Category Archives: Day 19

Half Time

Half Time

all to play for
leading by a wonder goal
my idol scored

a breather from TV
in the garden
Anfield roar in my ears

my replica shirt
COUTINHO on the back
straining at the seams

ignore the fact
grass needs cutting
beds need weeding

balancing the football
on an outstretched slipper

like a true Brazilian
flick the ball in the air
kick it arcing high

clears the fence
straight into the top corner
of next-door’s greenhouse

met by
a tinkle of applause
an outraged yell

Mother Goose Flies to the Moon

After years of grubby underpants
her menopausal yearnings turn to
escargots. She wanders across France,
drinks absinthe in the poshest bistros,
squandering the kids’ inheritance.

Father sullen in his garden shed
meditates on worms and broccoli
while Mother and her dodgy knees dance
on table-tops to tarantellas
twice a night in downtown Napoli.

Partnered by a cockney gigolo
she travels eastwards for a flavour
of the orient, flies north to snow,
then Botswana for the game, savours
pungent redolence of beast. Untamed

at seventy, Mother’s done it all;
gravity tugs at sagging breasts,
glossy brochures fall and lie unread.
The cellar’s almost dry. And yet …

She reaches out for her distance specs
and looks up into the moonlit sky.