The Pantomime Horse
The Pantomime Horse
in the theatre corral
is proving unbroken
a wayward cheval
he's trapped them inside
at the rear and the front
they're no longer amused
by this equinine stunt
he's called for some wild-oats
and now for a mare
Oh who wrote the script
for this torrid affair
so a Rodeo-Vet was hired for the day
and thank God for the curtain
and pretend bales of hay.
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Backstage
The Pantomime Horse
in the theatre corral
is proving unbroken
a wayward cheval
he's trapped them inside
at the rear and the front
they're no longer amused
by this equinine stunt
he's called for some wild-oats
and now for a mare
Oh who wrote the script
for this torrid affair
so a Rodeo-Vet was hired for the day
and thank God for the curtain
and pretend bales of hay.
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Steam-train to the stars
there would be no count-down
or blast-off
no excessive speed
just a gradual accelaration
no need for cumbersome attire
a blazer or a sweater would suffice
they're off
roof-top height
then the clouds
or is it steam
or smoke
or fire
no it's the setting sun
and then the parachutes
we counted three
[...] Read more
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Supermarket Spring
brazen hussy at the check-out desk
cast aside her thermal vest
and without anymore ado
treated the Tesco's weekend queue
to a Vernal Equinox Review
and with cheesecake, melons and Danish-Blue
showed what one or two could do
of the chicken-breast for one man's tea
she revealed it's true inadequacy
oh how Spring was sprung in every aisle
as she took off for more air-miles
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Walking The Dog
a butterfly didn't flap a wing
but maybe if it had
and the grebe had held it's breath
below the surface
as the the river stopped it's flow
when the dog-leads intertwined
would they have paused to find
that dog-walking
was the last thing on their minds
but it all passed by as unthink
a moment out of sync
and there as a still-born aftermath
it lay unnoticed
curled-up on the path.
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Shootout
after Sydney Nolan's Ned Kelly paintings
home-made suits of armour
protection against assault in the outback
now unseen through the window
grey dog
the sea laps
so with eyes closed
ear pressed to wall
the other senses laid out on the table
it's as bleak as you want to make it
then from the radio
barbs reach out
bullets fly
some will get through
burning holes
fierce sun
[...] Read more
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Leave Naples and die
Taxi to hotel Saraceni Positano
spiralling down to Positano
oh Saint Ferrari guide him well
locked inside our black Mercedes
white teeth shining
mouth of Hell
clinging hold of bougainvillaeas
bold centurian wine-dark sea
Saracens of Saraceni
cast your nets and rescue me
diving deep with flattened pinions
clawing fingers eagles thrust
veni vino
grip Pirelli
arriva sideways in the dust
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
beam me up Scotty
beam me up Scotty
I can't get in reverse
we're heading for Nirvana
or maybe somewhere worse
just get me off this planet
we're orbiting too fast
whizzing round in circles
running out of gas
the Angel of co-ordinates
alone behind the bar
broke it to him gently
the Starship's gone awa
now a lonesome voice comes driftin
from the tumbleweed salon
'can't you hear me Scotty
it's me just hanging on'
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Last Train
the last train to the stars
would leave on time
now a straggling wind
that blows along the line
banks shadows up against a wall
and there they terminally rise and fall
they tangle with the echoings of footsteps
breaking out of ground
and the station clockwhite face
astounded at it all
soon we'll hear the pistons race
somewhere the engine sigh
in corridors uncertain
just watching space drift by
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Puppeteer Dies
the puppeteer dies
and black sunrise
a single tear falls to her breast
white on white
bonjour tristesse
her fallen hero
twisted strings
their staring eyes
and no bird sings
that day he died
released the world from all it's strings
and under papier-mache skies
with crimsoned cheeks
and wild wide eyes
they did their burn-out promenade
[...] Read more
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!