As I sit with you here
spelling out every tear
Telling mind heart and soul
of the things that I fear
Here we share common ground
All the knowledge we seekÂ
manifests in this place
As the day falls to night
we submerge to let goÂ
Any boundaries of mind
soon expand in the flow
Thoughts implode in us now
Running concepts like streams
and expressions ...
Sunday 31st August 2008 10:55 pm
Farther than father can be
Donât call him my father
I donât have one
Never want one!
Takes more than your indiscretion
Lack of backbone
Your desolation of hope
To name âthatâ my father
How could you?
Why would you?
Fathers are a fairy tale
A sick joke
Alive in books
The stuff âdreamsâ are made of
Like Santa Claus...
Sunday 31st August 2008 2:49 pm
Also by Moira Eribenne:I just want a dog! |
I hate what I am doing to you,
trying to get you to hate me.
A map continues to elude my grasp,
bringing us to the same yearned for moment in time.
What I am going to say, rips my still beating heart from my chest.
All air is driven from my lungs, through my lips, as they part, saying,
âYou should leave me, find another!â
I feel so depressed and low saying that,
Sunday 31st August 2008 4:12 am
Also by Phil Golding:Congestion of Souls | Love is a Cruel Mistress | Take one thought | City my City |
Is there anything to say?
Is there any point in saying anything?
Does she love me in her own way?
Does she love me strong enough to make me stay?
Is working at it working out?
Would not working at it work out better?
Saturday 30th August 2008 1:15 pmFeed the world, part thirty-three | The three-part coo of the dove | Manchester open-top bus tour | Manchester City | Magic bus | Naughty boys | Darwin, Dawkins and Dr Williams | Can't fly the nest | Wheels on fire | Bad weather warning | Beijing calling | Stars stuck |
The moon hangs like a yelmun segment,
over Glastonburic fairy lights.
This is always so hard to do.
Bump, bump. Rattle
A small hand twists my stomach.
Neon, sodium and xenon flies by.
I see nothing.
I think only of her.
Her full luxurious locks.
Dark skin and dark eyes.
Dark is my mood.
We rattle and roll, twist and climb
Friday 29th August 2008 9:49 pm
In front of the stage in the gardens
must have been 50 photographers
with metal cases, rucksacks, shoulder
bags, tripods, spare cameras round
their necks (just in case I suppose)
and holding up one with a huge lens
about 9â long in black, grey and even
one camouflaged in shades of green)
pointing to Phil Woods & Friends
roaring through some standards
from the American Son...
Friday 29th August 2008 4:59 pm
Also by Rodney Wood:ABOUT DEATH | THE THINGS THAT WILL HAPPEN TODAY | THE OTHER ROOM | VALI, THE DRUID APPRENTICE | SEEING AN ALIEN | 1963, WHEN THE SNOW STOPPED FALLING |
Adam and Eve lay down in the garden
When a part of him started to harden
Eve said âNot to be graphic,
All my urges are Sapphic
Please forgive me if I beg your pardonâ.
Friday 29th August 2008 1:27 pm
Also by Mark Niel:Theorem |
According to many students and writers of poetry Rhyme is Dead... So be it...
Rhyme is Dead!!!!!
Oh my God! Can it be true?
Rhyme is dead, itâs gone, itâs through.
Itâs a useless skill, for one to possess
Itâs not big itâs not clever, it doesnât impress.
Itâs stupid, pointless, childish word-play
So sterile and so totally passÃ©
And the people who write or read r...
Wednesday 27th August 2008 9:15 pm
My little girl, as she was
Riding a pair of shoulders.
Frozen in a shutter lens wink.
Blink and there gone, time runs on.
A snap that caught a snippet of life.
Wrapped, riding hooded in a red blanket,
Shrouded in mystery
Amidst the snowflakes, each one unique.
Looking back at the lens
All innocence and ambivalence.
I donât know, should I laugh, smile, shout, eyes open, closed
Wednesday 27th August 2008 9:01 pm
My Father is not superman (simple words of Love)
Iâm hoping you can help dad
I rely upon you
I recall moments in my youthful recruitment
When you taught me the wicked ways of the world
How a spider injects a fly
The hapless struggle of its paper wings
Its every decreasing bursts
As it zips entangled the web
Dead, we watched that together
In the dim lit garden shed, our classroom
One lesson o...
