Collected Poems Read online

  it hurt like hell.

  He walked and walked

  and never talked

  just walked and walked

  until he fell.

  Uncle Pat

  Going in to bat

  against the Windies

  in his first (and final) Test

  Uncle Pat

  wore vinyl undies

  and an armour-plated vest.

  But in the panic to get dressed

  (wickets falling thick and fast)

  left his box off.

  Third ball took his rocks off.

  Cousin Caroline

  Cousin Caroline

  was a very fine

  sprinter. In the winter

  of 1988, with a

  bandaged knee

  she ran the 100

  metres in 10.3

  But her best time

  was in the dressing room afterwards.

  Uncle Anthony

  Uncle Anthony

  was a low hurdler.

  Being only 4′ 6˝

  he was the lowest

  hurdler in Bridlington.

  In his summer of ’42

  he married a Northern Counties

  high jumper, who,

  delighted to please,

  being 2 foot taller,

  straddled him with ease.

  Kung Fu Lee

  Kung Fu Lee

  a greenbelt

  with a reputation second to none

  was more than vexed

  when annexed

  and one morning built upon.

  Albert Robinson

  Albert Robinson

  (a half-cousin by marriage)

  is probably the only

  bullfighter in Birmingham.

  At five in the afternoon

  he parades round the Bull Ring

  in his Suit of Lights

  (an army battledress

  and panty tights

  sequinned plimsolls

  and padded flies)

  a faraway look

  in his faraway eyes.

  For he struts beneath

  Andalusian skies

  as concrete corridors

  echo the cries

  of aficionados

  in shoppers’ disguise:

  ‘El Robbo, El Robbo, el mas valiente matador!’

  On his way to the hostel

  he stops and he buys

  a carton of milk

  and two meat pies

  then it’s olé to bed

  and olé to rise.

  Cousin Chas

  Cousin Chas,

  an expert in the art

  of self-defence,

  would go out of his way

  to defend himself.

  ‘In an age

  of senseless violence,’

  he would hiss,

  ‘there is only one language

  people understand

  and it’s this.’

  Every Saturdaynight

  after a few pints

  Chas and his mates

  would roam the streets

  looking for pale young men

  against whom

  they would defend themselves.

  Cousin Chas

  may not have been

  one of Nature’s gentlemen

  but he was a right bastard.

  Aunty Dora

  A grandpiano of a woman is Aunty Dora.

  Limbering up on the 60-metre board

  she throws the pool into shadow.

  What with the shaking and the creaking

  a spectator might expect a soaking

  a depthcharge of nuclear proportions

  But no.

  Her dive

  is as

  delicate

  as an

  hibiscus

  unfolding

  in slowmo.

  Like thistledown on the air

  she drifts, turns, almost lingers there

  until her fingers tap the meniscus

  The surface opens soundlessly

  and pulling in her shadow after her

  Aunty Dora and water are one.

  Aunt Ermintrude

  Aunt Ermintrude

  was determined to

  swim across the Channel.

  Each week she’d

  practise in the bath

  encostumèd in flannel.

  The tap end

  was Cap Gris Nez

  the slippy slopes

  were Dover. She’d

  doggypaddle up and down

  vaselined all over.

  After 18 months, Aunt Erm was in peak condition.

  So, one cold grey morning in March

  she boarded the Channel steamer at Dover

  went straight to her cabin

  climbed into the bath

  and urged on by a few well-wishers,

  Aunt Ermintrude, completely nude

  swam all the way to France.

  Vive la tante!

  Uncle Bram

  Uncle Bram

  a batcatcher of distinction

  scorned the use of

  battraps, batnets and batpoison.

  ‘Newfangled nonsense,’

  he would scoff, and off

  he would go

  to hang upsidedown

  in belfries

  for days on end

  in the hope of snatching

  one of the little batstards.

  Billy Our Kid

  Billy our Kid

  was the dandy

  of the snooker halls

  He affected

  brocade waistcoats

  of uncertain hue

  and with his trusty

  pearlhandled cue

  hustled many an

  amateur passerthrough.

  In ’69 he went to New Orleans

  to try his luck.

