Just Hear Them Ting Ting Tingaling ...

RUBBING RAG FARM

RUBBING  RAG  FARM

There is no respect here for the state of art.

Your last active breath ends your favour,

puts you out with the bones and broken hi-fi,

and the stable door I stopped repairing.

At this why bother end of things,forced

muddy to the brick world for a full shilling,

we return home daily to open mouths.

The outhouse and old stables demanding bread.

At this why bother end of things, tradition

grazes where the dirt track turns to green.

Hold your breath between shifts and listen.

Mowing men are singing in crops before the war.

Tony Noon

The Ghosts of Christmas Past ?

RIBBONS

RIBBONS

It was,of course,the railroad.

Made the movement possible.

Made all the big ideas mobile,

and the tracks,yes the tracks.

They kept us focused.

Stopped the concepts sliding.

Made it impossible for

our principles to deviate.

Along the way,maybe,

words were lost. Left

on dull embankments

to be picked over,

but close to the halts

around the long platforms

whole sentences grew.

Metaphors mixed and

waved like crowds

at every passing train.

Tony Noon

NEW FOR 2016

SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS on Trampoline

NO , PRIME MINISTER ? IS THERE A PLAN B FOR BREXIT ?

The Way To Touch a Star

THE WAY TO TOUCH A STAR

Not knowing, is the way to touch a star.

Small and half empty you can believe

that across the field and up the hill

you could hold that white light

in cupped hands and believing that,

you never need to go there.

Never need to really try and touch it.

Taller and full of concepts you know

on top of the highest of high places,

even on a ladder, on a tower there

your hand would only shrivel

in cold and empty air and the stars

would seem further from you.

Worse, you know they most likely died

before our fingers learnt to point.

Tony Noon