
A collection of over 50 poems I wrote between 2009 and 2019 including several unpublished poems. Access the book at https://www.amazon.com/Blend-collection-2009-2019-Neil-Dufty-ebook/dp/B08R7Y1ND3/ref=sr_1_2
A collection of over 50 poems I wrote between 2009 and 2019 including several unpublished poems. Access the book at https://www.amazon.com/Blend-collection-2009-2019-Neil-Dufty-ebook/dp/B08R7Y1ND3/ref=sr_1_2
When I turn Sixty – I’ll hike the Kokoda Trail (No way my body will fail), I’ll bound up the highest mountain, Frolic naked in a city fountain. And when I turn Sixty - I’ll photograph like a kid, No lines, wrinkles, nothing hid, My skin pristine, cheeks a flush, OK they might use the odd air brush. And when I turn Sixty - There’ll be no stopping me, Watch me climb the tallest tree, Hey, I will be the living proof Of the meaning of Eternal Youth. And when I turn Sixty - I’ll prove that being Sixty Is the new Fifty, Forty, Thirty, On the wrong side of middle age? No, Sixty’s got to be all the rage. But now that I’ve turned Sixty - I’ve started to feel a bit ditsy, Memories start to make me misty, And the old back is playing up, May be no longer the young pup. And now that I’ve turned Sixty - I think I’ll take Sixty lying down, Curl on the couch like a sleepy hound, Snooze, then pop open a can of VB, And watch adrenaline sports on TV,
What is the point of a pigeon?
Have you ever pondered this thought?
I’ve scanned the books, all religions,
And believe this bird to be a rort.
There you waddle, pecking at refuse;
Fat head bobbles, you coo and scratch;
And you can home (that’s no excuse);
Those other birds you cannot match.
But God must’ve something in His mind:
A niche, a role for you my friend;
In pity I wink, reason sure to find;
Stop this poem reaching a sad end.
But now white goo splatters my eye;
Then a wink from pigeon up on high!
RED, RED NOSE
O my Love’s like my red, red nose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Love’s like an allergy,
That helps us snore in tune.
Now you’re so cool, my bony lass,
But so deep in snot am I;
And I will love you still, my dear,
Till all my sinuses go dry.
Till all my sinuses go dry, my dear,
And we can have some fun;
But I will love you still, my dear,
When again my nose does run.
So see you soon my only Love,
And see you, for a while!
And I will come again, my Love,
With one big snotty smile!
(Author’s note: Apologies to Robert Burns for the take on his poem ‘Red, Red Rose’)
AT A BARNES AND NOBLE
I met her at a Barnes and Noble
She was young, I was much older
Coo-coo-ca-choo, she behind a folder
Our eyes then met, and I told her
I’m looking for a book
At a Barnes and Noble
We made love in a Barnes and Noble
It happened in the non-fiction section
Between Religion or History on reflection
No one noticed, no detection
Only the books saw the action
At a Barnes and Noble
We were married at a Barnes and Noble
It was literally a fine celebration
Filled with friends and the odd relation
Books and us – the ultimate creation
Books hailed our matrimony
At a Barnes and Noble
Our children live in a Barnes and Noble
Reading books is our only pastime
Other kids play Xbox, games of that kind
But this line I’m struggling to rhyme
I will get the answer
At a Barnes and Noble
This poem is brought to you
By Barnes and Noble
‘Book a Life’
At a Barnes and Noble.
When the darkness is so overwhelming,
Look to the stars above for some hope,
The glow in the eyes of a child playing,
Helping the mind restore and to cope.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel,
A hope to help lift us from despair,
A hole for water to escape a funnel,
Letting us out when the world’s unfair.
You will enter a place of still solitude,
Peace and quiet, solace from all the din,
To get there you’ll need to show fortitude,
As this nirvana you will find is within.
You caught my eye as
I ran on by
I doubled back to
take a look
And in the shop you
peered at me
Statuesque, perfect
in every way
Like Bo Derek in 10
a vision splendid
Such style, such elegance
a Sophia Loren
The curves, the contours
Angelina Jolie
But then I noticed you
did not move
We came from near and from far,
To the hall at the end of the tar,
To dance to Frank and his band,
Far from war in another land.
We waltzed long into the night,
Till night gave way to first light,
Two tops in a twirl and a spin,
We danced with aplomb and a grin.
We joined as one in barn dance,
Chance to romance and to prance,
We thought our life was just made,
No chance of the bombs from a raid.
We slipped to the back of the hall,
None saw our stealth and our gall,
Not to think of whether we should,
We carved our love into the wood.
the floor has sprung
boarded windows clatter
in wind like a percussion solo
rats scuttle to their pit
battered paint peels
uncovering
‘Albie loves Essie’
a developer eyes the structure
‘Yeah, it’s a knockdown mate’.