(Tanka) Sand

A handful of sand 

found in a shoe doesn't make 

a beach, but it might

resurrect lost memories 

of childhood visits to one!

(Tanka) Leaf-blowers

How is it that we 

exist, on a lump of rock, 

the perfect distance 

from a nice warm sun, yet we

go and invent leaf-blowers?

Plans

Is your head full of plans?

My head is always full of plans!

Plans to do the washing,

write poems,

and "where the hell are the delivery men?"

Stuff like that!

They spin around like the clothes in my new tumble dryer.

I'm very excited about my new tumble dryer!

One plan somehow clambers to the top of the pile,

and grabs my attention 

so I start down the road, 

of following that particular plan

and I forget all those other plans,

those that were previously tumbling around my head.

So what happend to all those other plans,

the ones that were previously,

filling my head,

the ones I forgot,

like - your plans to do the washing,

write poems,

and "where the hell are the delivery men?"

You become engrossed, following that one particular plan,

it was something you hadn't previously planned for,

and you forgot all the others - for now anyway,

until the tumble dryer in your head starts up again,

and another plan somehow clambers to the top of the pile,

and off we go again!

Oh why must life be so complicated?!

I didn't climb

A wiseman can sometimes play the fool.

Although we've put men on the moon - 1969 was a long time ago!

I keep it in my head,

and for this reason

I've had to descend a mountain 

I didn't climb.

(Tanka) Cushions

How come an object

such as a cushion which is

meant to be comfy,

and soft, can have such pointy,

sharp, uncomfortable corners?

(untitled)

It is war; only with rules.

It's a battle between two sides. To take ground, 

to enter enemy territory

and to inflict loss.

It's a campaign fought over many battles,

battles set in vast theatres of noise,

hope and expectation.

It's Rome and the Colusium.

It's feasting and drinking

a Colusium of death to the opposition.

Two opposing generals standing to one side 

shout their orders

to fit,

young,

practiced warriors,

dressed in colours

mirrored by the crowds who come and pay their coin and watch.

On a command,

the warriors withdraw,

regroup, 

and under the guidance of their respective generals

reasses their progress,

reconsider tactics,

then on a call,

return to fight once more.

The combatants apply the new plan with skill and determination.

The crowds become baying mobs,

chanting,

singing their anthems,

shouting abuse!

This is their territory and the opposition are not welcome!

The generals call for reinforcements

making changes,

swapping one injured warrior for a fit replacement

selected from the sidelines.

This battle must be won 

they use all the clever tactics they have to hand.

The two sides give all they have to give.

They fight this battle

to win this war...

...this war that is football!