Thursday, April 09, 2009

Poets don't jog

Poets don't jog
You don't hear their footsteps coming from out of the morning fog
Not for them the red-faced gasping staggering slog

Poets don't jog
They'll still be in bed at midday sleeping like a log
Or face down on the sofa among the empties snoring like a hog

Poets don't jog
They're blearily looking through the kitchen for breakfast stuff to make their arteries clog
Or holding wine bottles up to the light in search of dregs so they can have the hair of the dog

Poets don't jog

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

End of the pier show

Wigan owes George Orwell no thanks:
He made the dismal pier a by-word
For squalor and industrial decay

But in the exuberant 1980s,
As the town faced its post-industrial future,
Heritage seemed a tangible asset

The 'Wigan Pier Experience' was born
From canals, bridges and warehouses;
The tourists failed to appear
The experience unwanted:

The heritage centre's now closed down.