(if you can't see all the poem, click on 'read more' button and scroll down to the bottom of the page.
DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU
You'll be sorry in the morning when your head is thick and buzzing
You'll wish you'd never touched a drop of booze.
You'll remember not one thing. Did you stagger? Did you sing?
Or did you run around the garden with no shoes?
You'll shut your eyes and groan: Am I alive? Am I at home?
Or am I dying in some darkened alleyway?
You'll hold your head and wonder. Did I make an awful blunder?
Did I shout 'fuck off'' to someone yesterday.
You're eyes will grow wider. You'll remember that large cider.
What happened next was well beyond the pale.
You snogged auntie Mabel, danced naked on the table
Then downed a few more pints of strong brown ale.
You filled your lungs with gusto, yodelled loud and hey presto,
The roof it shook, and all you heard were cheers.
You pinched young Susie's bum, and then went on the run
Before her husband clipped you round the ears.
Oh how you 'll wish, you'd sat and watched the telly.
Oh how you 'll wish you'd stayed inside..
But with a throbbing so severe, you'll have another beer.
You'll lie there, off yer head and bleary-eyed.
Great night at Verbalise, the spoken word evening at The Brewery in Kendal. Mostly regulars like myself spouting off. I read latest, unpublished verses: Gratitude, Touched, Death in November (nature poem) and a short four liner:
GENEROSITY
Wrap this gift with love and care
Tie it with a thread of prayer
Save it with intent to share
Display it here or anywhere
Am starting to build up another collection of verses in between finishing my latest novel. Am trying my hand at writing a fifteen minute play, as well, but find it quite frustrating. Writing a novel I have complete control over how the characters behave, what characteristics they display etc. With a play, this won't be the case with the intervention of producers, directors and of course actors who may not possess the qualities I envisage while writing.
At last the rain stopped and I did a short gig at The Mortal Man Hotel, Troutbeck. Read my new poems which were well received.
Two crazy schoolboy jokes: What illness do retired pilots get?
Da-da.........FLU
Why are toy teddybears never hungry?
Da-da.........Because they're stuffed....
Tee hee.