Wednesday 27th August 2008 11:32 amWhite Goods (pt2) | White Goods (pt1) | Mr Salters Chemistry set | My Kitty Kat | this is my social life |
My Date With The Kitten Strangler
I went on a dating site unlike any other
And chatted to a lass who you wouldnât want to introduce to your mother
âCos youâd be disowned and forced to live in shame
If what was written on the screen was in fact her real name
But I thought, what the hell, why let these feelings linger
And so I set up a date with âThe Kitten Stranglerâ
Tuesday 26th August 2008 10:12 pm
Also by Cayn White:John Cooper Clarke gig, Full Details |
He sits, a painted smile upon his face,
Failing to hide his discomfort in his own skin;
The makeup feels like just another mask,
But the tears are real.
A hat and cane lie, discarded by his feet,
The former crumpled, the latter broken.
He forsakes his act,
The jovial nature,
Ever smiling face,
The bringer of joy.
Forever, finished with the young.
As the wrinkles swallow the ...
Tuesday 26th August 2008 3:49 pm
I see the storms in you
in the loch of cloud
sweet air flowers
rain on the horizon
the reborn song
all the moments writing
in the mind
days weeping in shadows
love waits deep in the eyes
bond of feathers on the bouquet of air
I see the storms in you
everyday a battle
thoughts a soak
on the winze
the sky dreamers cloak
Tuesday 26th August 2008 10:09 am
Also by Neil Francis Brooks:Before i had a language. | Rudiments | The balloon | Small poem | Star of you | Love poem to my lover |
Its mornings are washed in post-storm sunlight; burnishing slate roofs on sleepy-eyed homes; casting shadows on streets dusted down with a baked bread scent.
Its song is the creak and clunk of a front door that fills the world and shakes the sunrise from its slumber; each dawn a melody and rhythm for footfall to fathom.
Its expression is found beneath the weathered surface of...
Tuesday 26th August 2008 8:12 am
Also by Steve O'Connor:Holocaust Deniers |
Great music and tunes in Nature
Piano, Violin, Trombone
And Tuba just to begin
Songs of all birds
Four Seasons in a year
Spring with fresh blooms
Flowers, birds, green trees
Sunny days and the blue sky
All the joy and Glory
Singers have sang
Poets wrote beautiful rhymes
To emphasize the beauty of Nature
Summer vacation time
Love in the air for the love birds
When warm season arrives
Tuesday 26th August 2008 12:28 am
Also by Zuzanna Musial:WITH OUT YOU | POETRY FRIENDS |
live and die
and very inviting
oh glory be
praise the sacredness
of true womanhood
I'm gladly trapped
a joyous prisoner
playing with you
playing with my thoughts
melting into pure lust
you desire me
to exhibit my
I'm aware of your
of your red blooded
and beating heart
together we'll explore
our sacred whore
and we'll return from paradise
desiring more m...
Tuesday 26th August 2008 12:06 am
Also by Lenny Gazbowski:Broadcasting Bullshit Corporation | What Price Freedom ? | Am I ? | Pet Dog Poem |
The house style is imperial, conservative in dress and etiquette,
Vestments and head wear are de rigeur.
Superiors are approached with bowed heads
And addressed as Sir,Your Worship, Mrs or Madam,
Depending on their place in the hierarchy.
The peasants and minor clerks, have long known their place.
Patronage is too generous to jeopardise through flippant challen...
Monday 25th August 2008 5:25 pm
Also by Dave Morgan:Hovis in Wonderland : Latitude Festival 2008 |
She came forth; her eyes etched with the thought of fresh food. I loved the texture of her nose as it nuzzled and nuzzled. "Another?" I asked, and so I reached again.
Antlers pushed against my ribs and thanking me she ate her final morsel.
We parted and with a quick glance, she made her way north, as I walked south towards the pier.
By Belinda Johnston - All poems and prose are copyright of...
Saturday 23rd August 2008 3:32 pm
Also by Belinda:(untitled) |
The ingredientâs for the disturbed
Take a couple of parents
Let them sketch violence
Instead of pretty things
Take the vacant father
Children should not be witnesses
Cease the courtshipâs of violence
There are children watching
Donât you realise?
