New poem: Sloppy Smiles
I’m not smiling because I’m happy
I’m smiling because I’m wrecked
Because for a weekend I can heal
The bleeding head from all the pecks
From the pecking order
I can cut the cord
And breathe with my friends
We’re not gonna stop til the very end
Pub
Club
After party
House party
Couple of hours passing for sleep
Then back to the pub
I don’t ev...
I’m smiling because I’m wrecked
Because for a weekend I can heal
The bleeding head from all the pecks
From the pecking order
I can cut the cord
And breathe with my friends
We’re not gonna stop til the very end
Pub
Club
After party
House party
Couple of hours passing for sleep
Then back to the pub
I don’t ev...
Read more and leave comments (0)
Wednesday 30th September 2009 4:20 pm
Also by Captain of the Rant:
New poem: Joke Rape World | Captain of the Rant interview... |Victory Gin
She rakes in her string, her birthday honeycombs,
with her scantily matter of apron, whistling grandiose soliloquies
to the moon. She eats phone calls with a tick
and sieves the words like gravy, oozing over
your plate; all fresh, all flesh, participants to this autumn
suffocation. She smiles when your belly
drags, your swollen head nestles in her bosom
and shows you girls in veils. Li...
with her scantily matter of apron, whistling grandiose soliloquies
to the moon. She eats phone calls with a tick
and sieves the words like gravy, oozing over
your plate; all fresh, all flesh, participants to this autumn
suffocation. She smiles when your belly
drags, your swollen head nestles in her bosom
and shows you girls in veils. Li...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Wednesday 30th September 2009 2:35 pm
Also by Marianne Daniels:
Wife | The End of the Affair | To Be | Snow | Walden | Notes From the Blank | The Silent Birds | Agnostic's Prayer | Happy Dagger | Lament | Dante's Goldfish | Besos brujos que me matan | The Fools Under a Hill | Back to School. |skipping meals on the commuter run
i found a cornflake
it was on my skirt
as i boarded a train
and sat next to a man who was more suit than flesh
he moved as far away from me
as he could
and called up his wife
from his totally up-to-date mobile phone
i pushed down the compact table
the one attached to the back of the chair ahead of me
and i put the cornflake on it
and took a picture of it
on my own mobile phone
and texted it as a m...
it was on my skirt
as i boarded a train
and sat next to a man who was more suit than flesh
he moved as far away from me
as he could
and called up his wife
from his totally up-to-date mobile phone
i pushed down the compact table
the one attached to the back of the chair ahead of me
and i put the cornflake on it
and took a picture of it
on my own mobile phone
and texted it as a m...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Tuesday 29th September 2009 9:55 pm
He deals in fairy tales
by Jessie
He deals in fairy tales,
Exploitation
Of the broken and weak,
Of those desperate,
To seek an escape,
From their dim reality.
Come look in his brochure,
Glossy pages of shiny lives,
Choose your own perfect
Once upon a time.
You can have a world,
Where the sun always shines,
You can have your palace,
Your perfect love
Always by your side.
But don’t forget,
To read the small pri...
Exploitation
Of the broken and weak,
Of those desperate,
To seek an escape,
From their dim reality.
Come look in his brochure,
Glossy pages of shiny lives,
Choose your own perfect
Once upon a time.
You can have a world,
Where the sun always shines,
You can have your palace,
Your perfect love
Always by your side.
But don’t forget,
To read the small pri...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Tuesday 29th September 2009 6:41 pm
Also by Jessie:
Hopeful Future | (untitled) | This is me... Maybe | Losing Grip | Parkinsons | Soul's questions | Give me flowers | Who says whats normal | My love | It's not my illness | Embryo | River |The Painting (in irrational subjective style)
The Painting
Bloop!
Black paint splotched against the canvas:
Thick glistening globs
Stuck on red welter.
Blip!
White goo spat from the flung brush.
“Cows?
he offered,
“In autumn?
Cynthia Buell Thomas
(couldn't resist it)...
Bloop!
Black paint splotched against the canvas:
Thick glistening globs
Stuck on red welter.
Blip!
White goo spat from the flung brush.
“Cows?
he offered,
“In autumn?
Cynthia Buell Thomas
(couldn't resist it)...
