Been fiddling again

Another shape poem bites the dust never mind it sort of works like this, may fiddle with it later.

November

Golden
Flowers
Bloom in the sky spreading lace like
Till they drop fire flies
Biting
the
back of my throat jacket potato fog
a Catherine wheel drills

Through
Sulphur
Toffee smoking breath jumps out
in shouts and squeals
The
shapes
of people skipping fire tongues mad as
moths waving sparkling wands

That
fizzel
and plop into buckets that gasp. Soup
by the trestle load. Raw

Kneed
Boy
Scouts scrawl messy signs and offer tissue fists of hotdog

Glide
Steaming
clouds of onion. Coins clinking, hats pulled further down

Only the Guy prays for rain
He doesn’t know that it always rains

24 Hours

When you polished your long black boots
You smudged his face
With a dull heel print
The face with sad dark eyes
Yesterday it was news

In the mirror your eyes gleam with blue powder
All curled lashes
Hair tongues fresh
Skin and ebony hair
In a flick of red enamel
Newspaper and cotton wool
Shoved in a black bin liner
Like the one his mother buried him in

Doing Time

It was just a branch
Or so I thought
May confetti kissed my hair

I didn't know

'The wrongness'

I didn't know

'The badness'

So clasping its coolness
I danced a fine jig

Smashing through my lip
A voice came and stabbed me
Chest lurching
From the air
A heavy hand upon my neck

The yard all empty
Red with words
All angry
Beating down
Like sharp hot rain
Till my eyes burst open
With criminal offence
The evil swinging of a tree
Could only lead to worse

Destined for a life of crime
I trembled by the door
reserved for-miscreants
and malcontents
The clock kept ticking
Through the screaming voices
That wondered how
A slipper felt?
And what lurked there
called 'THE HEAD'?

And lest I should escape
The hand still-heavy on my neck

Older and bigger now
I'm called down to school
About my little one
Heart in mouth........
The clock keeps ticking

Nervous

Voices

In

My

Head

Outside-another-door
I feel myself tremble
And lest I should escape
The hand still-heavy on my neck

Notes for Pupils

As from the beginning of term
Talking
Sniggering
Chatting
And loud breathing will be banned

As will:
Scribbling notes
Inappropriate use of imagination
Smug expressions
Knowing looks
Sign Language
Thinking you know it all
Thinking
Not being amused by your teacher’s jokes
Chewing
Looking as if you're chewing
Redesigning your uniform
To reflect a possible personality
Dreaming about being someone else
Dreaming about being somewhere else
Students

The following will be aloud in moderation:

Intelligence may be displayed
as long as not accompanied by
anything of a rebellious nature
such as questions

The offensive and probing nature of questions
must always be considered, but if in doubt don't
discuss it among yourselves. (see chatting)

It is worth noting that teachers with a straight
mouth are usually struggling to control the urge to kill

Take this as a warning and even if you don't know what you've done
Stop doing it now

Famous

For a while when I was little
I was famous
All my relatives queued
To see how tiny I was.
My acrobatic crawling,
Reported down the phone
To every family member
Walking was no less well received.
My first words so profound
I was called upon to speak
At every celebration
And I always got applause.
When I sang
Silence fell about the room
I performed endlessly
And always got rave reviews.

But it seems fame
Is a fickle thing?
Today you asked me to be quiet
So you could watch the telly?