Pressed ears touch floorboard
Donât kid yourself they are asleep
The selfish rowing couple
The guilty actions reap
The adolescent tear...
Friday 22nd August 2008 7:31 pmfive O'clock shadow | wheeled out | Rude Paul | Lady Lulu |
Chaos of dreams
crash into my mind
like violent waves
trying to drown my worries out,
but each day comes
with me struggling to stay
on solid ground.
My dreams have lit the sky,
but still there are cracks
along the pavement.
And if I were to fall again,
would I keep falling down?
Instead, I drift
upon each moment spent
and I wait
of more doors opening.
And then I too can tak...
Friday 22nd August 2008 7:19 pmIn Their Memory | Wings Above Me | Fine Line |
Lucifer had misplaced his horns
cursed with an absent mind
instead he donned a crown of thorns
and thought he looked divine.
But the barbs took root inside his head
effecting a subtle change
while all his imps were fearful
that he'd become deranged.
For declaring that the temperature
of hell was rather hot
he demanded air conditioning installed
at every single spot.
Friday 22nd August 2008 12:22 am
Also by Sandre Clays:The Medal | Stretched | Sharing |
We British are good on a bike
As fast as you bloomin well like
We British are good in a boat
As long as the damn thing floats
We row and we pedal
To win all those medals
Now we should be bold
Weâd be sure to win gold
If we could go go go go
In a lightweight pedalo
Ps Iâm brilliant at crazy golf
Thursday 21st August 2008 5:47 pm
Also by Tim Linton:Love Beach |
Thursday 21st August 2008 1:29 pm
Also by Richard Brooks:Welcome to the city Pt 2 | Memories | Life's Question | Painful Words | Welcome to the City | Genesis | Taste The Day | Timeless Finity | As I Leave | Dsyelxic? I tihnk not! |
Its gathering in the storm, and
I gather my weeds, stand facing it.
The force blows through my dreads and
each one lifts in fear,then lies back to cower
in this billowing. I stand weak kneed, small,
terrified to my core but
still standing. For lying, is no option for
the gladiator about to face certain death.
My only weapon is laughter, I throw back my head and
Peal. Even when the wind knocks my mir...
Thursday 21st August 2008 11:16 am
Also by Abi:Fourth | Bus Rage - A short story |
The next breath
And feel the thump on my chest
but why do I see no one
the light is bright
does that mean I am dead
no its just the paramedics torch
that sound in my ears its so loud it hurts
could it be Gabrielâs horn
calling me to judgement
I donât understand did I do wrong
to stop them hur...
Wednesday 20th August 2008 3:51 pm
Singing loud and proud!
It's Saturday's game
we go away on the train
spirits not dampened
by the torrential rain
Arrive on their patch
like lions in a pack
Moving on together
that tribal mentality
I know its not right
but it is the reality
Finishing our be...
Tuesday 19th August 2008 6:27 pm
Bet you've never been so close
where you feel someones pain,
their heads wrecked
you too going insane,
have you ever been so close
you can read someones mind,
and all the bad you have done to them
you wish you could rewind,
have you ever been so close
that you would kill or die,
have you everbeen so close
that when your happy - you cry,
have you ever been so close
you can always talk ...
Friday 15th August 2008 12:45 pm
Also by Sarah Clark:Hear say | So i dont care? | a lucky escape |
Cousin of the peach
Quite unlike the fuzziness
Velvety smoothness, firm and succulent
And the flesh!
A yellow festering and humid sun!
The nectar of secrecy
Gifted by Mother Nature to my mouth!
Iâm panic buying my nectarines
Recession beckons and
I must sink my central incisors into my nectarines
The initial dive into my dearest
Is enough, to wish all other senses away
But the ...
Friday 15th August 2008 12:33 pmThe Shrink | Little Digmoor |
I am busy working on the Moon Calendar for next year, and on Wednesdays working at the West Yorkshire Print Workshop, open access for printmaking. This week I etched the copper plate of a drawing of a willow tree that I made many years ago on the bank of the Tyne.
Poetry is a reflection on life. There are lots of skilful ways of turning a piece of writing into something that feels complete, that...
Thursday 14th August 2008 2:32 pm
The tram is full again as I board it to work.