Read more and leave comments (7)
Tuesday 29th September 2009 3:32 pm
Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:
The Peacock | The Rustle of Autumn | Three A.M. on an Old Computer | Wishes |front of the queue-relapse
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
wang...
......jibber..........0909098............
well this is a tine time to walk sideways......diff....h..............minkolew.........98)_
d...
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
I'm waiting in line
wang...
......jibber..........0909098............
well this is a tine time to walk sideways......diff....h..............minkolew.........98)_
d...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Tuesday 29th September 2009 3:22 pm
Also by Tommy Carroll:
relapse | Lizzie by night | (untitled) | (untitled) | bloodburst | No Title To | brain hemorrhage | mind chin | the strangest |Nude descending staircase : one for the artygeeks
so the phone rang and this voice
‘this is Marcel Duchamp’ pause
poncey name I thought
ladies’ ‘coiffurier’ probably queer with it
‘you are a model aren’t you I was given your number
by Peggy Guggenheim’
likely story I thought but I needed the money OK I said
‘I’m doing this painting of a naked lady walking downstairs’
‘I don’t do moving or porn’
‘no I’m...
‘this is Marcel Duchamp’ pause
poncey name I thought
ladies’ ‘coiffurier’ probably queer with it
‘you are a model aren’t you I was given your number
by Peggy Guggenheim’
likely story I thought but I needed the money OK I said
‘I’m doing this painting of a naked lady walking downstairs’
‘I don’t do moving or porn’
‘no I’m...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Monday 28th September 2009 12:04 pm
Also by michael shepherd:
Deny it if you dare.. | The Guy in the Photograph | My Father's Plato | the Sadness of the Small Shopkeeper | A Thief in One's Own Home | The Prisoner's Wife by Mary Spain | Cathedral | After life : a sonnet | I read your poem | 'Young Musician of the Year' | Beloved Stranger | A postscript to Dick and so many | Dick Fozard's Wartime Navy Knife | The Couple on the Station Platform | Beyond the Cringe : A first poetry perf | Rochdale | Oneliness | Old Woman |Moving Down the Line
Get Flash to see this player.
Moving Down the Line
Walking now,
Walking head down –
Close to host of ghost like
State,
Yet only around the tired
Wooden floors of a rented home
As I’m placed unwittingly under
House arrest and I detest this
Passing of a wasted time,
Blinded by grey while
Rain slashes harsh upon
Another faded town.
Tick-Toc shouts the clock!
Stopping...
Walking now,
Walking head down –
Close to host of ghost like
State,
Yet only around the tired
Wooden floors of a rented home
As I’m placed unwittingly under
House arrest and I detest this
Passing of a wasted time,
Blinded by grey while
Rain slashes harsh upon
Another faded town.
Tick-Toc shouts the clock!
Stopping...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Monday 28th September 2009 2:14 am
Home Front (part 4)
by Neil West
Thank you for sticking with me, if you read this it's going to be some time before I post anything new, from start to finish with a bit of a break this has taken quite a while! I would love to organise a performance but I've no idea how to go about it, I imagine a friendly pub on a winter's evening, log fire casting shadows on the walls, a pint, obviously, beyond that I've no idea - anyone help?...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Sunday 27th September 2009 10:47 pm
Also by Neil West:
Home Front (part 3) | Home Front (part 2) | Home Front (part 1) | (untitled) | Happy is the Bride on Whom the Sun Shines | Et Vera Incessu Patuit Dea* | The Crimson King | The Fantom Locusta | The Last Ham Sandwich | Dignum Laude Virum Musa Vetat Mori* |A one night stanza
You wake up and find it lying next to you
It doesn’t look as good as it looked last night
But then again neither do you
What were you thinking?
When you brought these words to bed
And performed such unprintable acts
But you know there will be more words
And more nights like this...
It doesn’t look as good as it looked last night
But then again neither do you
What were you thinking?
When you brought these words to bed
And performed such unprintable acts
But you know there will be more words
And more nights like this...
Read more and leave comments (8)
Sunday 27th September 2009 8:52 pm
Also by Alvin Guinessberg:
Poem of the Month |Endless
" Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around".~ Leo Buscaglia
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pb7mWGy981g...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pb7mWGy981g...
