Give

Pic credit: Dave Booda

Of all the public places, dear

to make a scene, I’ve chosen here.

Of all the doorways in the world

to choose to sleep, I’ve chosen yours.

I’m on the street, under the stars.

For coppers I can dance or sing.

For silver-swallow swords, eat fire.

For gold-escape from locks and chains.

It’s not as if I’m holding out

for frankincense or myrrh, just change.

You give me tea. That’s big of you.

I’m on my knees. I beg of you.

~ Simon Armitage

Give

Pic credit: Dave Booda

Of all the public places, dear

to make a scene, I’ve chosen here.

Of all the doorways in the world

to choose to sleep, I’ve chosen yours.

I’m on the street, under the stars.

For coppers I can dance or sing.

For silver-swallow swords, eat fire.

For gold-escape from locks and chains.

It’s not as if I’m holding out

for frankincense or myrrh, just change.

You give me tea. That’s big of you.

I’m on my knees. I beg of you.

~ Simon Armitage

You’re Beautiful

Photo credit: sideshowmom from morguefile.com

because you’re classically trained.

I’m ugly because I associate piano wire with strangulation.

You’re beautiful because you stop to read the cards in newsagents’ windows about lost cats and missing dogs.

I’m ugly because of what 1 did to that jellyfish with a lolly-stick and a big stone.

You’re beautiful because for you, politeness is instinctive, not a marketing campaign

I’m ugly because desperation is impossible to hide.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you believe in coincidence and the power of thought.

I’m ugly because I proved God to be a mathematical impossibility.

You’re beautiful because you prefer home-made soup to the packet stuff.

I’m ugly because once, at a dinner party, I defended the aristocracy and wasn’t even drunk. 

You’re beautiful because you can’t work the remote control.

I’m ugly because of satellite television and twenty-four hour rolling news.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you cry at weddings as well as funerals.

I’m ugly because I think .of children as another species from a different world. 

You’re beautiful because you look great in any colour including red.

I’m ugly because I think shopping is strictly for the acquisition of material goods. 

You’re beautiful because when you were born, undiscovered planets lined up to peep over the rim of your cradle and lay gifts of gravity and light at your miniature feet.

I’m ugly for saying ‘love at first sight’ is another form of mistaken identity and that the most human of all responses is to gloat.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you’ve never seen the inside of a car-wash,

I’m ugly because I always ask for a receipt. 

You’re beautiful for sending a box of shoes to the third world.

I’m ugly because I remember the telephone numbers of ex-girlfriends and the year Schubert was born. 

You’re beautiful because you sponsored a parrot in a zoo.

I’m ugly because when I sigh it’s like the slow collapse of a circus tent.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you can point at a man in a uniform and laugh.

I’m ugly because I was a police informer in a previous life. 

You’re beautiful because you drink a litre of water and eat three pieces of fruit a day.

I’m ugly for taking the line that a meal without meat is a beautiful woman with one eye. 

You’re beautiful because you don’t see love as a competition and you know how to lose.

I’m ugly because I kissed the FA Cup then held it up to the crowd.

You’re beautiful because of a single buttercup in the top buttonhole of your cardigan.

I’m ugly because I said the World’s Strongest Woman was a muscleman in a dress.

You’re beautiful because you couldn’t live in a lighthouse.

I’m ugly for making hand-shadows in front of the giant bulb, so when they look up, the captains of vessels in distress see the ears of a rabbit, or the eye of a fox, or the legs of a galloping black horse.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

~ Simon Armitage

You’re Beautiful

Photo credit: sideshowmom from morguefile.com

because you’re classically trained.

I’m ugly because I associate piano wire with strangulation.

You’re beautiful because you stop to read the cards in newsagents’ windows about lost cats and missing dogs.

I’m ugly because of what 1 did to that jellyfish with a lolly-stick and a big stone.

