As it's National Poetry Day, here's an early example of my ouevre, recently uncovered from the family archives. Originally penned on 19th September 1983, it is a wry look, using artistic licence, at the experiences, objects, and relationships of a pre-pubescent boy trying to express gratitude and find joy in a sometimes confusing world. π π ππ²ππ π§π΅πΆπ»π΄π When term ends, Playing with my friends, Playing with my brother, Running to take cover, Trying on new vests, And spelling tests, Riding my bike, And playing with Mike, Holidays in the golden sand, Listening to the Boys Brigade Band, Coming home from school, And then swimming in our pool. Craig Pullen Aged 8.
Crisp talk, sweet reviews, car, train, transport & tech chat, pics of food/street vomit/wolf fleeces/windsocks/three-quarter length trousers, plus hackneyed jokes, lazy musings, ill-informed opinions, biting satire, music, events, comedy & cinema, with tales of high jinks, scraperism & japerism, travel pics, drivel, twaddle, Popmaster, & comment from a middle aged man living in South Birmz, who frankly should know better, and is trying to make sense of the world. Would recommend.