Tag: lyrics

Home

Beneath the furled canopy of
Ever green dreams,
Narrow lanes carve through clay
Excavating memories. They
…

On rocks

For all those who argue. For those who can be irrational and unreasonable and who misremember the facts.

Song of Summer

Do you remember summer? It happened long ago
When Wealden hills gleamed green and pink, untainted by the snow.
 
The days flowed on like rivers carving a languid path
From shy blue beginnings to their golden epitaph.

…

Stardust

This is my love letter to Brian Cox, ha! No really, this is one for all the other science geeks out there who think that fact really is far more miraculous than fiction. 

I don’t need a God,

I’m made of stardust,

Of lust flowing from billions of atoms

That conspired to have me sired.

I am huge, I’m a giant,

…

Would you care?

This poem needs little explanation. I’m sure many people can identify with this feeling – the slow, cold realisation that you are losing someone you love:

Would you care if I left,

Would you be bereft? Would you cry?

Or would you sit dry eyed in despair?

Would you? Would you care?

Would you flood the lands with your tears

…

Toilet talk

For all the women who, like me, spent an unhealthy proportion of their twenties queuing in girls’ toilets in various clubs and bars across London.

He’s got a penis like a pritt-stick.

Oooh, is that lipstick?

Ah babe, can I borrow it?

Thanks love. Your tits

look bangin’ in that top.

Girls, chop chop in there!

…

If I should die

We mourn those who die but, really, who and what are we mourning for?

If I should die,

don’t cry for me.

I’ll be dead you see.

I’ll have gone,

escaped life’s throng

…

The man in the white Stetson

Some meetings are more memorable than others. Some are even worthy of a poem:

Deep in the Welsh mountains where revellers reeled,

We met in a rowdy and colourful field,

In a white Stetson hat, beside me he kneeled,

He was hunting for treasure, I was too, it was sealed.

…

Woman’s lust

There are so many poems written by men lusting after women. Traditionally, women are almost always depicted as the passive objects of desire rather than active or, god forbid, enthusiastic participants. It feels like a good time to start redressing the balance:

This is not love this is lust, she should have said.

I trust in my body far more than my head.

So, forget such tender feelings and come to bed.

…

Escape

I love sailing. For me, it offers the ultimate sense of freedom. It is full of possibility, free of boundaries, offering limitless horizons.

Of course, at times it can be deeply uncomfortable, wet, cold and frankly miserable but it is worth it for the feeling of adventure, for golden ocean sunsets and for escape from life’s sometimes stifling confinements. So:

Let’s sail away, let’s cast astray

Until the moonshine’s ghostly ray

…