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Jude writes poetry and short stories. She has had several short stories published and is currently working on a YA novel and putting together a poetry collection. She lives in the West Country.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * POEM FOR THE WEEK * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tuesday, 9 September 2014

Spider Thread

Sorry for blurriness, that's as good as I could get the image to look. You can't format this sort of thing on here as text.

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Response to mass letter sent to the voting public from Mr Cameron

Dear Mr Cameron, I’ve received your letter
saying the economy’s getting better
and how our mortgages are staying low.

I rent this house in case you didn’t know
and haven’t had a payrise in five years
whilst the rate of interest on my ISA
means my savings have no chance to grow.

It’s nice, despite my fears, to see you mention
I’ll have more leeway how I spend my pension;
I’m planning to buy cheaper beans from Aldi
and download blackleg versions of Vivaldi.

I’m very pleased you’ve asked what I would like,
providing boxes I might want to tick in,
but notice that there’s no space on the page
to write my extra comments. What’s the fricking
point of asking me for my opinion
when the choices are not those I'd vote on
and irrelevant to my position?

The boxes that I would prefer to choose from
would concern what I think Mr Cameron
should do? a) drop dead? or b) go to hell?
or c) resign? or d) let someone else
have a go at sorting out this mess?

In short I'd like it if you shoved your spin
up somewhere other than my rubbish bin.

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

The Cabinet Shuffle

Lets all do the Cabinet shuffle
(step to the Left, jump to the Right)
Sidestep all the real kerfuffle
(shimmy to the left, wiggle to the right)

Battle through the media scuffle
(Star to the Left, Mail to the Right)
When they ask a question, waffle
(stretch to the left, bend to the right)

Do it like they do in Brussels
(kiss to the left, bise to the right)
Do the Bump and do the Hustle
(twerk to the left, twank to the right)

So take your partners, strut your stuff (all
drift to the left, shift to the right)
and Breakdance to the cabinet shuffle
(twist to the left, spin to the right)

Thursday, 6 June 2013


Incorporating the 18 obsolete words from the article by Carmel Lobello in Death and Taxes online magazine, available at:

Thou bookwright! Honest worker thou art not!
No soda-squirt all day upon his feet!
No curglaff wakes thee to thy morning’s draft,
but gently into day sat on thy arse.
Spermologer, beef-witted in thy writ

that renders englishable witless phrase 
and jirbles tyromancy on thy page.
Thou groakest at the world without true bite
in pussyvan at
A queerplunger doth labour more than thou,
thou sloth in lunting slouch! Get thee a trade!
Support thy snoutfair wonder-wench with squirrel,
that zafty california widow who
inspires thy drivel! Get thee honest work!

beef-witted: Having an inactive brain from eating too much beef.
bookwright: An author; a term of slight contempt.
California widow: A wife whose husband is away for any extended period.
curglaff: The shock felt when one first plunges into the cold water.
englishable: That which may be rendered into English
groak: To silently watch someone eating, hoping to be invited to join them.
jirble: To pour a liquid with an unsteady hand.
lunting: Walking while smoking a pipe.
pussyvan: A flurry, temper.
queerplungers: Con-artists, scammers.
resistentialism: Seemingly spiteful behavior shown by inanimate objects.
snoutfair: A person with a handsome countenance.
soda-squirt: One who works at a soda fountain in New Mexico
spermologer: A picker-up of trivia, a gossip monger.
tyromancy: Superstition of divining by the coagulation of cheese.
with squirrel: Pregnant.
wonder-wench: A sweetheart.
zafty: A person very easily imposed upon

Tuesday, 30 April 2013

God Bless Google

‘Google is now regarded as being as trustworthy as religious institutions, according to a new survey of Britons.’ (Sky News, 30th April 2013)

Our Google Docs that art up in the Cloud,
hallowed be thy synchronisation.
Thy Gmail come,
thy Searchbar be done
in Google Earth as it is in Google Chrome.
Give us this day our daily animation
and forgive us our typos
as we forgive them
that don’t spellcheck their websites.
And lead us not into eBay
but deliver us to Google Wallet,
for thine is Google Page Rank,
Google Maps and GoogleApps
in the ether, forever.

Monday, 29 April 2013


When the barley straw
in the pond de-composes,
frogs will hip hop back.

Thursday, 25 April 2013

Darwin’s Goldfish

‘Meet Aussie the goldfish who swims upside down’
(The Daily Mail 08/08/08)

Even the goldfish
are starting to rebel,
swimming upside down,
bored with the status quo.
The rest of us wish
for alternatives as well,
but walking upside down
is probably not the way to go.

A sideways leap?
An idealistic rebound?
Or shall we all just go on swimming
this way up and round and round?

I'm afraid the human race
Has missed it's niche.
It appears we’ve been
out-angled by a goldfish.

Friday, 12 April 2013

Wicker Woman

  (on the resurgence of  the song 'Ding, dong, the witch is dead' on the death of Margaret Hilda Thatcher, 1925-2013)

So those in power want to ban the song.
They feel the water lap around their boots.
This time it’s someone else. It won’t be long
Before it’s their turn knee deep in the sluice.
Ding dong, the doorbell rings. Who’s at the door?
Let’s hope it’s not those badly mannered poor
With their demands of equal this and that.
God help us, now the ship deserts the rat.
The witch is dead and tap, tap here’s the wake
With fire in their eyes to light the stake.
The crone is gone, but here’s her legacy,
A world of ‘trickle up’ economy.
The wicker woman waits upon the hill
If you won’t light the kindle then they will.

Sunday, 7 April 2013


He waits…
stays in bed all day,
gets up for food,
plays Minecraft,

he waits…
meets up with friends,
goes to the cinema,
comes home feeling ill,

he waits…
spends time with his family,
plays pool with his brother,
shares Youtube faves,
watches TV.

He waits
the holiday out;
goes to work on Monday,
slips back into routine.
The days pass…

She doesn’t call.
He waits.

Saturday, 6 April 2013

Could Be Verse

It ain’t really poetry,
It’s just crappy verse,
It ain’t laureate material
But it could be a lot worse.

At least I don’t my words invert
The rhythm make to fit
Or use crass colloquialisms
To rhyme with other shit.

My sentences is grammatical
My punctuations alway’s right
And their ain’t no spling mistakes
In the pottery wot I writes.

My themes is esoterical
My whatsits erudite
My handwriting is… something or other...
In the pottery wot I writes

I never just repeats a phrase
To fill in extra space
In the pottery what I rights
The write word’s the in the rite place.

So maybe it ain’t cannonised
And maybe it ain’t brill,
But it ain’t been plagiarised
Cos nobody else writes pottery like wot I does.

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