Read more and leave comments (5)
Sunday 27th September 2009 8:14 pm
Also by Deborah Jordan:
Hebdeb | Porous | Shoormal |Driving about in London and Paris
London and Paris, a comparison
So different, yes, and ‘Vive la diffé rence!’
London is many different towns, not one
Paris is more homogeneous, more since
Baron Haussmann tore up the town, convinced
That diseases and revolutions would
Be brought to an end. And then London sensed
It needed a similar boulevard
So creating The Mall. Though The Blitz scarred
The face of London, the mon...
So different, yes, and ‘Vive la diffé rence!’
London is many different towns, not one
Paris is more homogeneous, more since
Baron Haussmann tore up the town, convinced
That diseases and revolutions would
Be brought to an end. And then London sensed
It needed a similar boulevard
So creating The Mall. Though The Blitz scarred
The face of London, the mon...
Read more and leave comments (6)
Sunday 27th September 2009 3:29 pm
Stand and Deliver.
Wrote this with thoughts on how to perform a poem/ or not depending on your stance. It's just meant to be a fun piece but might well be performed at some future date, unless anyone else would like to perform it in my absence.
If you want to look like an angel;
don't kneel down and pray!
They' re not after your money
and i am not 'the wife'. So
i don't want to hear all about your life
an...
If you want to look like an angel;
don't kneel down and pray!
They' re not after your money
and i am not 'the wife'. So
i don't want to hear all about your life
an...
Read more and leave comments (9)
Sunday 27th September 2009 1:44 pm
Love Isn't....
LOVE ISN'T......
Love isn't...a dozen red roses and a box of Thornton's,
Wrapped by a spotty teenager in a hurry to finish work....
Love isn't.
Love isn't...a table for two in a dimly lit restaurant,
Staring gormlessly at each other over the top of cheap red
candle-sticks....
Love isn't.
Love isn't...a large soppy card saying "I love you forever",
And a £3.99 bottle of cava foll...
Love isn't...a dozen red roses and a box of Thornton's,
Wrapped by a spotty teenager in a hurry to finish work....
Love isn't.
Love isn't...a table for two in a dimly lit restaurant,
Staring gormlessly at each other over the top of cheap red
candle-sticks....
Love isn't.
Love isn't...a large soppy card saying "I love you forever",
And a £3.99 bottle of cava foll...
Read more and leave comments (7)
Sunday 27th September 2009 11:24 am
Well Shod
Well Shod
Sign in a shoe-shop near by me,
‘Buy one – get one free’
Now to me that seems only fair,
Otherwise there’s not a pair....
Sign in a shoe-shop near by me,
‘Buy one – get one free’
Now to me that seems only fair,
Otherwise there’s not a pair....
Read more and leave comments (7)
Sunday 27th September 2009 8:50 am
Sweet Sixteen
Here we are again,
were here again,
it's just hanging on,
just hanging on,
thats all,
just hanging on,
just hanging on
to
memories
were here again,
it's just hanging on,
just hanging on,
thats all,
just hanging on,
just hanging on
to
memories
Read more and leave comments (5)
Saturday 26th September 2009 9:10 pm
A Short Meeting With My One True Love
by John Togher
Emily shook my hand, a smile on her face.
She told me that there is a part of everyone that remains unexplored.
I dug her philosophy;imagined atoms exploding,then tried to force my penis down her ear canal....
She told me that there is a part of everyone that remains unexplored.
I dug her philosophy;imagined atoms exploding,then tried to force my penis down her ear canal....
Read more and leave comments (11)
Saturday 26th September 2009 4:24 am
Also by John Togher:
The Waiting | Conversations About Miles Davis |Why is a Body Bag Black?
by Brian Wood
They talk of reason and the love of God
and the troops out there doing a wonderful job
They've got to be found, there's no turning back
But why is a body bag Black?
He stood on trial for the slaughter of others
They caught up with him and killed his sons and brothers
he fell through a trap door hands tied behind his back
They put him in a body bag, but was it Black...
and the troops out there doing a wonderful job
They've got to be found, there's no turning back
But why is a body bag Black?
He stood on trial for the slaughter of others
They caught up with him and killed his sons and brothers
he fell through a trap door hands tied behind his back
They put him in a body bag, but was it Black...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Friday 25th September 2009 8:57 pm
Also by Brian Wood:
Life & Stress ! | I miss my Mum. |Behind the curtain
In a land divided by mesh
Molten dew of the furnace,
Steel grasped by ember’d flesh.
charred thro’ bone, uphold the aegis,
Fists tought, body stasis.
