Luke's take on yoga

When doing yoga, I apparently resemble a frog in most positions.

Yoga

'Are you stuck?'
'I'm doing yoga.'
'You look
Like a frog.
Is that one called the frog?'

'This is child's pose.'
'What?'
'Child's pose, that was;
This is downward dog.'

'You still look
Like a frog.'

The People Who Hide In The Bushes

Continuing the games theme.... Tonight I played Scrabble with Suzie, Charlotte and Emma. (Good game girls.) Then I turned down a lift in order to walk back from Diggle to Delph. Charlotte was fairly worried I'd get got by The People Who Hide In The Bushes, but luckily I was fine. And I even made up a poem on the way.

A walk home

Crunch, crunch, crunch,
The snow
Goes
While my silhouette
Shrinks and grows
In front of me.

Occasional cars
Dash people indoors
But I
Would rather be out here
With the harsh air,
The view
Across the valley,
And those two
Horses I saw earlier today,
Still standing
In almost the same place.

I'll be ok
There's no one hiding in the bushes.

23/12/10.

THINGS

I played Things last night with Liz, Cat, Rob and Louise. Kier did his usual lurking-in-the-background thing, popping out to 'socialise' just as I emerged from the bathroom.
Kier: Did you do a poo?
Me: No
Kier: Yes you did, I can smell it.
Me: (Splutter) Liiiiiiz, Kier's making me feel uncomfortable. Again.

ANYWAY. Things I've lost: My favourite gloves.

The Lost Gloves

I had these amazing gloves
And I lost them.

Actually, someone took them
From the ladies
In the Old George
(Borough High Street)
When I,
Naively,
Took them off
To have a wee.

They were greeny-
Turquoise, stripey,
Long and fleecy.

They were a present
From my mum

And I mourned
Them by moaning
At length
To anyone who'd listen

And rejecting all other handwear
As not long
Or warm
Or turquoise enough.

In fact, I think I know where
I could get another pair,
Pretty much the same.

But instead
I think I'll leave them
As an abstract,
Unattainable ideal
-THE LOST GLOVES-
To which no subsequent pair
Will ever
Match up.

2/12/10.

Thanks for the risotto Liz! (It had peas in.) And Kier, I honestly didn't.

Cushions: Mum's response to my response

I just read the cushions poems to mum, and before I knew it, she was off making up her own poem, without even realising.

Cushions: Mum's response

Some of my cushions
Are decorative,
Like on my bed.

And I've always got one
On my rocking chair.
I think it's because
It would look lonely
Without one.

Some of my cushions
Are silky and slippy,
Which can be quite
Annoying.

But I wouldn't be without them.

They're just always there,
Aren't they?
I can't sit without one,
Have you noticed,
I've always got one?
Not on my tummy,
But here,
By my side.

20/12/10.
By the way, what mum actually said is, 'Some of my poems are decorative.' I assumed she meant cushions, but it's quite nice to think she was talking about poems the whole way through.

Cushions: a response

This is a response to Phil's cushions poem. Because we are SO hip and happening that we spend our time discussing our experiences of cushions and then writing them down.

Cushions

Even though you are lumpy,
Old and ugly,
I still hug you.

You are not really mine
But I've grown
Used to you,

Can't quite settle down
Without you
Tucked up on my knees,
Hugging my tummy.

You don't care
If I'm tired,
Grumpy,
Feeling dumpy
Or low
When I slump
On the sofa.

You just absorb
Some of my warmth
And give a little bit back.

20/12/10.
And yes, yes I have spent the whole day indoors, on my own.

My new hero

Travelled up to Manchester from London yesterday. Took a bit longer than expected, but I discovered (and fell a bit in love with) JANE.

Jane

'Good morning,
This is Jane,'
Her voice came,
Warm, reassuring,
Mancunian,
Through the tanoy.

'I'm your train
Manager today
And I'd just like to say
I'm very sorry for the delayed
Departure of this service.'

Which was caused,
She explained,
By iced-up
Tracks at Clapham.

'Tickets please!
Though I do feel skanky
Asking for these
When we're running so late.'

We'd not long got going
When frozen points
Caused further congestion
At Wapping Junction.

Jane tried her best
To outline the situation,
Her voice full of empathy
For her passengers' frustration.

She sympathised,
In Northern tones,
With those
Who'd mistaken
The train's destination,
Providing information
On the best routes
To Glasgow Central.

And she condoled with passengers
Who should by now have been on cruises,
If only BA had bought enough de-icer
For their flights.

'I do hope you'll all end up
Happy this Christmas,
And I can only apologise.
This weather really does
Mess up
The train lines.'

We slowly
Approached Rugeley,
Where engineering works
Had overrun,
Then took a diversion
Past Northhampton
To avoid icicles in
The Shugborough Tunnel.
('I promise,
Jane said,
'This can't get any worse.')

She was right.
And at last
We passed
Stoke-on-Trent,
Macclesfield,
Stockport,

The last of which Jane announced
A few minutes in advance,
Keeping us updated
(As ever)
On her status:
'There are two passengers here
Who are rather drunk,
And they do want Stockport,
So I've just got
To go and rouse them.'

Thanks Jane.
You were amazing.

20/12/10.

One good thing about the tube...

Escalator kissing

She seemed
(Almost)
Perfect.

She was pretty,
Witty,
Sweet,
She got him
And

She fitted easily
Into his life.
(Their respective heights
Were just right
For kissing on escalators.)

But then
He realised
She was one of those people
Who borrow things
And never give them back.*

5/12/10

*This is a joke. I do give things back.