Tag Archives: poem

Spam Folder

Spam folder

Apologies, yes, I definitely
Would have been at the important committee meeting,
For I thrive on such and relish
Every moment in your company.
But I am human, and mistakes occur,
And when you add to this
The whims of modern technology,
It’s no surprise when things get missed.
The email
Must have gone in my spam folder.

Oh, I didn’t know it was your anniversary!
And the party you had - the garden party -
In which you were trying out your gas barbecue
And some recipes you’ve been practising
Involving hummus and pesto
And the exercise you were doing in which you were
To invite every attendee to meditate and find their
Inner mallard
Sounds like it would have been absolutely marvellous.
It’s a shame I didn’t go and completely missed it.
The email
Must have gone in my spam folder.

Oh my goodness I didn’t even know
That your daughter was learning the violin.
The school recital sounds like it would have been
Really really 
REALLY enjoyable.
Your email
Must have gone in my spam folder.

I didn’t even know that it was your birthday!
You should really broadcast these things.
And a party too? Dammit!
I would have loved to have come round yours and watched
A whole evening of The Three Stooges
And certainly wouldn’t have tried to
Gouge out my own eyes
with a garden trowel 
Or hope to spontaneously combust.
Your email
Must have gone in my spam folder.

Renewal of your wedding vows?
Bet that was good.
Spam folder.

Trombone concerto.
Shame.
Didn’t know.
Spam folder.

The whole of planet Earth
After the year 2016.
I didn’t see the notifications.
I didn’t see the memo.
The slow rise of fascism.
Environmental disaster.
International pandemics.
The inexorable and menacing rise of AI
And Taylor Swift.
I only heard about Taylor Swift the other day.
I thought it was a lightning quick haberdashery.
I didn’t get the note, you see.
I didn’t get prior warning.
I saw a Swedish man the other day
Cooking tinned pork and ham.
Using his spatula to curve it right round.
Spam folder. Spam folder.
It all must have gone into my spam folder.
Everything, the entire nature of existence.
It must have gone into my spam folder.

I’ll check it more often from now on.

Honk

Honk

Oh, when the goose is amorous,
Willing to express his tender romantic inclinations
To Mrs Goose
And love is quite the possibility,
Goose poetry forms in his mind,
And words take on extra meaning
To which he gives voice,
To goose sonnets and goose odes
To explain his heartfelt love.
He takes a deep breath 
And strikes her gentle shoulder
And says
HONK

A storm of words cascades through his brain!
He eulogises the sweetness inherent in Mrs Goose
That she should set afire his soul
With burning lust,
That he should softly purr this tender refrain:
HONK

And Mrs Goose is turned on by his words,
Turned on by the subtlety of his eloquence
And replied with great charm
And a keen eye for erotic repartee
HONK

William Shakesgoose with his feathery quill
Penned odes to love which on the page he did spill
Explaining what it mean to be alive and be free
That even today we should proudly quote he
Standing proud on that Elizabethan stage and proclaiming
HONK

Oscar Wildgoose, with a fey wave of his wing
Could reduce a room to laugher with his legendary wit
For language danced at his beck and call,
Such hilarious put downs and Bonne mots 
For he was often heard to quip:
HONK

Flying to Belgium
The pilot just happened to be a goose
Came over the tannoy to give us
The expected arrival time in Brussels
HONK

A crowd of sexed up male gooses
Gathered outside the vehicle hooter testing facility
They’re getting ever so wound up
By the sky sexuality of the
Noises coming from within.
Oh, baby baby,
Talk dirty to me.
HONK

Goose literature 
Translated for a feathery audience
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
HONK
Les Miserables
HONK
The Canterbury Tales
HONK
Marcel Proust’s A la recherche du temps perdu 
HONK HONK
(It’s in two volumes)
And perhaps
A haiku
HONK

The man of my dreams, so butch and fit 
With a face like Adonis and the body of a god
Oh, I said to him, sing for me, Stefan,
Give voice to your
Rampant masculinity
And he said
.
.
.
.
HONK

Cowboys on a Tugboat / Little House, live in Torquay, March 2025

Had a great night performing at Be Spoken in Torquay last night. Here are two poems from my set, the audience was a bit sizzled so I had to belt out some old and new bangers!

Daniel Cooper, this is your history – An except from The Neon Yak, by Robert Garnham

Hello, here’s another excerpt from my new novel, which you can purchase here https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-jewwrd5.html?q=The+neon+yak&page=1&pageSize=4

The Neon Yak

My novel The Neon Yak is published today by Stoat Books. A tale of growing up, coming of age, magic, folklore, the dark woods of Surrey, and a drag queen called Tina Afterburner.

“Have you ever felt like a stranger in your own life? The Neon Yak is a beautifully written and deeply introspective novel that explores the challenges of growing up different. Set in the heart of 1980s suburbia, it follows Daniel Cooper, a boy caught between his true self and the expectations imposed upon him. As he navigates school bullies, family tensions, and the constant backdrop of motorways and distant city lights, Daniel finds refuge in books, music, and his vivid imagination. Amidst his struggle with societal norms and self-discovery, a voice from within—embodied by the captivating and enigmatic Tina—urges him to embrace his authentic identity.”

Here’s an excerpt from the novel, a short chapter entitled ‘One Day I Levitated’.

You can order the book at the moment from Stoat Books’ Lulu site right here: https://www.lulu.com/shop/robert-garnham/the-neon-yak/paperback/product-2m4jj2e.html?q=The+Neon+Yak&page=1&pageSize=4&fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR24JqIowDGJ-t10StfCY8FSIrOKB3Pn7k9momkiK_AYBZBVfAwUS8Icivk_aem_aXHTimgkDLXM2AXc8pzPCA