Cherub busks an’ orniment dwellers,
Mask privacy of fortune tellers.
When is now an’ now is when,
In times we must make our own.
Acheive the status known as zen
To keep our repressive thoughts still sown.
Even then... we are still alone.
L...
Molten dew of the furnace,
Steel grasped by ember’d flesh.
charred thro’ bone, uphold the aegis,
Fists tought, body stasis.
Cherub busks an’ orniment dwellers,
Mask privacy of fortune tellers.
When is now an’ now is when,
In times we must make our own.
Acheive the status known as zen
To keep our repressive thoughts still sown.
Even then... we are still alone.
L...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Friday 25th September 2009 8:49 pm
Also by Many names, many faces...:
Era | The consort of Vulcan | Personality |The Poem That Should Never Have Been A Poem
I tried to Fight Death.
I tried to Breathe
The life Back into my Son
When I awoke to find him
Still warm, but gone.
I failed, and Death won.
For the rest of my days
That feeling will stay
With me always.
Failure, as a mum.
I Failed to protect that little one.
I failed and Death Won....
I tried to Breathe
The life Back into my Son
When I awoke to find him
Still warm, but gone.
I failed, and Death won.
For the rest of my days
That feeling will stay
With me always.
Failure, as a mum.
I Failed to protect that little one.
I failed and Death Won....
Read more and leave comments (15)
Friday 25th September 2009 10:26 am
Also by Nicky Burrows:
The Revelation of the End of Days. | Reign Of Terror | Thanatos | Catharsis |Answer
A creamy, jaundiced, dog-eared envelope
just appeared there, the bottom of a drawer,
corners bashed like wrinkled fingers,
the flap unstuck, ajar, begging for an audience.
Words of love unseen for thirty-seven years,
caught beneath the perfumed liner,
now sadly parched and mottled brown,
but saved, awaiting life’s breath awakening.
The velum cr...
just appeared there, the bottom of a drawer,
corners bashed like wrinkled fingers,
the flap unstuck, ajar, begging for an audience.
Words of love unseen for thirty-seven years,
caught beneath the perfumed liner,
now sadly parched and mottled brown,
but saved, awaiting life’s breath awakening.
The velum cr...
Read more and leave comments (4)
Thursday 24th September 2009 9:04 pm
Also by Graham Sherwood:
Nonsense Haiku | Black Messiah |Cock-up
They tried hard to emasculate
Those bastards tried again
To correct us with political
Aha! It was in vain
We stood erect, we noble folk
Rigid and firm we held
As slowly we took it in hand
And thus support then swelled
Back to the shadows spineless slid
By God they make me sick
Those that sneer, those twisted minds,
At my lovely Spotted Dick....
Those bastards tried again
To correct us with political
Aha! It was in vain
We stood erect, we noble folk
Rigid and firm we held
As slowly we took it in hand
And thus support then swelled
Back to the shadows spineless slid
By God they make me sick
Those that sneer, those twisted minds,
At my lovely Spotted Dick....
Read more and leave comments (0)
Thursday 24th September 2009 11:55 am
Also by Christopher Dawson:
come sit on my knee... | Weekend Spar | Seaside | Scarecrow, Seagull, Dustbin and me |Beyond the Equinox
Get Flash to see this player.
Beyond the Equinox
The land sleeps,
furrowed, cold and still.
Each field edge mourns
in widow’s weeds.
The flocks keep silence
on the hill,
while nature weeps
tomorrow’s seeds.
Penitent
in golden cloak,
the woodland
whispers overhead
and through the mist,
like incense smoke,
sheds slow confetti
for her dead.
No birdsong
breaks these solemn days -
wreathed...
The land sleeps,
furrowed, cold and still.
Each field edge mourns
in widow’s weeds.
The flocks keep silence
on the hill,
while nature weeps
tomorrow’s seeds.
Penitent
in golden cloak,
the woodland
whispers overhead
and through the mist,
like incense smoke,
sheds slow confetti
for her dead.
No birdsong
breaks these solemn days -
wreathed...
