Poetry Series
Steve Chering
- poems -
2
Steve Chering
Author, , writes........ Like the wind! !
'Yes as fast as that!
Works:
'Look at it this way'
'Acorns Fall'
'For the love of limerick'
'Mind your language'
'Moments'
3
‘Modern artists’
Modern art is splashed and thrown
And galleries host the fools
With splodges grime and a colourful time
Adorn the spacious halls
Admirers stand opinionated
Saying what it is
It’s a flower no a vase no famous face
No wait it’s a paint bomb fizz
The artists stand there proudly
And looking for some praise
But all in truth it’s really a con
For the dollars they need to raise
Hands on chin while punters line in
Explaining to the puzzled crowd
They give their summed up summary
They’re stuffy and always too loud
They fake impressions of the talented
No members join their club
Prestigious and affiliated
With an application snub
The painted illustrations
A hoard of coloured splashes
Stapled together on cheepy' hardboard
Hidden by the curtain sashes
But ask just one to paint a meadow
Or a charcoaled London bridge
And the most you’ll get is a turned up nose
And a look that would thaw my fridge
So if you’d be a modern artist
Pretending to be cultured
Don’t even bother art school with it
My son paints better with custard!
Steve Chering
4
All my tomorrows
The best friends you ever saw
The best weather after thaw
The best places yet to see
The best experience waits to be
The worst moments left you dry
The worst thoughts pass you by
The worst tales you had to tell
The worst is gone so mark me well
Tomorrows here get out be quick
Tomorrows near with happy stick
Tomorrows packed its bags and gone
Tomorrows today unless.. I’m wrong.
Steve Chering
5
Sunday morning punch-out
Punch that neighbour
Punch him crunch him
Grab him by the fence
He’s the one that woke you up
And made your neck all tense
Grab that neighbour
Roll your sleeves up
Squash his stupid hat
Whack him smack him bump him stack him
Down on a punch up mat
Don’t be nice now punch him twice
You’ve been too kind for years
Poke his eye out kick him skyward
Now his turn for tears
Thump that neighbour
Give him a message
One you’ll re-deliver
If he tries his tricks again
You’ll tear out his pink liver
Now its quietly back to bed
Surprised at how things end?
Aren’t you glad you sorted it?
Police coming around the bend!
Slippers off and into bed
To Sunday slumber on
But knock-knock-knock
And a busted lock
As riot police thump along
So its punch one two
Police and you are rolling down the stairs
Misunderstanding punch on the landing
Policemen’s boots in pairs
Off to the nick
For identity pick
As charges fill the sheet
And now you wish you’d stayed in bed
As reporters wait to greet
So in the cell with a bucket and a bell
Cold tea stale pork pie
Too bad that you lost your temper
‘silly old bear ‘oh my.
Steve Chering
6
The faces of the readers'
I'd like to see the faces of the readers
As they canter down my page
I want to study the eyes that see
My poems coming of age
I’d see the frown of the readers
That pull contorted squints
Maybe while they turn my pages
Sucking on book sweet mints
I’d want to ask the readers
To read my poems aloud
In a softened chocolate mellow way
If only it were allowed
I’d love to ask the readers
Shall I go on creating?
Poems and rhymes some sad at times
Or happier if they’re waiting.
I’d like these things from the readers
But this happens not a lot
Until that day I’ll write this way
Reviewing my grammar pot.
I’d make tea for my readers
And bake them cherry cake
Them wrap with glee my book for free
And sign for them, to take.
Alas no luck from the readers
And here I sit still writing
There’s no end line no catch this time
Just me..On my lip.. Still biting.
Steve Chering
7
'To presume to presume'
Do you presume?
To presume they know what’s best for us is presumptuous
There will always be those who try to tell you that you’re in error.
Those who presume to step on your toes barging their doctrines onto your sketchpad
Those who will push their ideals their ideas and their proclamations at you
Those who will shout your ears off pushing their pen into your inkwell.
Those who whisper it louder still louder but they never stop even whispering it.
Those who simply cant-wont see it your way because their way is best and final.
Those who spend most of the time reading 'false testament' becoming trapped in its
plastic messages, then embark on an ongoing mission to change the world.
Those who have become: 'brain-washed' no longer retaining the ability to be individual
thinkers.
Those who will constantly attempt to correct you instead of gently saying, “Let’s look at
it another way”
My message is simple.
It’s a matter of free choice.
'Get the hell off my roof! ! !
Steve Chering
8
Very changeable
She’s hot again she’s cold again
The windows open wider
Then closed again at half past three
There’s a chemical change inside her
She rolls around and kicks her feet
The covers make her sweat
And there’s poor me still fumbling
For the cover I need to get
I’m hot she’s cold she’s warm I’m freezing
Never feeling the same
I’m balancing on the edge of the bed
Playing her changeable game
Its womanly its hormones see
Her change of life is here
She wrestles mostly through the night
I find it all rather queer
Her mood swings and her changes
Are testing me as well
I wonder if I’ll catch it too
Contagious who can tell?
She shudders and she quivers
She moans some nights till dawn
And even though its four am
I’d be better off sleeping on the lawn
She often says “its alright for you”
You’re Lucky you’re a man
You can’t know what I go through
And where’s that bloody fan?
But my reply is simple
And this always makes her frown
If I didn’t care I’d bugger off now
And I wouldn’t be writing it down?
Ha ha’
Steve Chering
9
'What Elephants do'
Thump bang
Clonk bump
Thud boom
Mind my lump
Heavy trunk
Pointy tusk
Stamp their feet
Where they must
River splashing
Muddy slapping
Cardboard ears
Flipping flapping
Up the hill
Over the top
Down we skid
Just can’t stop
Belly dancing
Beady eyes
Arthritis
No surprise.
Smelly odour
Mighty musk
Angry calls
At least till dusk
Elephants marching
Two by two
Out of the way
They’ll flatten you.
Steve Chering
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