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Pooka Delaval: Lizard Poetry Society
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2010/08/lizard-poetry-society.html
Down by the grapevine. Friday, 6 August 2010. Today is the day that Pookas metamorphosed (back) into Lizards. Come one, come all. Here's a blurb for your delectation:. The Lizard Poetry Society is a new Newcastle-based poetry collective. These are indeed early days for us, and our initial goal is to involve as many people as possible in an exchange of thoughts and ideas about poetry (our own writing and poetry in general), and about poetry in Newcastle, a city with a proud heritage in that field. Top [ur...
pookadelaval.blogspot.com
Pooka Delaval: a meeting
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2009/02/meeting.html
Down by the grapevine. Monday, 16 February 2009. A stranger was approaching from the left side room - though everyone else seemed to not notice him in a very deliberative manner. He was graceful without care, with instead a grace of purpose. He exchanged a polite 'good evening' with P in a drawl. He stood affront of them carefully leaning on an unplugged fruit machine with his legs crossed and his arse on the ledge above the cash chute. 8220;What, is that, in y o u r hand? 8220;Why do you have it? 8220;H...
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Pooka Delaval: A Kafka-esque Treatise On Jam
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2009/01/kafka-esque-treatise-on-jam.html
Down by the grapevine. Tuesday, 13 January 2009. A Kafka-esque Treatise On Jam. This is a very high-brow work of European Literature of international import.). A strange little boy here; his name was Sam,. Sam woke one morning to find his hands made of Jam. So he licked a finger, a thumb, and was deeply disturbed. At his ten chubby digits made of gooseberry preserve. His parents and grandparents and sister despaired,. Sam was a bad boy, he stole - stood on chairs -. He could get his sticky hands on,.
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Pooka Delaval: Micropsia
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2009/01/micropsia.html
Down by the grapevine. Monday, 26 January 2009. It was violetblack like blackjack so. He popped the beetle into his mouth,. It melted in his mouth to an acrid fluid. Which burnt his tongue and he spat. He mauled at the inside of his lips with. His tongue but no saliva would come. And he pumped his throat for sputum,. But a cold weld had set across his tonsils. He stepped and looked and stepped,. And into the garden he fell, onto the path. Caught upon his hands and his elbows and. Of ever increasing snails.
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Pooka Delaval: Dusty Old Annabel Lee Is Me
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2009/03/dusty-old-annabel-lee-is-me.html
Down by the grapevine. Thursday, 5 March 2009. Dusty Old Annabel Lee Is Me. I wish that I were Annabel Lee,. While I'm busily wishing that you were me -. I could be gone and without a sound. While you wait to be with dusty old me in the ground. Might look into expanding this at some stage, but I currently feel neither the need nor the inclination. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). See Pookafield below) is the pictorial side of things. Good stuff. Dusty Old Annabel Lee Is Me. Bic Biros and Moldova.
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Pooka Delaval: Lemons
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2008/11/lemons.html
Down by the grapevine. Friday, 21 November 2008. I never eat them,. I just skit them across pavements. With the side of my feet. I've got salt in the crook of my thumb. To lick and twist lips at and spute. My thumb it has flour paste under the nail. Like grout, I pick it out with my teeth. And spute it after the lemons. I wear my heart-hat. Like any of my other hats,. People are polite, "is that new? Themed radio takes too long to search and focus,. My legs begin to ache with flu. I bite the pithed lemon.
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Pooka Delaval: they've to got it got through before he returns
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2009/05/theyve-to-got-it-got-through-before-he.html
Down by the grapevine. Monday, 4 May 2009. They've to got it got through before he returns. They seem practiced, they mirror each other’s movements closely, comfortable, managed, measured. The father (we think) and the son (we think) are never alone together and now they are all gone, jackets and mobile phones (or umbrellas) in hand and we will never know. There were other people in the café but I have not mentioned them. And we're all just waiting for a reaction from on high. Tags: a young gentleman.
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Pooka Delaval: May 2009
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2009_05_01_archive.html
Down by the grapevine. Sunday, 24 May 2009. Late Night in the Hotel, Weekend One. Late Night in the Hotel, unedited. 8220;Why do you think he was like that? 8220;Holden pal, why was he like that? I, I don’t know. Her friend wants to distract me with catcher in the rye. I’ve found her in the nude. I knocked on the door,. Unless these unauthorised people leave the building I am going to have to ask you to vacate the room. 8220;Will you give me half an hour? I’ll give you five minutes. I wait five minutes.
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Pooka Delaval: Long Haired Cat
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2008/12/long-haired-cat.html
Down by the grapevine. Wednesday, 3 December 2008. The man had lived his life carelessly, and was grateful for all the things he had lost. He gave away or missed, he never disposed of. The cat was asleep, but a train was approaching. He shifted his weight with his hips and crossed his legs, the cat stirred. He raised himself in the seat and the cat slid to his knees and stepped onto the ground. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). See Pookafield below) is the pictorial side of things. Good stuff.
pookadelaval.blogspot.com
Pooka Delaval: Limes
http://pookadelaval.blogspot.com/2008/11/limes.html
Down by the grapevine. Monday, 17 November 2008. I've been on the other side of nihilism,. Found there was nothing there,. But I was in the middle of the earthquake, sweetie,. When I seen it on the telly;. Open-hearted's really nothing,. No more than asteroids or a sun,. Outside of the mind;. God could be a Cup a Soup,. Nutritionally they're similar,. My fingers, though they're merely there,. Unzip your jeans quite freely;. I chop my limes up sweetly,. I've got sugar on my blade,. Bic Biros and Moldova.
