.

Coiled in cables, burned, dog tired

Blinded, deafened and hot wired

Lost in circuits, lights, transformers,

Steering sound on fast food diets

Crushed by structures,

Fixing risers

Skilled in light and bespoke pyro.

I climbed up high and saw them all

The riggers, techies, leccies and crew

wrapped in miles of trusty gaffer

The steadfast, deadpan

poor security man.”

She sighs in wispy amber tones

Eyes all flashing glazy

Treacle pools reflecting

So impressed, he concurs

Then thinking back to boobs in lace

He might try conversation…

But amps reverb and drown the chance

Arm hairs rigid and entranced

There’s no time now to be so blunt

As dry ice shrouds his fangirl…

His feet are feeling light as air

It’s just as though she wasn’t there

His shoe is dry, but how? And why?

As darkness cloaks his fangirl…

Exhaling words of amber hops

In wispy tones at his lobe

“You’ll catch me watching every show

I’m always down the front.”


The Will To Gig on Soundcloud


Backseat Driver on Soundcloud

Thanks for listening 🙂 xx


Piss Might Fly

Previously written for a friend heading to Sonisphere Festival 2014, this versatile poem instantly becomes a bespoke ditty for anyone heading to any music festival.  Just replace the name in the first verse with that of your own or a friend and subsequently the “she” to “he” if applicable and change the title of the festival to the one you are lucky enough to get time off work for and Bingo!  The verses are yours!

A nice pint of refreshing beer

A nice pint of refreshing beer

Kitty went to Glasto

to see her favourite bands.

She spied a flying pint of beer

which sprayed her hair and hands.

It was no beer, this was clear,

but toxic waste and human,

a frothy bevvie, she did fear,

brewed by a desperate fan.

The crowd then parted like the waves,

and Kitty gained some extra space.

She couldn’t damn that reckless man,

he’d really made the perfect land!

The stage was clear and in her sight;

now she needn’t push or fight.

Thanks to the fan who’d relieved his gear

(At least it wasn’t from his rear!)


Secondhand Merchandise on Soundcloud

Finally had some recordings done – hope you enjoy.  Feel free to comment.  Thanks for listening.

Anna x