You’re beautiful because for you, politeness is instinctive, not a marketing campaign

I’m ugly because desperation is impossible to hide.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you believe in coincidence and the power of thought.

I’m ugly because I proved God to be a mathematical impossibility.

You’re beautiful because you prefer home-made soup to the packet stuff.

I’m ugly because once, at a dinner party, I defended the aristocracy and wasn’t even drunk. 

You’re beautiful because you can’t work the remote control.

I’m ugly because of satellite television and twenty-four hour rolling news.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you cry at weddings as well as funerals.

I’m ugly because I think .of children as another species from a different world. 

You’re beautiful because you look great in any colour including red.

I’m ugly because I think shopping is strictly for the acquisition of material goods. 

You’re beautiful because when you were born, undiscovered planets lined up to peep over the rim of your cradle and lay gifts of gravity and light at your miniature feet.

I’m ugly for saying ‘love at first sight’ is another form of mistaken identity and that the most human of all responses is to gloat.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you’ve never seen the inside of a car-wash,

I’m ugly because I always ask for a receipt. 

You’re beautiful for sending a box of shoes to the third world.

I’m ugly because I remember the telephone numbers of ex-girlfriends and the year Schubert was born. 

You’re beautiful because you sponsored a parrot in a zoo.

I’m ugly because when I sigh it’s like the slow collapse of a circus tent.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you can point at a man in a uniform and laugh.

I’m ugly because I was a police informer in a previous life. 

You’re beautiful because you drink a litre of water and eat three pieces of fruit a day.

I’m ugly for taking the line that a meal without meat is a beautiful woman with one eye. 

You’re beautiful because you don’t see love as a competition and you know how to lose.

I’m ugly because I kissed the FA Cup then held it up to the crowd.

You’re beautiful because of a single buttercup in the top buttonhole of your cardigan.

I’m ugly because I said the World’s Strongest Woman was a muscleman in a dress.

You’re beautiful because you couldn’t live in a lighthouse.

I’m ugly for making hand-shadows in front of the giant bulb, so when they look up, the captains of vessels in distress see the ears of a rabbit, or the eye of a fox, or the legs of a galloping black horse.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

Ugly like he is,

Beautiful like hers,

Beautiful like Venus,

Ugly like his,

Beautiful like she is,

Ugly like Mars.

~ Simon Armitage

It Ain't What You Do, It's What It Does To You

Photo credit: puravida from morguefile.com

I have not bummed across America

with only a dollar to spare, one pair

of busted Levi's and a bowie knife.

I have lived with thieves in Manchester.

I have not padded through the Taj Mahal,

barefoot, listening to the space between

each footfall picking up and putting down

its print against the marble floor. But I

skimmed flat stones across Black Moss on a day

so still I could hear each set of ripples

as they crossed. I felt each stone's inertia

spend itself against the water; then sink.

I have not toyed with a parachute cord

while perched on the lip of a light-aircraft;

but I held the wobbly head of a boy

at the day centre, and stroked his fat hands.

And I guess that the tightness in the throat

and the tiny cascading sensation

somewhere inside us are both part of that

sense of something else. That feeling, I mean.

-- Simon Armitage

It Ain't What You Do, It's What It Does To You

Photo credit: puravida from morguefile.com

I have not bummed across America

with only a dollar to spare, one pair

of busted Levi's and a bowie knife.

I have lived with thieves in Manchester.

I have not padded through the Taj Mahal,

barefoot, listening to the space between

each footfall picking up and putting down

its print against the marble floor. But I

skimmed flat stones across Black Moss on a day

so still I could hear each set of ripples

as they crossed. I felt each stone's inertia

spend itself against the water; then sink.

I have not toyed with a parachute cord

while perched on the lip of a light-aircraft;

but I held the wobbly head of a boy

at the day centre, and stroked his fat hands.

And I guess that the tightness in the throat

and the tiny cascading sensation

somewhere inside us are both part of that

sense of something else. That feeling, I mean.

-- Simon Armitage