A short and sweet poem I wrote about the morning after the night before. And lying in - I could use a lie in right now. Where's that bank holiday gone again? Don't forget to like, share and comment! 

you’re a snuggler
a tangler
a logistical link of limbs
that end up intertwining with mine
 
you kick me over some of the duvet
in the gentlest of gestures
and fester in the filth of your little sister’s linen
as the full moon sheds shame on our backsides.
 
but as the sun scowls through the window
that frames the four post
you wrap yourself in the sheets
like a sushi roll of biscuited bitterness
 
you natter to the bedbugs
the only ones who’ll listen to your curses
whilst me?
I’m basking in the warmth of a Sunday scandal.

P.S. Did you know that I have a Facebook page now? Why not swing by and give it a like? You'll get the latest on Words Badly Woven and exclusive vlog updates every Sunday. 

Whey – I told you all I’d be back with part two. In the second part of this three blog series, I’ll be going through 20 poems that you should definitely know of and maybe, try learning by heart. If you haven’t read part 1, WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE and give it a read before you look further. If you have, then let’s continue...

Jabberwocky – Lewis Carroll
Let’s start with a childhood classic. My first memories of this one was acting  it out as a project in my drama club. I had the crucial part of a Jubjub bird. It mainly involved me walking around in a bird mask going “jub jub”. I am a man of many talents – what could’ve been? 

​Teach this one to children – its sheer wackiness will make them spellbound. 

Sonnet 18 – William Shakespeare
Now time for a romantic classic – one to woo the blushing maids in the village. The poem compares his beloved to the season of summer, and how she far excels it in every way. If Shakespeare is referring to a British summer, then this is not that flattering a poem. An American summer however...

I hear America singing – Walt Whitman
‘I hear America singing’ is a great poem about being unique, but also about being united. It’s a love song to America and by god, it brims with patriotic optimism. It’s almost as American as Uncle Sam riding a bald eagle, whilst choruses of cowboys bang out ‘Amazing Grace’ surrounded by cheeseburgers. The American Dream ladies and gentlemen.

Let me die a youngman’s death – Roger McGough
Despite how sadistic this poem appears, you do find yourself enjoying it because of its light tone and gnarly, unique grit. It urges you to grow old distastefully and live la vida loca. Not in a cheesy Ricky Martin sort of way though... 

Remember – Christina Rosetti
Crumbs - I should really stop with the poems about death, especially with a summer bank holiday coming up. I’m such a killjoy...

But his one clutches the heartstrings too – it’s about wanting to live on within someone’s memory after death. It’s almost as sad as...

Funeral Blues – W H Auden
Okay last sad one I promise! Like many of you I’m sure, I first heard it in the classic film 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'.  If you haven’t seen it, watch it and feel. And I cannot end this blog on a sad note, therefore...

On the Ning Nang Nong – Spike Milligan
This nugget is stupidly stupendous. You could probably say any sort of nonsense and you would have probably recited ‘On the Ning Nag Nong’ without realising it. Apparently it is also one of the most taught poems to primary school children in the UK. And so it should be. Kids love silly stuff like that. 

Right, hopefully we are all in happy place after all the doom in the second half. But tell me, have I missed anything out that should be on this top 20 list? Let me know in the comments section or on Facebook and Twitter. Don’t forget to follow me if you do pop in on either of those. But for now, have a great bank holiday and go large people!
​

This has to be the poem that I am currently the most proud of and my favourite. One for the heart-on-your-sleeve romantics. As always, please do like, share and comment!

​Some thunder and furore
Is what I need
To kindle me out of’
This Sunday sleep.
So come - this gaslight moon can’t
Stir more currents in my blood.
And you’re my purest fruit, so
Come now! And perhaps you could:
 
Bring cake,
Or something else sweet,
Bring all your handpicked
Hand-nicked treats.
Bring a feast for kings
And your finest china.
Bring burger and chips
From the dirtiest diner.
 
Bring pyjamas,
Bring yourself bare,
Or bring yourself something
Sexy to wear.
Bring your casual Fridays
Bring your ballroom dress.
My dear, just bring whatever
Suits you best!
 
