Christopher Barnes

Two Poems
Lager Advert

True-to-type tips of millet

Are momentous.

Point blank into tussocks

We surround the billabong

By the stoop of fleabane glade –

To the telescoped peaks.

Each to each, us and them.



Slackening for lung-gulps

In sun whacked minutes,

We touch down at the plinth.

There settles an amber lake

In a polyvinyl bucket,

A homely make-believe pond

From which to bend and swig.




Lager Diet Sport

Undimpled tins,

Glint-winky as clinking silver –

                            Bowled,

In-a-spin tins, clunked tins,

Sloshing through tenpin checkouts.

return to SHAMPOO 31