Read more and leave comments (12)
Thursday 24th September 2009 3:49 am
Tags: autumn,death
Twist
I am the rose painted black,
and thorns are ready
to slice you deep.
And the sun dare not step
into the shadows
of my heart.
Find the knife ready.
I’ll bleed
for black holes created
by you.
Twist
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
and thorns are ready
to slice you deep.
And the sun dare not step
into the shadows
of my heart.
Find the knife ready.
I’ll bleed
for black holes created
by you.
Twist
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
Read more and leave comments (2)
Wednesday 23rd September 2009 11:04 pm
new poem based on small PT boats in the Pacific war
lol in two text sizes, stupid!!:) anyhow Patrol Torpedo boats were used in world war 2 to harass and sink larger Japanese merchant vessels. a quite untold story.
SO FAR FROM HOME
Under a curving shimmering blue fish bowl of the sky the small Patrol Torpedo boat cruises over the gentle summer swells in the distant Pacific under summer skies torn apart by brutal bitter total war. Small PT boat...
SO FAR FROM HOME
Under a curving shimmering blue fish bowl of the sky the small Patrol Torpedo boat cruises over the gentle summer swells in the distant Pacific under summer skies torn apart by brutal bitter total war. Small PT boat...
Read more and leave comments (0)
Wednesday 23rd September 2009 3:35 pm
Also by nick armbrister:
a mix of my poems, old and new and more. |Dappled Horse
Young boy on dappled horse.
Shining hooves on tarmac road.
Rythmn of horse, control of boy,
deep happiness of freedom.
Headstrong horse fights to break away
from bit, rearing and shying.
Flash of lightning eyes, ribbons of mane.
Boy and horse as mountain stream,
running together, tumbling into gallop.
Music of laughter and galloping,
they flow on through fields and farms....
Shining hooves on tarmac road.
Rythmn of horse, control of boy,
deep happiness of freedom.
Headstrong horse fights to break away
from bit, rearing and shying.
Flash of lightning eyes, ribbons of mane.
Boy and horse as mountain stream,
running together, tumbling into gallop.
Music of laughter and galloping,
they flow on through fields and farms....
Read more and leave comments (3)
Tuesday 22nd September 2009 10:32 pm
Edinburgh
Metrolyptic
Warp, weft and cryptic.
These knotted streets,
Painted, Scripted...
Look up:
This crumpled mountain
Embraced by ocean,
Awash with the splashed emotion
Of those thrusting themselves
Into this attrition,
Battling the elements and competition.
Look up:
This imposing fortress.
Stacked bombastic monument of grandeur,
Daily announcing itself with noisy candour.
Whilst a washin...
Warp, weft and cryptic.
These knotted streets,
Painted, Scripted...
Look up:
This crumpled mountain
Embraced by ocean,
Awash with the splashed emotion
Of those thrusting themselves
Into this attrition,
Battling the elements and competition.
Look up:
This imposing fortress.
Stacked bombastic monument of grandeur,
Daily announcing itself with noisy candour.
Whilst a washin...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Tuesday 22nd September 2009 8:43 pm
Also by Danni Antagonist:
for those about to slam.... |Lost....
by Dave Dunn
At last she gave up trying
When the hassles with kids
Had become much too much
For one who'd suffered such
One lied for a living
Another was so butch
And beat up all the others
Her sisters, her brothers
She sank into such deep dismay
Receding more each lonely day
There was nothing of interest
On tv is all she'd ever say
No job held any longer
No more need to get up
A tin can full of lager
And a...
When the hassles with kids
Had become much too much
For one who'd suffered such
One lied for a living
Another was so butch
And beat up all the others
Her sisters, her brothers
She sank into such deep dismay
Receding more each lonely day
There was nothing of interest
On tv is all she'd ever say
No job held any longer
No more need to get up
A tin can full of lager
And a...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Tuesday 22nd September 2009 7:28 pm
Also by Dave Dunn:
Nine Eleven Tribute | Waiting for you | An Acorns Throw | Two Kisses |"The Passing of Aunt Grace"
New show: "The Passing of Aunt Grace" with From the Soul Productions on at the Courtyard Theatre, Shoreditch 13-18 October 7.30pm (except Fri 16). Tickets cost £14, £10 concessions. If you're interested in coming to see it, email tickets@thecourtyard.org.uk and give them your name, the amount of tickets required and the date and they will confirm your booking. See you there! Alain...
