Sunday, 21 May 2017


Oh google, how you flirt with me!
Two poems found in search of me!
My blog, my profile pic, my tweets,
my Linkedin profile! This is sweet!

But I’m signed in with google plus -
it seems I needn’t feel so smug -
some writing in the right hand box
says ‘from google contacts’. What’s
more 'only you' see this result.
Not quite as famous as I thought!

Tuesday, 16 May 2017

Polling Station Rock

Let’s all rock to the polling station,
hop and bop and bump as a nation
back to the seventies. Let’s all wear
cheesecloth shirts and perm our hair,
dig out crombies, Ben Sherman shirts,
leather biker jackets and mini-skirts.

Let’s sleep on the beaches at weekends,
and walk down the road to call for our friends,
have school milk and uni grants for free,
buttered bread with fruit for Sunday tea,
get up to change the telly channel
and wash our faces with a flannel
in a freezing bathroom without a shower.
See hedgerows bursting with wild flowers.

Let’s listen to air waves fading at night
from Radio Luxembourg and Caroline,
dance in the youth club, hang around town,
pockets full of pennies and half crowns,
watch Monty Python and bunk off school;
the ‘Who’ generation that broke all the rules.
There was something in the air, an albatross
flying high with butterflies born at Woodstock.

So let’s get together and rock to the polls
and save the garden and save our souls,
get rid of the Tories and privatisation
and daddy-dance to the polling station!

© Jude Parsons 2017

Thursday, 2 March 2017

‘wot u upto?'

Jo is hiding underneath a blanket
trying to appease a nasty migraine;
Lisa’s eating cheesy toast and Jenny
is undercover checking out insurance;

Liz is heading homewards after working;
Alison and Jan are still there slogging;
Graeme’s decorating in the hallway;
Judy sings out she’s just home from choir;

Diane’s just retrieved the photo work of
seven years from her external hard drive;
Sarah adds a photograph to prove that
she really has been spring cleaning the tortoise.
Alison proposes Sarah wins the
Facebook ‘wot u upto?’ thread.
It's carried.

Monday, 19 December 2016

The Office Diva

She’s the diva in the corner.
First of all you have to warm her
up before you place your media
into the appropriate feeder.
She clicks and clunks and hums and whirrs
and pouts and tutts and flutters her
eyelashes and repairs her makeup
before she even deigns to take up
the offering that you have placed
into the designated space.
There follows a robotic dance
as levers rotate and advance
and trays dip up and down until
the whole assembly stands quite still.

You wait there with your hand stretched out.

The paper suddenly shoots out
then flicks back in just as you reach
to take It. As you curse the thief   
it extricates a perfect copy
and smugly drops it in the hopper.

Saturday, 26 November 2016

A Christmas song

(in memory of Victoria Wood, sadly missed)

Chocolate orange; crystallised
ginger; christmas cake; mince pies…
Tie me to the trolley!
Hit me with your brolly!
Make me eat some natural
yogurt  with fresh strawberries!

Stollen stealing my resolve -
scooting past the alcohol -
Hit me with a loaded platter!
Thump me if I go near batter!
I’m trying to ignore temptation...
Serve me up a boiled crustacean!

Ice cream, cheesecake, apple strudel -
Now I'm losing all my scruples…
Get me through the checkout quick!
Steer me past the pick and mix!
That lemon muffin looks divine…
Let me out! I’ll shop online!


Oh google, how you flirt with me! Two poems found in search of me! My blog, my profile pic, my tweets, my Linkedin profile! This...