I am standing hip-bone to hip-bone with a woman who marauds her mindless curves to roving eyes that are short of sockets,
They rest now, touch-toe-still in molasses,
And those that didn't make it are trapped behind thick Buddy Holly frames.
I think some of them are going the wrong way to the seaside, and some of them want chips already, some are quite poss...
Thursday 14th August 2008 12:53 pm
Loading the player…
7,000 animals they said.
6,000 of them jackdaws, mice
and sparrows getting the best
free handout in Cheshire.
800 were people collecting
the rip off entry charge,
begging for donations on top,
selling over priced, crap souvenirs
and peddling junk food.
One was the tiger sleeping
in his shed.
Blinking through his torpor
at the camera flashes
from the milling horde
excited to ...
Thursday 14th August 2008 9:10 am
Also by Malpoet:Doggone Shame | Working From Home | Low Fashion | Knitting |
Izanami swirled the flood
Izanagi blew his flute
As a pair they touched the ground
And saw their death in the tree that grew.
Vatea waits for Papa
Beneath a mango tree
He picks at ancient comestains
Pandora runs for president
Trying to do some good.
But the babies she kisses get TB
And her urn's not in the mood.
All the world will watch
The first and then ...
Tuesday 12th August 2008 4:52 pm
Also by Rob Sherman:Szu-Nim-Tung, Contemplating An Orange | Tongue Coma |
This is what is like to have no words
All my words have been cut from my tongue
and I have been left mute
All words I have ever written have been burnt away like paper
All the words I have thought or thought to say have faded
like mental decay or memory loss
and I am left with nothing
other peoples words invade my space
Monday 11th August 2008 6:54 pm
I am Pavlov, she
is my dog, her phone a bell
she drools when I ring
Monday 11th August 2008 11:59 am
Also by alex iamb:Your Love | Absolute filth - not for the old or infirm | The Lament For Tampon Boy | Once More Unto The Pub Dear Friends | Break Up In Two Breaths | Pornography | My Tabloid Hell | Cocaine and Crossword Puzzles | The Trouble With Tk | alex iamb's big I thank you |
See what can happen?
THE BEST LAID PLANS O’ MEN AND TULPAS
Now here’s a tale, of men and mice
(Though which is which I leave to you)
Whose aliases must suffice
(And sadly must their motives too).
It happened one cold winter’s night
When snow lay thick upon the hills,
When Spain is hot and Scotland’s white
And all is quiet around the stills.
Saturday 9th August 2008 3:00 pm
Also by Stuart A. Paterson:A poem | Me in someone else's poem |
So, this time, Coventry. Off I trot, all the way there, find somewhere to park, only to find that The Tin Angel was .... closed. Closed, dark, gated at door and windows.
Tuesday 5th August 2008 10:11 pm
This park is bare to my eyes.
Dirty, grey slide. Absent.
It is without a rackety, clackety roundabout
And with no metal frame to climb-
This park is dangle-free.
I blame government under funding
And probably Health and Safety.
But you donât care.
Itâs a beautiful, frosticle day.
Muffled and duffled, you trip along,
Reindeer nose juxtaposed
With green winter coat,
Tuesday 5th August 2008 8:43 pm
Also by Louise Fazackerley:New Arrival |
Robert was rigid,
the rule book his ruler.
Relations with clients
were sometimes strained.
They didn't know
his panties were pretty
Lacy and small
so tight on his dickie.
His pinstripes were perfect,
his tie straight and trim.
No one would think
of challenging him,
but on Saturday he was Sally.
Robert was cross
when staff were too sloppy.
He could be stern
and terribly stropp...
Monday 4th August 2008 11:13 am
She sat in her arm chair with freshly made tea and toast
She kept looking out of the window as far as the gate post
She watched as cars came and went
Wondering if one would stop, pulling up by her fence
Another Mothers day had arrived
Yet she has tear drops in her eyes
Have they remembered that this day is truely hers
Her babies are no more, sons and daughter
All grown up and left her s...
Monday 4th August 2008 9:35 am
Enough hard truths and promises
Hugs and kisses stained with secret regret
And interrupted eye contact
You wobble between parallel worlds
Clutching, afraid to let go
When letting go will send you crashing into fact,
And in your dreams
Weave thin stories
Around the lie of your fabricated life
Paying your way with excuses
Existing in a haze of hope
Saturday 2nd August 2008 9:07 am
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