Read more and leave comments (0)
Tuesday 22nd September 2009 1:13 pm
Also by Alain English:
New Gigs |Never Shag A Poet
by Yolande
Never Shag A Poet
Sitting at my table I’m a face in the crowd
As I listen to the words that are read;
The stories and the laughs and the horrors that I hear
Reveal brief but clear glimpse inside your head.
Loss it would seem is a theme that recurs
As each poet lets their story unfold;
In all of it’s guises, it’s many shapes and sizes,
Events are now painfully retold.
Death i...
Sitting at my table I’m a face in the crowd
As I listen to the words that are read;
The stories and the laughs and the horrors that I hear
Reveal brief but clear glimpse inside your head.
Loss it would seem is a theme that recurs
As each poet lets their story unfold;
In all of it’s guises, it’s many shapes and sizes,
Events are now painfully retold.
Death i...
Read more and leave comments (6)
Sunday 20th September 2009 8:06 pm
THE GREAT UNWASHED
Life's river, it would seem, has flowed too far
And on the bar, thrown up in wild excess
A mess that, once 'a life', now moribund,
Contrived a fund of folly unrestrained,
That earthly rivers, drained of fulsome flow,
Brought fertile lands to dust, where naught will grow.
It fell to man, this archetype to maim;
To claim the rivers his, to have and hold;
To make so bold that life's s...
And on the bar, thrown up in wild excess
A mess that, once 'a life', now moribund,
Contrived a fund of folly unrestrained,
That earthly rivers, drained of fulsome flow,
Brought fertile lands to dust, where naught will grow.
It fell to man, this archetype to maim;
To claim the rivers his, to have and hold;
To make so bold that life's s...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Sunday 20th September 2009 4:34 pm
Also by Barrie Singleton:
DISCWORLD HYMN |Gringo on the Chickenbus.
by Tim Ellis
This is a plug for my Fringe show at the Ilkley Literature Festival. It's called Gringo on the Chickenbus (ignore what the ILF has published in their program - they're idiots!), and it's at the Ilkley Playhouse on Tuesday 6th October , 9pm. Admission free. Look on the gig guide for a map.
It's a one-man show, mostly poetry with a lot of bouncing about and a song thrown in, and some lovely...
It's a one-man show, mostly poetry with a lot of bouncing about and a song thrown in, and some lovely...
Read more and leave comments (0)
Friday 18th September 2009 10:29 pm
The Sausage Roll Kid 1973
It’s a Friday. A February morning in 1973. I am a ten year old boy, excited to a twitch. The sun shines and there’s frost on the windows. There is quiet all around, but I am wide awake because this will be my best day. I know that everyone, here in this house, my Mum, Dad and older brother Roger are fast asleep and still. That the whole town of Basildon is snoring. I like it. I like it lots....
Read more and leave comments (2)
Friday 18th September 2009 4:00 pm
Losing interest
(This is a satirical poem on increased dependence of the internet in the past decade or so.)
Some years ago,
I would open a book,
Regardless of width, regardless of breadth,
I would read as by the hours played,
And without a break, none would be left,
I would finish it that very day.
But now that I'm older,
So much has changed,
I can't find the passion, I can't find the motive...
Some years ago,
I would open a book,
Regardless of width, regardless of breadth,
I would read as by the hours played,
And without a break, none would be left,
I would finish it that very day.
But now that I'm older,
So much has changed,
I can't find the passion, I can't find the motive...
Read more and leave comments (3)
Friday 18th September 2009 2:15 pm
Plum
by Carol Falaki
I discovered the wild green plum
down the lane, where the horse's run
rolls the clay to a chocolate base,
Turning features on the face
of fertile wet earth dust
on her bulging bee-yeast crust,
and the creamy custard sky
tops a bramble plum-filled pie.
Here the spikey blackthorns reach
to the haw, to the oak, to the beech,
While their tarty indigo sloes
top the gentle-fruit of the ro...
down the lane, where the horse's run
rolls the clay to a chocolate base,
Turning features on the face
of fertile wet earth dust
on her bulging bee-yeast crust,
and the creamy custard sky
tops a bramble plum-filled pie.
