A Couple of Recent Poems

So wonderful to be back doing a live performance last week. At last!

This is where we were- it is in Folkestone, and is known as ‘Payers Pocket’.

These are a couple of my most recent poems.

The Man Who Cut Off His Nose

He cut off his nose to spite his face
Then saw that he needed to fill the space
Where his nose used to be
He tried on a mask but it wouldn’t grip
It would have sat on his nose’s tip
But he had no nose, so he had no tip
And the mask would slip

He cut off his nose to spite his face
But his face fought back to spite the place
Where his nose used to be
It left a trace above his lip
Where the mask hung on that had no grip
It hung on his lip and gave him gip
For the mask would slip

He cut off his nose to spite his face
But thought the space was lacking grace
Where his nose used to be
Then he told himself to get a grip
And he pulled out his knife and cut off the lip
Where the mask had hung that gave him gip-
Then the other lip

He cut off his nose to spite his face
Sure he was helping the human race
Who still had eyes to see
But he worried about the eyes that were left
Above the cleft of his sliced-off nose
So he took his knife and he struck a pose
And he said Here Goes

And he cut out the eyes to spite the space
Where his nose and lips and mask used to be.
The last step of all is to cut out his brains
The brains that keep on telling him he
Should have left the nose and the nose’s tip
And the eyes and the upper and lower lip
So he rolls back his scalp with his fingertips.
It opens as easy as a zip.

All Dressed Up

You do this in the name of love
Put on a suit you’ll never wear again
Even your best man wears a tie
“I wouldn’t do this for anyone else”
He grimaces; “You owe me one”.

All dressed up on a double-decker bus
Showing your new in-laws first the campus
Your flat-share, the ancient city-
Flint-stone walls, cathedral, the cricket ground
Where Trumper scored a hundred before lunch

You point to the wild-swimming place
A spot you kept a secret for yourselves
You cannot see a bit of it from here
But it gives them an idea of your love
How precious their daughter is

You do not say how much it tears
Your heart to see down there the sawdust pub
The snooker rooms, the betting shop
The dance-hall where you puked on Friday nights
Places you’ll never see inside again

Still, it’s a happy day, and once
Your best man has made his speech and torn away
The tie, you take to the dance floor
And she hugs you tight and whispers
“I cannot wait to get us out of these clothes”