Definitions – 11th July 2025

I’m not a poet, but I write
to put these thoughts down on paper,
I’m no hero, but I will fight
for influence in this caper;

I’m not a real artist either
perhaps I’m swimming at the edge,
With faith but not a believer,
it’s only to myself I pledge;

Not really a teacher as such,
a student only when I please;
I say too little, say too much,
an expert without expertise;

I’m no writer, only writing
to fill up these empty pages;
No influence nor exciting,
no actor upon the stages;

I have no musical talents
always screeching into the void;
It’s an act I cannot balance,
never upset but just annoyed;

Am I a poet? You decide;
I don’t really care either way;
All too easily classified
I am or I’m not what you say.

Written for the GloPoWriMo Day 3 prompt: write a poem that obliquely explains why you are a poet and not some other kind of artist – or, if you think of yourself as more of a musician or painter (or school bus driver or scuba diver or expert on medieval Maltese banking) – explain why you are that and not something else!
I’m not so oblique though!

Life Is Jazz – 9th July 2025

Written for the GloPoWriMo Day 2 prompt: Write a poem that directly addresses someone, and that includes a made-up word, an odd/unusual simile, a statement of “fact,” and something that seems out of place in time. Inspired by a piece of writing by David Elikwu.

Hey, Mister Saxomaphone,

hoot me a honk, and so right the wrong;

All the broken melodies,

reinvented

will create my song.



As perfect as a dirty corner

wherein lies the history of this room,

swept away by all your basses;

Mister Saxomaphone meet Thunderbroom!

A dizzy release of tension

but miles made me a kind of blue,

with a loosened grip of the sticks

the dischord births the cool.


A novelty of noise, your random riffs

brought my jazz to life, formed this punk

Mister Saxomaphone, I made my own song

from the power of your funk.

A New Declaration – 4th July 2025

Fifty secessions recommended
for restoration of human rights;
Enslavement to be suspended,
and fifty second-amendment rewrites;

The cowboy boots too small,
the experiment always failing;
There’s freedom for none at all
when the fascists are prevailing;

The right to food not guaranteed
make felons form for looting;
The chaos increasing with speed,
shuttering doors after each shooting;

A tremendous, wonderful thing to see;
a rise and fall so fast;
Selling off the foundations for free,
there’s no way it could ever last;

So fifty secessions needed;
those with virtue, step into the light;
Once the divisions have succeeded,
a second chance to get it right.

Inspired by my own comment on this post at stopdraggingthepanda.

Watching Storms – 3rd July 2025

Sons, be men and get yourselves laid,
chase easy girls and compare your scores;
it’s the game for generations played;
the winner receives the most applause.



Girl, keep your legs shut, quiet as a mouse;
male privilege will never extend to you;
I never want a whore in my house;
someone else’s daughter would have to do.

Inspired by this article at Tumultuous True Stories by Lindsay Byron

Never Alone – 2nd July 2025

When news is not information now,
full of alarm and entertainment;
Politics is no longer governance
but just a circus full of distractions;

A world where feeling good
beats what actually is good.

So the product goes unrecognised,
the deceit is ever more efficient;
The mirror only reflects the beautiful;
No craft, no taste, no art, no passion;

Learned to feel good
without learning what is good.

Optimised for consumption,
the comforts counter discovery;
Hacked brains dopamined to diversion;
never alone with a phone in your home.