Knackered Up (“My Neighbour” chapbook)

his outbuildings, more out than they should be. Outside bog still hung with bogroll newspaper he cuts up himself. He used to keep pigeons but they all died of rat poison he scattered after spotting droppings in their cage. Entry way made for horse and trap still echoes to cobbles not concreted over. Red bricks still marked “Wombwell brickworks” or “Wombwell Colliery”.Flatcapped in shirtsleeves he saws wood folk leave in the entryway to feed his grate. He says “I’m a modern man”.

 

via Daily Prompt: Knackered

Coloured Her Roots

Brazen. I’m telling ya.

Is brazen a new colour?

Oh, you. If you’d had sense you were born with…

My Dad said you didn’t need no sense if you’ve got legs like mine.

And see where that led ya. Mark my words, be same for her colouring her hair like that. As if she didn’t have a mother.

I never.

Course you bloody did. Only your dad disowned after she were found with that gypsy.

He were sorting some clothes pegs for her.

Owt tha says.

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Roots

“Picked Apple Falls Hard On Him” featured by Jamie Dedes in “Parable of the Red Birds” and other poems by poets in response to last Wednesday’s Writing Prompt

“Picked Apple Falls Hard On Him” featured by Jamie Dedes in
“Parable of the Red Birds” and other poems by poets in response to last Wednesday’s Writing Prompt
https://jamiededes.com/2017/04/25/parable-of-the-red-birds-and-other-poems-by-poets-in-response-to-last-wenesdays-writing-prompt/ via @JamieDedes

Like I Before (Poetry Month #25)

sober and undrugged rehearse the words in my head
to my wife in the kitchen “I’ll have a cup a coffee,
Please, love,” but instead hear myself say
“Ittlebut wattleap…” recognise nonsense so apologise with a “Spiotonapom”
I see my right hand side as a grey blur,

my left hand side is clear and sharp,
my headaches. I can’t communicate.

I wobble as my brain sloshes one
side of my skull to the other until I sit.

“Another panic attack?” asks my wife.

via Daily Prompt: Gray