random poems from my free ebook poem download

MR PALMER’S TRACTOR

“Eeh lad, I’ve had this ’ere tractor sixty-eight years and it still runs strong.”

Well, Mr Palmer, it sure sounds fine from here, just listen to that big old engine.

I think that everyone should have one so they can sit on the hard metal seat,

wearing a flat cap and say what fun it is.

With big fat wheels at the back there is no place it can’t go.

Everyone envies Mr Palmer’s old antique tractor – they say,

“’ere comes Mr Palmer on his little Nelly. Eeh, God bless them both.”

COLOURS

A dozen fragile dots of green lift up from the earth to soar up into the blue.

Climbing higher and higher in great steep spirals they chase a hundred silver blobs shimmering under the yellow summer sun, in the deep blue viridian blue.

Red suns of burning fire cling to the dancing green shapes as if not to fall off.

When green meets silver it’s for a fleeting moment that sometimes ends in a huge yellow flash, often both colours are no more.

The silver blobs leave huge white gossamer trails across the heavens,

a trail of water vapour challenging the green dots with their might: come and get me!

ALL ALONE

The pussycat remembers back to only yesterday

when she used to run and chase her feline friend.

But that’s just a sad memory now as she sits all alone

and remembers what had once been.

Years of fun and enjoyment ended abruptly

after the car mercilessly killed Tigger.

Now pining little Chocolate Drop

has no friend, only pain.

FIREFLY

Take off is at dawn just as the sun is on the horizon, we climb through the warm air, our planes turning to fireflies in the new day’s light.

This is our moment of glory as we turn to eagles and become one with the sky.

Levelling off we go in search of the enemy. Though we cant see them they will be here, waiting and watching ready to pounce. There! Out of the sun at tremendous speed they come.

In a second the fight is joined; already a turning plane dies as it explodes to fire and burns as bright as the sun.

Round and round they go as the fate of our nation is decided in the air, a surreal dance of man and machine.

CLARKY

My mate Clarky is quite a star, he looks like a convict and walks like a pirate.

His legs ain’t pot though they’re riddled with arthritis and his ball sacks are full ’cause the women move too fast for him.

Everyone who knows him gets out of the way to escape his grouchy moods and short temper.

This is Mark, mankind’s crazy one-off, a Park Cakes special.

MUSTINESS

The musty smell of the old pub fills the air.

It reminds me of an old house –

how many people have lived, loved and laughed?

It reminds me of an old bus –

how many people have journeyed,

have missed deadlines through

delays, have dreamed.

All that is old, all that is mustiness.