Back on track with the 30/30 poem a day: Irony

Aunty Irony lives in Hollymount House 
on the street that winds up past the cemetery.

A hint of something clings to her 
it could be lavender 
it could be piss. 
We visit because life takes us that way
up the hill
occasionally glancing at the cemetery. 
Well, not visit, but pass by
and she’s in the garden 
so we stop and lean on the wall
tell her our news.
She keeps us in check.
Don’t get too cocky, she warns with a wink.
Sometimes if I remember
I’ll take a detour
to avoid comment.
But you can’t take the long way round every time. 

30/30 a poem a day in April although I have missed a day or two – How to Depress a Rat

How to Depress a Rat.

Method 1

Take a rat, a lab rat

drop it in a tank of water

let it swim around

eventually it will find the small island you have placed as a form of sanctuary.

Remove the island

so the rat has to swim around some more.

Replace the island.

When the rat finds the island

remove the island.

Let the rat swim around some more.

Replace the island.

Remove the island.

Repeat until you replace the island and the rat doesn’t bother climbing onto it anymore.

Your lab rat is now depressed.

Method 2

Develop a robotic rat

Give it a name, like WR-3

Programme the WR-3 to bully the lab rat.

Utilise the WR-3 to constantly harass the lab rat by following it but not actually touching it.

Utilise the WR-3 to attack the lab rat intermittently every time it moves.

Assess the effects on young rats and mature rats.

Conclude that deepest depression can be triggered by intermittent attacks on a mature rat that has been constantly harassed in its youth.

30/30 April 9th – does the sunshine make it all better?

Startled by the summer in April

we fling open windows and cast off clothing

cross the street to the sunny side.

Weeds are pulled, lawn mowers uncovered

table tops surface from beneath unopened mail.

Legs emerge from a long hibernation

arms swing naked, chests bounce in vests.

Beer and burnt burgers mask that unpleasant taste

flower filled planters that bad smell

and fairy lights string us along.

This year everything will turn out bright.

30/30 an interactive piece for April 8th for Walter L Scott

I am too angry to write a poem

too angry about the shooting of

Walter L Scott in North Charleston South Carolina.

Shot in the back while running away

although that’s not what the police report said.

Handcuffed and left to die face down on the ground

although that’s not what the police report said.

No attempt made to resuscitate or deliver first aid

although that’s not what the police report said.


Now think of an emotion and insert that, then think of the name of someone you love (your best friend, brother, sister, partner) insert that in Walter’s place and insert the name of where you live in place of North Charleston South Carolina.


I am too INSERT EMOTION HERE to write a poem

too INSERT EMOTION about the shooting of



Shot in the back while running away

although that’s not what the police report said.

Handcuffed and left to die face down on the ground

although that’s not what the police report said.

No attempt to resuscitate or deliver first aid

although that’s not what the police report said.

30/30 for April 7th 

He is an unsuitable pair of shoes

the kind you long to wear
despite, no because of 
their shape, their style.
It isn’t painful at the time
you can stride confident,
scarcely noticing a pinch across the toes
slight burning around the heel
or on the ball of the foot.
But after 
you are red raw and blistered 
and even the softest pair of pumps 
cause hurt 
until the skin has had time to recover.

30/30 for April 6th – Systems

We talked about systems and single cell structures

how they are alone and yet co-exist

communicate with each other when in need

merge and join to create new living conditions

like a family I thought

or like the components of the Iron Giant when he is blown apart

a distant red light flashing

calling for all the pieces to gather

and make him whole again.

30/30 for April 5th a day late 

It was me who started the egg hunt.

It is my tradition.
She thinks it is hers,
that she started it for her children.
I know I started it for them 
and she carried on each year
until I had children too.
And now they’re almost too old for it
but we do it just the same 
because it’s a tradition after all.
We fall silent not wanting to argue
because it doesn’t matter who started it.
But it was me who started the egg hunt,
I’m sure. 

A haiku for April 4th 

Good decision

Morning brings sickness 
The time is not right for me 
I choose to keep you 

April 3rd – Desperate Atrophy 

I slowed down, 
in immediate response to blue lights
flourescent sign glistening in the rain.
A car flipped on its roof 
panels scraped to silver steel 
(I think it might have been red before) 
as if parked 
but just the wrong way up.
Hi-vis jackets on dark uniforms 
swept debris from Tarmac
steady movements 
methodically cleansing the site 
of shards of glass and shattered plastic, maybe worse.
I thought about speed and rain
I thought about the dog I saw run over 
just a week ago
I thought how we are all dying
one way or another
but I’d rather not like this
and that perhaps 
I should cut them some slack 
those hi-vis wearers, 
I mean there they were clearing up the mess
that someone else had made. 

April 2nd – strange looks 

She said she would never be conventionally attractive.

Not upset, just stating a fact. 
That stuck in my mind. 
Tall boys with big ears get scouted by agents
and ginger girls become Titian women 
the funny looking kids push harder than most 
and we all get where we’re going.