SONGS FROM A WOODEN HOUSE is a collection of more than forty poems which are both light-hearted and thought-provoking.
With titles such as Love Is…, The Tribulations of a Hungry Buddhist Spider and Desert Island Vegetables these poems can be read anywhere, at any time, whether on a packed commuter train on your way to work or curled up before the fire late at night.
Whether you like the utterly absurd Ice-cream Related Injuries or prefer to get lost in the concepts talked about in Life, there will be something in SONGS for all the blackest of souls…
ARE YOU SITTING COMFORTABLY?
Sitting as the Sun goes down, inside a house of wood
With seagulls flying overhead and blackbirds on the roof
Jenny Wren investigates a flower in a pot
I'll have to take my jumper off, 'cos by the heck it's hot
My juggling balls beside me on a chair just to my right
The blackbird stills his song and looks for worms upon the lawn
The timbers creak around me as a wind descends from out the blue
And an awful smell assails my nose - it comes from out of my left shoe
I gaze out up above me, just as far as my two eyes can see
For I'm sitting cross-legged, it's the only way to be.
What is that?
It's a little habit.
A quirk of mine
Like squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle
Or singing all your favourite songs out of rhyme
It's a little special something
A reason why you love me
Like knowing that your favourite colour is blue
And if you get annoyed
By all my predilections
Remember for a minute
That you've got them too.
Coo! Went the pigeon
Caw! Went the crow
Though whatever any of it means
I guess I'll never know
Chatter! Went the magpie
Roar! Went the lion -
Hey! What are you doing in my aviary - aaaarrrghh!
The buds in the soil in the pots on the terrace
Climb towards the heavens with unstoppable force
The stumbling of a springbok, out on the savannah
Is leapt on by a leopard without shame or remorse
The corals in the seas, mightily proliferate
Pushing back the boundaries of the places they abound
Our tiny blue-green planet, revolves around the galaxy
Circling the Sun, around and round and round
What happens next in our circle of existence?
Where else is there left for us to go?
The deepest of the oceans or out into the universe
Or perhaps inside our consciousness - we just don't know
As I was travelling I got lost
And stopped to ask directions
When I came upon a man
Sat down in deep reflections
"Excuse me sir, but could you tell
Which way I have to go?"
But he just stared at me, disgruntled
And stamped upon my toe
What would it be to be a table?
To be all firm and stable
And also to be able
To hold things on my head
Or perhaps to be window?
That people could see through
To look out on the rain and snow
While snuggled up in bed
And what about a carpet?
Or a fancy, fragile fishing net?
A new and shiny jumbo jet,
Or a simple loaf of bread?
Oh woe oh woe oh woe is me!
That I will never be a tree
Nor a recalcitrant donkey
For I'm a man instead
But am I right to curse my lot?
To wish that I am things I'm not?
Am I just a drunken sot?
Or have I really lost the plot?
And will it matter just one jot
After I am dead?
Pulling at my eyes
Dragging me down
Dragging me down towards
I crave the darkness
My body at rest
Breaking the fetters
Of my mind
Flying in the boundless
Realms where we dream
I must sleep now
I'm so tired
I'm longing to sleep
Closing my eyes
It won't be long now
I feel myself sinking
Into the deep