Saturday Live Poems

A Triolet for John Prescott

Raise your banners for Baron Prezza
from shop floor steward to upper bench.
Tell your mother, tell your bezza
to doth their caps for Baron Prezza:
velvet robes meets pickled eggs there
I say the man’s an uber mench!
Bend your knee to Baron Prezza
from shop floor steward to upper bench.

A Sonnet for Radio

I think of you as telly’s older sister,
the old maid of the air waves, staunch and true.
Your stroppy sibling takes a better picture
but thinking men would rather drink with you.
For you can help them drown their midnight sorrow
with arguments or strange progressive noise
and won’t think any less of them tomorrow
when switching to your sober breezy voice.
They love you for your thousand strong impressions
and for your interest in everything
for how you mix tradition with progression
and how you raise their spirits when you sing.

But most of all they count you as their friend
’cause you reflect the good they have in them.