Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Too much cholesterol in too many
bites of cake too many bargains
in too many window displays too many
shoes to wear in one week and far too much
sex on today’s t.v. too many
carrier bags crammed under the stairs too many
scratch cards and coupons
stuffed into her purse, not enough
notes folded flat to the lining
lying back to back, the picture
faces conspiring and not enough
change to make a decent rattle.

Too many years of too many
fags sitting on the chest in too many
queues for a reduced perm and set
that’s had-enough of coping
with too much
rain
too much
sea-wind
and being kept under wraps
by a history of head scarves,
and the season of hats.

Too long at the sink thinking
there’s not enough
days till the Christmas crush
and not-enough-days to save
for next years holiday in Blackpool
the Lakes or the Costa del Sol,
too many pinched days
spent nibbling the corners of never enough
endless days to be basked away on lie-lows
like a babe in the shallows and sipping too
                                                              much
sangria.

Not enough days...
and not-enough-days..
not enough hands and
not enough eyes not enough
sweet-nothings poured into her ears
not enough ears to hear the too many
tales of old wives on too much
temazepan, and not enough laughs
while these not-enough days stretch
into too many yesterdays, and not-enough
tomorrows already filled to the brim with too
                                                             many
spiders lurking in too many baths with too
                                                             many
legs and far too much hair.

And that bus driver’s smile’s missing too many
teeth from one too many fights after too many
drinks or too many bites of his wife’s
fruit cakes, muttering to himself
under his too-much moustache
that he’s spent too long
squatting a double yellow line behind too many
arseholes driving too many cars under too many
middle-managers making too many cuts and too
                                                             many
changes to the old bus routes.

And there’s not enough seats and too many
people too many sneezes and too many
germs not enough
flu-jabs to deal with the threat
of the expected epidemic in the Christmas
                                                               crush
not enough days those
not-enough-days she’s beginning
to feel that its one of those days when
she’s lived one too many of these
                                                not-enough-days.