Smell of Coffee – Patrick Prinsloo

A quickie from a Macclesfield Writing Group exercise concentrating on genre. With a nod in the direction of Douglas Adams:

 

The smell of coffee awakened its senses.

 

It glared at its interrogator using all of its four hundred and seventy six eyes. “This is not allowed you know. Under Clause 375X of the Universal Charter of Creature Rights no being should be subjected to the smell of fresh coffee.”

The interrogator, a Zircon from Outer Kelvin, faded in and out of visibility and turned slightly arcturus amber. “This will be unknown by all. It’s just the clashing of our word credibilities. So just gift the knowledge into my memory bank and imprisonment will not be yours.”

The prisoner blinked in perplexity. “Can you say that again please.”

“Abundance! What is your iron in the fire here? Do you preach Adaminism? And where is the root ginger?” And popped the percolator back onto the pot-bellied stove with gestures full of extreme malice, chuckling cruelly.

His captive shone blue with fear, but held firm, “Under Clause 375X of …”

But before he could say more the Zircon placed a one-shot espresso cup on the highly polished mahogany Queen Anne coffee table and reached for the percolator. “Sweetener?” it asked, sarcastically.

The prisoner fell screaming to the ceiling where it lay weeping and moaning. But still refusing to speak.

“So,” said the Zircon, “It is uttering you are not. Time to get unplayful. I’m afraid we are going to have to open the Nescafe!”

 

Flower Power – Phil Poyser

Flower Power

 

If you’re going to San Francisco,

wear a flower in your hair

for if this was a crossword clue,

it’s a Ribble you might wear.

 

But if it’s flower power you want,

here’s my word contorted list.

It reeks of puns and plays on words.

Is there any one I’ve missed?

 

There’s hydrangea-electric. You see where this is going?

Petunium, geradium and ger-uranium are glowing.

Then coal-iflower and fuschial fuels take a lot of beating.

Have you considered grass- or v-oil-et-fired central heating?

 

Take stem-powered locomotives. Buy petal-driven cars.

Sunflower’s the source of Life here, just one of lots of stars.

With solanum panels on your roof, update your insulation.

I think I’ll draw this to a close and stop the irritation.

 

© Phil Poyser, Macclesfield, 5^th. February, 2013

Powerhouse Poem – Phil Poyser

Power House Poem

 

This verse comes with a warning.

It will be just 8 lines long.

It’s jam-packed full of energy.

It’s a silver-backed King Kong.

It throbs with power, vibrates with oomph.

It resonates in your brain.

It’s gelignite. It’s dynamite.

It’s a fuel that’s high octrain.

 

© Phil Poyser, Macclesfield, 2^nd. February, 2013

Man and Superman – Phil Poyser

Man and Superman

 

My disguise is quite authentic:

dull, late 60s, humanoid.

My persona is eccentric.

My poems often nod to Freud.

 

But just beneath this outer coat

of liberal, middle-brower,

there lurks a crime-wave antidote,

a superpowered ker-pow-er.

 

When devastation’s on the cards,

when MacclesfieldTown’s attacked,

when councils lift the last safeguards

and short-sighted plans are backed,

 

I don my underpants and cloak

in some quiet deserted spot

and suddenly I’m Superbloke,

so don’t mess with me. Best not.

 

Developers’ mad plans are dropped

and the council soon recants.

My alter ego I adopt

when I wear my underpants.

 

Clad in lycra®, cloak and undies,

small town villains fear my name.

I’ll work weekdays, Sat’days, Sundays.

No job’s too wild nor too tame.

 

I’ve been known to swoop on bullies

or when litter vandals strike

and drop rubbish in our gullies,

Superbloke’s back on his bike.

 

So, remember when a crisis

needs resolving at a stroke,

I’ll perform my next ecdysis

and emerge as Superbloke.

 

© Phil Poyser, Macclesfield, 2^nd./3^rd. February, 2013

I Want to Be … and I Am … – Phil Poyser

I Want To Be ….. and I Am …….

 

I want to be a mountaineer who climbs towards the sky.

I want to be a swallow who dines out whilst he’s on high.

I want to be a long-haired cat who snuggles by the fire.

I want to be that mountaineer and climb forever higher.

 

I am a “funky” gibbon: the Goodies sang my song.

I am a hairy primate: to the jungle I belong.

I am the colour purple. I’m worn by rebels old.

I am the polar regions and I’m getting much less cold.

 

I am the melting glaciers and the shrinking thawed ice-floes.

I am the tinkling of the ice which in your glass just glows.

I am the whiff of kerosene you use on bonfire night.

I am the tongue exploring which will set your soul alight.

 

My grandson’s name is Maxim and he is one today.

and sometime soon I’ll visit him and play and play and play,

but I’m a Wednesday cyclist, two wheels my pride and joy

and all my spare time’s taken up in the wake of Sir Chris Hoy.

 

© Phil Poyser, Glossop, 31^st. January, 2013

 

(Written as a warm up exercise at the Word Wizard workshop run by Matt Black, the Derbyshire Poet Laureate).

Valentine 2013 – Phil Poyser

Valentine 2013

 

You’re the main course to my banquet,

Surprise du chef by Michel Roux.

You’re the sparkle in my champagne.

You’re a vintage Bolly too.

 

You’re a tasty soup for starters.

You’re prawn cocktail Mary Rose.

You’re so bootiful a turkey,

Such a pretty parson’s nose.

 

You’re my daily staple diet.

You’re the calories I crave.

You’re a chocoholic’s wet dream .

Oops! I so wanted to behave.

 

© Phil Poyser, Glossop, 31^st. January, 2013

(Written at the Word Wizard workshop run by Matt Black, the Derbyshire Poet Laureate).

The Bare Necessities: Excerpt – John D

This is an excerpt from the novel, The Bare Necessities 

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/278082

if you would like to read the rest, please go and support John D by downloading this free e-book.