FIRST SIGHT

There’s no need for the TV show – in a sense

we all marry at first sight: we haven’t yet met

the people we will become; we do not

yet know what we will turn into. Of course

we take an educated guess, but there’s no

real telling how those talons will test and rip apart

and pick at our flesh. The challenge ahead

is greater than that of any contrived primetime

production – it’s nothing less than loving

the stranger we will tangle with in time,

and committing always to see them through

the very best eyes we ourselves can produce.

a poem for Holly Park Primary School, Barnet

Last week I was lucky enough to pay a fantastic visit to Holly Park Primary School. Not only is this a wonderful school, it is extremely local, so I even got a bit of a lie in! Anyone who knows me will know how important this is. Prior to the visit, I was asked to write a poem for the school. Their wonderful Year 6 teacher, Ms. Sampson, collected from the children a list of ideas as to what makes someone a 'Holly Parker'. I then fashioned these ideas into the following poem. I hope you enjoy it!

HOLLY PARK

Loyal and friendly

A warm, kind heart

The books, the reading

The drawing and art

A hand to hold

When times grow darker – 

That’s what makes

A Holly Parker

The singing assemblies

And football teams

Games in the playground

The laughter and screams

The motivation

To go far

That’s what makes us

Who we are

Equality, diversity

And dialogue

Cuddles and snuffles

With Poppy the dog*

Turn on the light

And look at the spark – 

That’s what makes us

Holly Park!

*Poppy is the school dog. She is absolute gorgeous!

What Nadine Dorries Should Have Said

In a series of tweets, Culture Secretary Nadine Dorries recently blames a series of laughable mishaps on the fact that she is dyslexic. Here is what she should have said instead:

I’m Terribly Sorry

(or, what Nadine Dorries Should Have Said)

I’m terribly sorry for the mistakes I have made recently. 

I have a condition known as Being a Tory. 

This condition affects everyone differently. 

For me, it affects my morality as well as my competence,

which is why I find solace in alcohol. 

Sometimes it’s funny and I laugh it off, but mostly

it just means I am totally awful. 

It’s difficult when you are in front of camera or writing a book,

or just having a normal conversation with a crony.

I’ve been in politics a long time and have grown increasingly thick.

If you are interested in Being a Tory, some kind of lobotomy

or morality bypass will probably suffice.

SICK NOTE (after Spike Milligan)

My neck has grown another head. 

My tongue is turning green. 

Fluorescent goo is oozing

from my liver and my spleen. 

A horn has sprouted on my chest. 

My feet have fallen off.

My nostrils let out noxious vapours

every time I cough. 

My eyeballs have gone hairy

and my hair has all turned pink.

My legs are elongating

while arms begin to shrink.

I think I’ll need to go to bed.

My health has gone downhill.

You should have let me stay off school – 

I told you I was ill.

LAMB CHOPS

A month before he died my grandfather

ate lamb chops. Long past the point

at which politeness matters, he picked

up the pieces with his fingers, gnawing

frantically down to the bone, determined 

to get at whatever was left. And as

he lay later in his hospital bed he said

it was the happiest he’d ever been.

If only we could all receive gifts like these –

going to the unknown with only the bones;

no hint of unfinished meat; a life consumed

with gusto, its flavour truly savoured.

MORNING RUSH

I tried my best to not be late. 

I locked the door and shut the gate. 

I jogged along then caught the bus

with minimal amounts of fuss. 

My tardiness, in times gone by,

had rendered me a flaky guy;

I checked my wrist and gave a smirk – 

for once I wasn’t late to work.

I sauntered at a languid pace

with smugness etched upon my face.

My boss, however, docked my pay – 

the clocks went forward yesterday.

a poem for my grandpa

TOWERS

My grandpa

used to build towers

in the living room.

Stacking the bricks

on top of each other,

I’d implore him

to make it go higher

and higher.

My brother said

he cheated,

because the tower

was on a table;

all that mattered to me

was that it touched

the ceiling.

me and my grandpa, with one of his towers, circa 1990

My grandpa died a few days ago. He was 86. He died after a short illness, and didn't suffer in his dying days. In fact, he said it was the happiest he had ever been, knowing he was going to die having achieved all he had ever wanted - to see his large family grow and flourish. He was a wonderful man, and I will miss him immensely.