JINGLE ON MY SON!

JINGLE ON MY SON!
A doughty champion of his local culture.(Poet Tom Hubbard)Your performance at the city hall was soooooooooo good! Christoph thought it was excellent! (Carolyn)

29.3.11

HUIS DE BEURS, GRONINGEN





































HUIS DE BEURS



Spinning and reeling,

days slipped by the window,

thudding clouds.

We rock in candlelight,

piano glows.

Sun’s sunk into the red carpet,

blood in the skin of the wine,

juicy dregs of another spilt day.

Old friends they have come

through this infernal revolving door

and gone on to evolve

long faces in the mist.

New vistas swing

through the old market

to make the lifelight

shine in our hearts.

Dragging on the stubs of years,

blowing out memory’s vague smoke.

Wet cobbles

glint with the dreams of fish,

flashing girls stream by

on darting bikes.

The crippled sunset

of war years,

the modern politics of fear.

Throw me another cigar

hand over your gear,

let us meet

in socialist song.

Your fleeting poetry

is a scarf tossed

round my neck.

My handsome northern mate,

I am going Dutch tonight.

That Mr Piano Man

flies across the bar

to catch an A Train again

for the fresh morning,

love’s daybreak.

My darling,

kiss my poet's lips,

let us greet the warm flesh

of Groningen

breathing.






KEITH ARMSTRONG

the jingling geordie

My photo
whitley bay, tyne and wear, United Kingdom
poet and raconteur