Sheilagh Dyson in full GB Olympics mode, 2012
Balanced Baking (a triolet)Weigh the eggs, butter, sugar and flour
For a perfect Victoria sponge.
All must weigh the same, same power.
Weigh the eggs, butter, sugar and flour
Whisk and fold and blend and now you
Mix with love to a sloppy gunge.
Weigh the eggs, butter, sugar and flour
For a perfect Victoria sponge.
One Thousand (a found poem)
Something to a few,
a woman whose life was a mess
before the bitterness
do I starve this year?
Come hold me now
come see the sun
come stand with me
lay down the tracks
From a wild sky painted furious
crumpled metal objects
the brass blasts of the Salvation band
hear the horses coming closer, see the gallons of blood
twisting grey
tunnels, stale urine light and a voice
like dandelion seeds
that warns of gaps
This is the light to live in
Thinking
I could bring him to life with nothing more than hope
and the power of my own mind
religion and fecking psychics
they weren’t my first choice
not my intention
You will be left wearing pants
being trodden underfoot
Rabbit holes lead to burrows
and gardens aren’t a secret
The place we lay when no more days to give
it won’t be sad.
A Blackpool Fantasy
Winter.
Wind whistling, litter rat-tat-tat-ing,
no-one around, just me,
no-one looking, just me.
I climb into the zip-wire harness
on the roof of the Winter Gardens
and start the slow descent across St. John’s Square.
The softly glittering jewels of light through the church windows
rise up to meet me
and I glide effortlessly to greet the silent stone tiles.
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