Wednesday, 30 November 2011


He lies-in
Until no more
Can he waste his day in bed
He must get up and use his head
Even if just for a while
Before he succumbs to procrastination's beguile
He'll type, he'll write
He'll delete and undo
He'll lie down some more
To see him through
Until the next

Clearly, the author enjoys sleep: the lexis 'lie-in' being a greatly significant aspect of the verse. However,  what is made less clear is whether the bed is an antecedent to his work, or the inhibiting factor of his creativity; which leads us to question - is the bed the creator or destroyer of creativity?

Thursday, 24 November 2011


Purple: the word which never rhymes
Stands like a vampire behind closed blinds
Avoiding light, lest he be devoured
Like milk and cereal before a shower
Purple: the bane of rhyming verse
Better shut away, like the vampire in his hurst
Whatever word proceeds purple first
Never succeeds in putting an end to verse
With such aptitude as purple's curse
Be it poem, novel, essay, or journal
Purple will never cease to curdle

I think the point the author is trying to make is that no matter the level of skill applied to rhyming the lexis 'purple,' it can't be done. Ironic perhaps.

Wednesday, 23 November 2011


Tea, a brew, a beverage, a cuppa
Perfect with breakfast, with lunch, and with supper
So, much more in that cup than an infusion of leaves?
The very identity in which us British believe
Symbolic of colonisation and power
Of conquest, of conquer, the whole world devoured
Each sip through the lips, rings the tongue like a bell
The familiar taste that we all know so well
Without tea, I ask, just who would we be?
In Russia its vodka, the Italians, mocha
In France it’s champagne, in Canada syrup
Ireland it’s Guinness drunken straight from the bola
In America cola, in Australia lager
I could go on, for the list goes much farther
My point, it is simple: the key’s in the cup
For energy, diversion, relief or immersion
One cup solves it all, every problem, makes small.

It is lucidly obvious the writer of such a fine verse loves tea.

Friday, 11 November 2011

Not Going Out

Perhaps tonight he'll take a break
Rest his liver and his face
Not for long, just for a while
Else he'll be coughing up something vile
Temporary rest
Is at its best
Superior to drinking
Ney, I jest

Whilst it is apparent that the author feels 'rest' and recuperation are necessary aspects of life, it is heavily emphasised that 'drinking' is ultimately better. The lexis 'drinking' in this context must surely refer to the manner in which mankind lives his life: being a metaphor for the process of Living.

Thursday, 3 November 2011


Rain falls heavy
Upon once dry ground
Man embraces droplets cold
As heat dissipates
From his sweating form
Rain pours
Covers all
As if a blanket
Of water

Man's love of rain is portrayed as a natural and organic interest, in this verse, and his wish to embrace it is shown to stem from a desire to better control his own homeostasis: in itself a metaphor for the human condition to want control, dominance, and power.

Tuesday, 1 November 2011


Lasagne he eats
To full stomach keep
Whilst lacking in meat
Vegetables within taste sweet
With self-satifasction
For only his actions
Could ensure that he eats
For one pound a pop
When around him others
Spend more on more
He saves adequate currency
To stop him going hungry
By eating lasagne
For breakfast and lunch
Dinner, supper, elevenses, and brunch

Clearly the author has felt a need to convey not only the sense that he is in a favourable financial situation through his actions, but more importantly, that he need never go hungry. As such this is a metaphor for the greater spectrum of mankind's lifestyle: man need never go hungry if he eats on-pound lasagnes.