Gavin's profileGavin LockeyPhotosBlogListsMore Tools Help

Gavin Lockey

Poetry and Presentations

Gavin Lockey

Occupation
Location
Interests
I enjoy writing poetry and would love the chance to perform this. I am an experienced public speaker and give talks to community groups in the Plymouth area.
No list items have been added yet.
Some of my favourite movies
July 14

Another Poem

Green Blades of Springtime

I saw the green blades of Springtime and wore the red sash,
As I held Laura's hand near the church 'neath the ash.
We were sworn in communion, blessed by some priest,
And we sang songs to Mary at the May Flower Feast.
They said I ate his body, they said I drank his blood
I'd confessed my past sins and they said that made me good
I'd trained for confession after Easter had gone
And the Sins I'd told father I'd lied all but one
For in preparation my mind blank it had run,
The fib about Billy's window was given me by a nun.
So if you're short of faith and losing the plot,
Just call on some Padre and give it a shot.
You could make a new confession after 30 odd years
And talk through a shutter about urges and fears.
I saw the green blades of springtime poke out from the soil,
gave glory to worm and woodlouse and their wondrous toil.

July 09

My Kitten Cora by Estella Montebank-Bliss

My Kitten Cora
 
My kitten Cora tells no lies,
Plays with the light behind her eyes.
Hisses sparks at my iv'ries pressed,
Music bores her, no interest.

Remember my kitten? Pray tell,
How she purred with delight to smell
"Old Gibney", "Tweed Turtle". Release
My Cora. Her agonies, cease.

Come sweet tonight! Waken Cora.
I'll not stir, freely adore her!
If you hear my voice, do not mind.
I pleasure in sharing your find.
 
Gavin Lockey, 2008
July 08

Garden Manoeuvres

 
                           

Garden Manoeuvres

Spying across the border
I see they are on manoeuvres
The rabbit has been put back in the hutch
And the football it had been humping returned to the garden shed

They listen acutely
Flailed by the barking of the sergeant
Repairing the caterpillar tracks
Snagged by the too-big gravel at the end of the path

“Fire in the hole” shouts the eldest
The roar of the warrior tank starts
It growls with all its large Wal-Mart
Batteries – on a DC charge into the light bricks, splayed

First to go, the barbecue
-disposable-
The turret of the tank turns 90 and kerching!
The explosive noise brings neighbours out

they shrug back in

Sergeant daddy
Controlling the campaign
Shouting at the kids over and again
Twisting controls

Straifing 

His bearded satans of pain

Suddenly silence
Not armistice yet
 Young Lenny "you stupid get!”
Stood on waypoint 6

Battle over

                                                                                                               Air turns blue
                                                                                                        Sergeant dad sees red
                                                                                                      “Get yerself to fuckin’ bed!
                                                                                         Don’t argue, from now son, you’re Corporal Shit.”

 

                                                                                                                Gavin Lockey, 2008

Sorry about the formatting...this word editor is being a proper pain in the arse (as opposed to an improper one, of course)!

July 07

Poem of the Day

Girl of Sand: Woman of Strength

little girl keeps getting lost
sliding off her rainbow
trying to untie her shoes

and she's counting up the cost
of the company she's keeping
saving up those violet tattoos

she thinks love is like a sin
knocks you out as you fall in
and every kick is gonna leave a bruise

young girls
and
wishes,
tight spots
and
dirty dishes,
deadlines
and
waistline,
schoolgirl crushes
and valentines

crawling up against the walls
no escape from Bedford Falls
no 'stage' to board from town at noon

you may not think i have a heart
kind of scared and not that smart
but pass the rope and I'll lasso your moon

 

 

Gavin Lockey, 2008

July 04

Poem of the Day

Happy Birthday Marie, 100

Happy Birthday Marie, 100,
splashed across the evening news.
Replete with colour photograph
and wearing another girl's shoes.

Happy Birthday Marie, not knowing.
In meltdown, fused in your chair.
Your family, it says, loved the telegram,
and look, there's the Deputy Mayor!

Happy Birthday Marie, not hearing.
The paper describes you, past tense.
You dream of a cat that sits on your lap,
while none of this makes any sense.

Happy Birthday Marie - demented
- alone with your family 'round.
Long suffering daughter with crucifixed grin,
aware that you're already drowned.

 

 

Gavin Lockey, 2008

 

 
Photo 1 of 19