Day: October 9, 2018

Where are your tonsils?

I said, show me your pencils, not where are your tonsils.
I said your dinner is ready, not  you’re a sinner already
I said, I have no honey, not give me your money.
I said,I’m not afraid. not I’m Dr Freud
I said,I love your dear profile not  buy me a new mobile.
I said, what time is supper, not I hate your kippers
I said, I’ll make some hot toast not  where is the post.
I said, are we still married not  I hate Hubert Parry
The lark was  ascending ,I did not mention ending
Where is the humour  when we listen to rumours?

Yorkshire

There was a long low white house  in a steep lane
I’m sitting on a drystone wall smiling at you
I’m wearing a fuchsia T shirt and a long blue cotton skirt
And some Chris Brasher hiking books
I am happy, that is clear.

I got stuck climbing some rocks
But some young men helped me.
Why did we do that with no training?
On the moor lots of people,women alone
Families, groups, it was green and pleasant.

I am looking at this photograph you took
But you’re not here.Noone else will know
But I know

Poems about the tongue

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/tongue

 

The Tongue

Chris Martin

for Ben Estes

So taste
as day
rearranges the red
and orange flowers
from tongue to tongue
like losing the cymbal’s 
clang for all its glints
we crept behind the moon
which always insists on sleeping over 
barely a belly for a mouth
an hour past the movie
we were still filming 
the way food fills
each curving lapse
between your teeth
or song
in sheets
against the windshield
no one believes
air is the enemy
so don’t be afraid
to breathe all this speech
someone already died to say
the moon is on the couch
so we climb onto the roof
where our bellies swell open
to slosh and go flowers
red and orange flowers
hairy and pink-stemmed
like champagne flutes
we always overuse
everything that 
happens happens
wrong if not
by tongue’s might
in the little time
left before sun drives
all the workers into work
all the workers into work