Examples

Killing the Piano

We tried to save you with small ads.
Free to good home, must collect
but nobody called.

We tried schools and churches,
community centres,
but none were prepared to accommodate you.
No room for the past,
no use for tradition,
and each back turned
was another key condemned.

Once we dragged you a hundred miles north
and later a hundred back.
My faithful friend as I learnt how to play
from scales and triads
to Für Elise and the Nut Rocker.

But for years you stood
lid down, barely touched,
except by the clumsy fists of children,
bashing a blind fortissimo,
untroubled by rhythm or melody,
unaware that every good boy deserves favour.

For years you stood,
an obstacle,
an inconvenience,
silently slipping out of tune.

It fell to me to strike the killing blow,
consign you to the fate we’d tried to swerve,
Behind the crack of splintering walnut
I could hear a heart

breaking.

Old Fred

They know what he drinks,
and that he likes it in a glass with a handle.

They know he never comes in on Tuesdays.

They know where he sits,
and how all of his stories
have changed over the years.

They know his kids and grandkids,
although they’ve never met,
and on the day that he doesn’t show up
they know who to call.

Old Fred beermat

I’m in Love with Keeley Donovan

I’m in love with Keeley Donovan,
weathergirl extraordinaire.
I love her figure-hugging dresses,
cheeky smile and silky hair.
I love the way she can’t stand still,
rocks back and forth, sways side to side.
I love the fact she’s just a very
tiny little bit cross-eyed.

I’m in love with Keeley Donovan.
I hate it when Paul Hudson’s on.
I’ve sat through half a boring hour
of garden gnomes and knit-a-thons,
then he shows up and my heart sinks.
All I want is lovely Keeley.
I switch him off, I couldn’t give
a toss about the forecast really.

I’m just in love with Keeley Donovan.
She’s the sun that warms my heart.
She’s the storm within my soul,
the bolt of lightning through the dark,
but Keeley – I don’t think that you
and I can ever be together,
if you don’t stop banging on and
on about the bloody weather.

Advertisements