Here the spikey blackthorns reach
to the haw, to the oak, to the beech,
While their tarty indigo sloes
top the gentle-fruit of the ro...
Read more and leave comments (7)
Friday 18th September 2009 8:59 am
Advice to Peter Andre on Marketing
by Mark Niel
Peter Andre is launching a fragrance
To get over his marital crisis
He doesn't know what to call it-
My suggestion is "Priceless".
To get over his marital crisis
He doesn't know what to call it-
My suggestion is "Priceless".
Read more and leave comments (5)
Thursday 17th September 2009 5:00 pm
The Chase
by Mike Anthony
I indulge in your aroma with it's soft subtle spice
An I savor your energy with my light off at nights
I admire your life and the way that you live with it
I cherish your time like I'm living my very last minute
I adore the moment your refraction catches my eyes
I appreciate your honesty when you tell your friends white lies
I delight in your posture as you listen with attention
I dote...
An I savor your energy with my light off at nights
I admire your life and the way that you live with it
I cherish your time like I'm living my very last minute
I adore the moment your refraction catches my eyes
I appreciate your honesty when you tell your friends white lies
I delight in your posture as you listen with attention
I dote...
Read more and leave comments (0)
Thursday 17th September 2009 10:25 am
Also by Mike Anthony:
To Touch | Beer Fairy | No Need for | Pen Pal |Scar Tissue
by Bucket
Sometimes there are voices
right inside my head
reminding me of mistakes I made
and things better left unsaid
The voices keep on calling me
right deep down in my soul
messages of taunting torture
starting to take their tole
They send me in the wrong direction
down a one way street
so clear to me that I can't help talking
to the ghosts there that I meet
when I was sixteen, sevent...
right inside my head
reminding me of mistakes I made
and things better left unsaid
The voices keep on calling me
right deep down in my soul
messages of taunting torture
starting to take their tole
They send me in the wrong direction
down a one way street
so clear to me that I can't help talking
to the ghosts there that I meet
when I was sixteen, sevent...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Wednesday 16th September 2009 4:09 pm
Also by Bucket:
How happy could we be? | Everyday Fairytale | Too Close To Home | Expectations | My Dr makes me sick | Cyril | Quick Love | (untitled) | (untitled) |EEK
by Spencer Robertshaw - 07703 558825
Eek
Eek, she made a squeak
Me, stunned
A little pink wrinkly, wriggly eek
Precious?, not even close
Feet touch the ground , no
Wrestle a Tiger , yes
Walk through a wall , easy
Hold this beautiful eek , terrified
Laugh ,cry, shout, jump, explode, together
Correct
A little eek, a little girl
I like eek it suits her....
Eek, she made a squeak
Me, stunned
A little pink wrinkly, wriggly eek
Precious?, not even close
Feet touch the ground , no
Wrestle a Tiger , yes
Walk through a wall , easy
Hold this beautiful eek , terrified
Laugh ,cry, shout, jump, explode, together
Correct
A little eek, a little girl
I like eek it suits her....
Read more and leave comments (4)
Wednesday 16th September 2009 12:31 pm
Also by Spencer Robertshaw - 07703 558825:
Childrens Hour | Soldiers End | DIRTY DANCING | Jack and Jill | Deep Waters | THE LIST | Detox |MUSE
by Mia Darlone
MUSE
Co- written with Mike Anthony. (Not about each other. Mike is keen that the man in the photo is credited for the loinal yearning, execution and emotional seepage during his act of genital frotage, that fuelled his input to the poem. I however would like to thank childhood rejection from 'soul singer' Montel Jordan in Harpurhey market, for wrecking my head and making me hear, think, talk and...
Co- written with Mike Anthony. (Not about each other. Mike is keen that the man in the photo is credited for the loinal yearning, execution and emotional seepage during his act of genital frotage, that fuelled his input to the poem. I however would like to thank childhood rejection from 'soul singer' Montel Jordan in Harpurhey market, for wrecking my head and making me hear, think, talk and...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Tuesday 15th September 2009 8:32 pm
Also by Mia Darlone:
Punanis, Peckers and Poems |Light bends
Light bends
Can you hear that rumbling?
Four in the morning and the boiler’s clearing its throat
Pipes tap-tapping, rapping on old joists
Laddered padding long since worn
Round metal that crosses buried crosses
Beneath well-weathered floorboards
Daylight’s been out all night
And now rattles round the window
Stretches itself around the curtains
A vampire victim of the night bus...