For time’s ticking a tango
Where seconds dance fast.
Come, waltz down my way
Before rhythm runs scarce.
Let’s epilogue this evening
With romantic crescendo
But before our feet step out of beat
Be sure that you bestow:
 
Some light-footed jazz,
Metal heavy as lead.
Bring any old melody
Stuck in your head.
Bring your mum’s old vinyls
Or what’s number one.
Bring songs we could shout
From the top of our lungs!
 
Bring your hammer-like hail
Bring your fiercest storms. 
Bring Saharan sunshine
That conquers all.
Bring moonshine and stars
Set this evening alight.
But most importantly
Bring your love tonight.

Feeling happy and slightly gooey after reading that? Let me know in the comments below and don't forget to share and like it on Facebook and Twitter. 

All the gear, but no idea.

A phrase that I find rings very true. Particularly as a writer – you don’t need a MacBook Air or a library room in your house to be half decent at it. You mostly need a sense of imagination and an ounce of dedication. But a headful of dreams can only get you anywhere.

So, here are five essentials that might help get you started:

A word processor accompanied with a solid hard drive
I admit the first of these is pretty obvious. But the second one is a no-joke essential. ALWAYS have a back up of your next masterpiece. You’ve seen what happens if you don’t in that Love Actually pond scene...

No, no – you won’t get sexy Europeans clambering to get it back for you! It will just be a soggy, illegible papery mess. Nobody wants that.
 
Your favourite book 
Always handy to have if you’re low on inspiration. You might read something in here to reignite that spark and remember why you wanted to write in the first place. Possibly a ‘eureka’ moment! Just avoid that dangerous path of plagiarism though... 

​A notebook and a trusty pen on the go – There’s only so many places your laptop can go with you. I mean you could take it to the beach...oh wait....

A pocket-sized one would be ideal just to take down ideas, notes or even that golden line for your next piece of imaginative awesomeness.
 
Thesaurus – Let’s be honest – there’s only so many words you know for “just” or “too” or “limited”. If your brain can hold that many words then well done – now sign up for Countdown. Whether it’s a hard copy or an online one, it’s always handy to have a word to describe these people that can store so many words in the brain. Like “smart-arse”. 

Snacks – Oh, because we all love some fuel to keep us going. I’m a sucker for black coffee and whatever is festering in the fridge myself. But anything will do just to keep you ticking over. Before the hanger kicks in.  Hard. 

Time for another poem. I originally wrote this as a song during my time at music college, having been inspired by the song 'Samson' by Regina Spektor*. But I liked the lyrics too much I had to convert it into a poem. So a poem about the downfall of a woman who (to nick words off Wordsworth) was as "strong as guilty fear". As always, do feel free to share and let me know your thoughts.

Boadicea came into my quarters from the cold
Took off her battle robes and her brooch of soiled gold,
Rinsed off the crimson stains from the blade of her knife
Then flung herself into my arms as she cried all through the night. 
 
Her teardrops couldn't kill the fire in her eyes.
Each drip crawled down her skin, so blemished and so dry. 
She scratched at every wound and buried battle scar
Until we were silent, staring up unto the stars. 
But as I wet my lips to blow out the flame
She sealed my mouth and whispered my name.
 
She went on to tell me how the empire will fall,
How the togas will soon crumble within her kingdom walls. 
How every man will no longer call the heavens their home 
And stop begging for their names to be engraved in stone. 
She said, "Come, be my magic and the power in my hands - 
Tell me there's life left in this promised land!" 
And just as the moon went out of our sight,
She fell onto the floor and howled with all her might:
"To all the Gods of what's good and right
Don't you dare turn out my lights!" 
 
But some sunsets later she stumbled back in
Looking ragged, holding unknown medicines. 
She'd lost her strength, seen her comrades die
But my arms and magic were sharply denied:
 "I won't live to watch my men suffer as they bleed
A short and sweet release is my final plead - 
So let me free now.”
 
And she turned out her lights
As we cried.
 

* If you haven't heard this song, do give it a listen - it is rather good.