  Now he lives in Pittsburgh

  and drives a truck.

  Wild Bill Sitting Bull

  Wild Bill Sitting Bull

  (half cowboy, half Sioux)

  confused by watching Westerns

  went in search of caribou.

  In the Badlands

  he was strangled

  by his spangled lasso

  Did a wardance

  then scalped himself

  like a man’s gotta do.

  Uncle Noah

  A man mountain

  was Uncle Noah

  the best hammer-thrower

  in Western Samoa.

  Once, in the midst

  of a magnificent throw

  he lost concentration

  and forgot to let go.

  Flew out of the stadium

  and up into space

  a puzzled expression

  on his pustular face.

  At first it was fun

  in a stomach-churning way

  but once round the planet

  he called it a day.

  Free of encumbrance

  the ex-hammer-thrower

  plummeted earthwards

  towards Krakatoa.

  Into the mouth

  of the crater he rushed

  right down its throat

  like a finger, pushed.

  With a gulp disappeared

  into the bubbling lava

  the volcano heaved

  and threw up over Java.

  Since the eruption, experts say,

  of mighty Krakatoa

  Sunsets have been spectacular

  (so, thank you, Uncle Noah).

  Granny

  Granny plays whist

  better when pwhist.

  Dear Lonely Hearts

  ‘Dear Lonely Hearts,

  my name is Nate

  my hobbies are weightlifting

  and tempting fate.’

  ‘Dear Nate,

  my name is Kate

  my hobby is weightwatching

  please name the date.’

  He showered her with gifts
/>
  Now Kate watches as Nate lifts.

  Cousin Reggie

  Cousin Reggie

  who adores the sea

  lives in the Midlands

  unfortunately.

  He surfs down escalators

  in department stores

  and swims in the High Street

  on all of his fours.

  Sunbathes on the pavement

  paddles in the gutter

  (I think our Reggie’s

  a bit of a nutter).

  Angelina

  Angelina

  (blueblooded)

  owned a yacht

  and smoked pacht

  a lacht.

  So when things

  gacht hacht

  away sailed Angelina

  (so regal)

  to where the grass was greener

  (and legal).

  Uncle Sean

  If they held Olympic contests

  for brick-throwing

  Uncle Sean would win them all

  at all.

  But they don’t.

  So he carries hods for Wimpeys

  and dreams of glories

  that might have been.

  Uncle Sean lives in Coventry

  a stone’s throw away

  from the Albert Hall

  at all.

  Merve the Swerve

  Merve the Swerve

  an old tennis pro

  Won the French Open

  the US and oh!

  He started snorting

  lines of snow

  Umpires warned

  it would end in tears

  Now Mervyn’s serving

  seven years.

  Terry and Pancho

  Last year

  Terry and Pancho

  won the Men’s Doubles.

  One had… uhm… troubles.

  They were fixed

  This year

  Terri and Pancho

  won the Mixed.

  Uncle Jack

  Uncle Jack

  was a very cross

  country runner.

  Nothing seemed

  to make him happy.

  With only one lung

  he couldn’t run fast

  so he took short cuts

  and still came last.

  And meaner still

  of Uncle Jack

  some of the short cuts he took

  he never gave back.

  Uncle Trevor and Aunty Penny

  Uncle Trevor and Aunty Penny

  won the Northamptonshire

  ballroom dancing championship

  seven times on the foxtrot.

  Practice makes perfect.

  Every night after saying their prayers

  they glide round the bedroom

  for hours on end.

  (The nightdress Aunty Penny

  wears, she made herself

  out of 250 yards

  of floral winceyette.)

  Uncle Trevor, however,

  made of sterner stuff

  to’s and fro’ze

  in the buff.

  Cousin Horatio

  Cousin Horatio

  won a ten pound bet

  by rowing across the Atlantic

  singlehanded. Six months later

  he confessed to having used

  both hands, and rather

  than face public scorn

  sailed from Exmouth

  one grey dawn

  wrote up his log

  tidily

  then committed himself to the deep

  suicidily.

  Alf

  Alf

  on his day off from Billy Smart’s,

  tarts himself up. Puts on

  his best monkey boots and braces

  and races down to Clacton with his mates.

