Posts Tagged ‘Nature’

I’ve given up the shore for Hills

These Hills

At twilight the Lough glows yet red

Clutching the last of the Sun

I’ve given up The Shore for these hills

Hills yellow with furze

Coconut smelling

And birdsong trilling out

Below ribbons of streetlights

Show colour, a friendlier yellow

It’s the mounds that have it tho’

Dusky mounds of fecund blossom

Falling away making this

Spring’s snowline of bushes

Broad brushstrokes


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My fingers are stiff and sore with the cold
There are no smells from the pines
The winter sun shining through
Carries thoughts of warmth
The resins not warmed enough to ooze
I’d have to carry this pack much further south for such heat now
My shoulders hurt.
My poor fingers
Better get on
Winter brrr…

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Our local pub has a disco on Friday nights. For years the music was provided by a bloke who went under the name Moby Discs until he was imprisoned for benefit fraud.

Now the Friday night disco is DJ’d by “Disco Dave – Ready to Rave!” – he is rabies free by the way.

“Disco Dave – Ready to Rave!” is down with the kids (but not in a Jimmy Saville kinda way) and shares some of his favourite dance floor fillers for you cats to use when you put on a bash.

Disco Dave – takes up the story……

“Recent shoplifting expeditions to charity shops in order to obtain new platters for my mobile discotheque, Disco Dave’s Dancing Delights, have unearthed some gems that will have the Merry Fellow rockin’ and a rollin’ all night long. Here are a couple of songs I will be playing……

Jive Bunny – “Whole lotta shit going on” – never used to have time for Jive Bunny until I found out he actually is a real performing rabbit so although this mish mash of old rock n’ roll hits is crap, you’ve got to take your hat off to him because he really is a rabbit. Rabbit rock is here to stay!

Simon & Garfunkel – “Bridge Over Troubled Water” – bit maudlin – but put in on 78rpm and hey presto! its sounds a bit like Lonnie Donegan and seeing as I’ve been unable to nick any Lonnie Donegan it’ll have to do.

John Miles – “Music” – goes on way too long, disappears up its own arse at the end and he couldn’t hold a tune to save his life but gives me a chance to neck a few beers and nip out the back for a ciggie.

Dave will share some more of his favourite dance floor fillers with you as soon as he steals them. Keep rockin’ in the free world

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Several years ago I followed your fabulous diet book, “Masturbate Yourself Thin”, lost three stone and could crack walnuts with my right hand. Sadly I tugged with such ferocity that my foreskin is now over three feet long and when I am in the shower my love missile looks kinda…..weird. Do you have any tips for reeling it in. Or is surgery the only way?

Bellend Tom, Belenses

Hi Bellend,

My we have quite a few wankers contacting me this week! Fine by me!

Could you contact my secretary Salacious Sadie? We have just the part for you. It’s an updated/skewered/perverted version of the Elephant Man and tells the story of the many scraps and bedroom farces old Merrick might have got into with various buxom wenches if he had been a bit less depressive, more outgoing and could run fast like Benny Hill.


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The hills are the spine of the world

The clouds bumping together in their haste to find the valley’s spillway millrace.

Now only their spine’s mark

All that’s visible in the rain clouds advance.

Below the village pushes up the umbrellas

Maybe shivers

As those hills disappear away again.

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Mum’s Garden Full Of Birdsong

There’s a tall tree in mum’s garden

That needs chopping

A Blackthorn

It and the Holly beside it

Spreading up up way beyond their bound

Blocking the light from the neighbours

Worrying my mum that someone may complain

Curly and I could not reach over far enough

That time we cut the hedge

But there’s a Blackbird that sings from that tree

He’s singing now

A Mistle Thrush, countless Tits

And the Blackbird and his mate

All in there

The Blackbird is singing

‘Yeooww woo

But isn’t it grand’

It is too

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‘A bag with a zip but no baffle

Will be colder than a bag with a zip baffle’.

Well that’s me anyway

Always well baffled

Creaking up the stairs

Now bumping into the furniture

Walking into the corner

The Sharp pointy bit of of a day

Not quite sure where things were left.

To seize on to, to catch

To hold on not to let go

Never worked

The draughts still got in

Twisting and turning in the bag

Caught up in lining

Too warm too cold

A quality bag will have no zip so no need of bafflement.

Cozy too

Hell yeah

Always well baffled

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Neutron Star (Paul Holland)

With greenest of bright openings

Four cardinal points of fern

Push out beside the rill

From the Winter’s

Last clinging beech leaves

Drops fall

Into sharply cut waters

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My Laboured Breaths

The heavy set thump of white tailed deer

As they charge away across the streams wet clay

They caught in its tight slippy narrow confines

Their panic palpable

But short lived

As easy their powerful strides carry them up and away from me and the dogs’ agog

Dun red and the orange of this years bracken Oak leaves under foot

Their crinkle patterns as we slog by this glorious winter’s day

Promised for snow

Now sleety biting rain

Breathe you fool

Another day is the day for sorrows

Not today

My laboured breaths as I push uphill

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