Saturday, 31 December 2011

Andrew Spice

When he dances
in a turn, a jump,
a killer smile,
he has a plan
more cunning than
a Broadway star,
more ancient than
a Stratford Bard.

Whatever they’re thinking
he’ll make them feel
more human, more real,
from the depth of a wellspring

 ‘Remember. Remember; yeah, yeah!
They will remember me!’

Wednesday, 28 December 2011


goes back to the wife and kids,
drives through amber on the way;
ready for his running club,
then a final drop of lids;
snoring like a dozy bear,
snorting like a horse in hay.

One day he’ll come back home and blub,
- wail - as every baby can:

missing sunrise, waving corn,
huddles, eyeballs, nothing more.