  He hates so much it features

  as a gruesome tattoo.

  Pea-brained and circus-trained

  a skinhead through and through.

  Alf

  is famous for his fighting skills

  and rightly so.

  He knocks out teeth with an entrechat

  then pirouettes on his toe.

  With a flick of the hip

  and a backward flip

  he blackens eyes. It’s no surprise

  he’s the toast of the south coast

  no butts about it.

  He handstands on noses

  then poses, so bold,

  and his somersaults to the groin

  are a joy to behold.

  Alf

  is an aggrobat.

  Alfreda

  His sister Alfreda

  was somewhat gentler

  (though some would argue

  even mentler).

  A juggler who would only juggle

  with objects beginning with A

  like acorns, armchairs and armadillos

  alarm clocks and albatrosses

  aspidistras, and one day

  an alligator

  which went straight for the juggler.

  Cousin Fosbury

  Cousin Fosbury

  took his highjumping seriously.

  To ensure a floppier flop

  he consulted a contortionist

  and had his vertebrae removed

  by a backstreet vertebraeortionist.

  Now he clears 8 foot with ease

  and sleeps with his head

  tucked under his knees.

  Aunt Agatha

  Aunt Agatha

  blooded at five

  loves to hunt foxes

  and eat them alive.

  No horsewoman,

  she prefers to run

  with the hounds.

  On all fours

  shod in running-

  gloves and shoes,

  no dog can match her

  and once on the scent

  nose smell-bent

  no horse can catch her.

  And she snaps

  and she barks

  and she urges the pack

  onward on

  to her bushy-tailed snack.

  Tongue flapping

  huntingpink suit

  nostrils aflare

  beware any hare

  caught napping

  en route.

  And she snaps

  and she barks

  and she urges the pack

  onward on

  to her bushy-tailed snack.

  D’ye ken Aunt Agatha

  in her coat so gay

  D’ye ken Aunt Agatha

  at the close of day

  houndsurrounded

  tearing into foxflesh.

  Old Mac

  Old Mac, seventyodd

  and eyes akimbo

  was a prizefighter

  in his youth.

  Some nights in the bar

  when he’s had a few

  he’ll spar

  with ghosts of pugilists

  long since counted out.

  Old Mac, still in training

  for his final bout.

  Eno

  To be a sumo wrestler

  It pays to be fat.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Eno,

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  So he took his skinny

  little frame

  to Tokyo

  in search of fame.

  But even with God on

  his side

  Eno got trod on

  and died.

  Marvin

  Never hangglide

  with a hangover

  as Marvin did

  near Andover.

  Dying for a whisky

  to straighten his head

  ‘Just one for the road’

  is in fact what he said

  Saw the pub on the left

  turned right instead

  Hit the M23 near the junction of the A303.

  (Now, if he had turned left at the A34 he would have carried on to Newbury and swun
g a right at the A339 to Basingstoke. Alternatively, had he taken the A3057, he might have avoided the road works and then had the choice of reaching the M27 just south of Romsey, or coming off at the A30 and going straight through to Salisbury. Anyway, it’s too late now, he’s dead.)

  Barry Bungee

  Barry Bungee

  who loved to dive

  thrust himself upon fate

  and didn’t survive.

  Life and death

  it was just a game

  To Bungee-jumping

  gave his name.

  The first and only

  jump he made

  was from City Hall

  in Adelaide.

  Securing the bungee

  to the base

  he scaled the building

  at a leisurely pace.

  And from the roof

  hands on hips

  surveyed a crowd

  biting its lips

  then jumped. The bungee

  coiled like a garden hose.

  Only the ground

  kept its mouth closed.

  Uncle Jason

  Uncle Jason, an ace in the Royal Flying Corps

  grew up and old into a terrible borps.

  He’d take off from tables to play the Great Worps

  stretch out his arms and crash to the florps.

  His sister, an exSister (now rich) of the Porps,

  would rorps forps morps: ‘Encorps! Encorps!’

  Cousin Christ

  Cousin Christ (né Derek)

  got out of bed at 8 to meditate.