Poems from 26th June

Here are some poems from the Stanza session on Tuesday 26th June.

STRAIGHT FROM THE HORSE’S MOUTH | Paul Freeman
for Geoff
I would have put money
on his being born in winter,
so cold and unreasonable was he, so tight-mouthed
about tip-offs, yet so sure to back a winner
it was though he’d take the money
straight from the horse’s mouth.

I would have put money
on the 3.15 at Aintree
were it not for things getting out of hand
after I made some remark – off-hand,
a bit off-colour – about a horse that died that day
from foot-and-mouth,

and which resulted in me dropping my money
all over the floor, after he, an ex-jockey,
dropped his fist on my mouth.
I had to put my foot down on the money
that rolled under the pool table,
the pool table on which

I would have put money
were it not for one of the city boys,
cue in hand, who over-heard me drop my foot in it
and started getting out of order by mouthing off
with some remarks – off-the-cuff –
about putting his foot

in my money
where my mouth was
(or words to that effect) how I’d be spitting out leathery
words for weeks, the after-effects removed only
by rinsing thoroughly
with mouth wash.

I would have put money
on its starting to rain the moment I walked out the pub – heavy,
mouth-of-the-storm stuff.
So cold was it, such unseasonable weather,
I would have put money
on its being born in winter.

BABYCHAM MEMORIES | Jenny Hammond

The woman outside wears frumpy jumpers,
disguises her bulges with baggy trousers
shuffles about in threadbare slippers,
curlers under her headscarf.

The woman outside swallows pills for arthritis,
grows a moustache of superfluous hair,
with thread-veins and blotches on cheeks lined with wrinkles
over her double chin.

Reflects on the time when she followed the fashions,
her shoulder-length hair, pinned up in a pleat
or back-combed to bouffant, sprayed stiff with lacquer,
exciting the local boys.

How she longed for someone to ask her to dance
at the Saturday hop in the village hall,
how she posed with a cigarette poised between fingers,
sipping a Babycham.

The woman outside hides the woman inside,
who sings to herself when no-one can hear,
dances alone to gramophone records,
smiles at her memories.

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About theleopard66

I am a member of the Stoke Stanza of The Poetry Society and run a bi-monthly Poems & Pints event in Alsager.
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