Can you hear that rumbling?
Four in the morning and the boiler’s clearing its throat
Pipes tap-tapping, rapping on old joists
Laddered padding long since worn
Round metal that crosses buried crosses
Beneath well-weathered floorboards
Daylight’s been out all night
And now rattles round the window
Stretches itself around the curtains
A vampire victim of the night bus...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Tuesday 15th September 2009 3:59 pm
untitled
by Lydia
early evening, early autumn glow
as mersey mist descends
bright as mid summer but fresh
21st century silhouettes
peaceful
like a new start
smoke rises on the water
21st century sounds
grumble
i'm no longer the rural riddle
and i don’t miss it… much
this is the new start
and looking out onto early evening
mersey...
as mersey mist descends
bright as mid summer but fresh
21st century silhouettes
peaceful
like a new start
smoke rises on the water
21st century sounds
grumble
i'm no longer the rural riddle
and i don’t miss it… much
this is the new start
and looking out onto early evening
mersey...
Read more and leave comments (4)
Sunday 13th September 2009 12:57 pm
Also by Lydia:
First Above All Else | Ideal | My Liverpool | Dad | Very Soon | The Alarm Rang | Nickelodeon Generation |No pankies
by Dave Bradley
We like each other
but our friendship
is a hanky-panky free zone
No hankies
and definitely no pankies
She's retaining her panties
We trust each other
and our friendship
is a lust-free zone
No lust
I'm not after her bust
We've got it sussed
My friend is great
And our friendship
Is a cherish-filled zone
She is lovely
But no more than cuddly
Making each other feel bubbly
We es...
but our friendship
is a hanky-panky free zone
No hankies
and definitely no pankies
She's retaining her panties
We trust each other
and our friendship
is a lust-free zone
No lust
I'm not after her bust
We've got it sussed
My friend is great
And our friendship
Is a cherish-filled zone
She is lovely
But no more than cuddly
Making each other feel bubbly
We es...
Read more and leave comments (4)
Friday 11th September 2009 4:55 pm
Also by Dave Bradley:
Why beach glass reminds me of Stan |Rollercoaster Mind
by Kenneth Hume
Writing just to find a way,
to make sense of the thoughts that sway
around my rollercoaster mind.
Fighting against the prey,
of doubt that just eat's away
and keeps me on rewind.
Writing while all the kids play
games on another sunny day.
But my rollercoaster mind,
keeps me on the fence today,
wondering just what to say
and I leave myself behind.
Writing while I'm upside down
helps me cop...
to make sense of the thoughts that sway
around my rollercoaster mind.
Fighting against the prey,
of doubt that just eat's away
and keeps me on rewind.
Writing while all the kids play
games on another sunny day.
But my rollercoaster mind,
keeps me on the fence today,
wondering just what to say
and I leave myself behind.
Writing while I'm upside down
helps me cop...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Friday 11th September 2009 3:37 pm
Patterns
Letters of alliteration littering my mind
Sounds of assonance go ouch upon my brow
Words go swimming upon a written line
End line rhyming: how but why not now?
Stressed out syllables stretch out across the page
Partial rhyming with no real meaning
Patterns emerge within the written word
Rules of language in poems can be bend
Rhyming couplets get there in the end
And now I hope to end...
Sounds of assonance go ouch upon my brow
Words go swimming upon a written line
End line rhyming: how but why not now?
Stressed out syllables stretch out across the page
Partial rhyming with no real meaning
Patterns emerge within the written word
Rules of language in poems can be bend
Rhyming couplets get there in the end
And now I hope to end...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Friday 11th September 2009 11:55 am
Lest we forget
by Cat P
Fighting fist
Palmed punch
Match lit
War struck
Helping hand
Friendly face
Wounded soldier
Fall from grace
Rules set
Now broken
Limbs lie
Shattered lives
Fighting talk
Vultures stalk
Memories fade
Mighty fall...
Palmed punch
Match lit
War struck
Helping hand
Friendly face
Wounded soldier
Fall from grace
Rules set
Now broken
Limbs lie
Shattered lives
Fighting talk
Vultures stalk
Memories fade
Mighty fall...
Read more and leave comments (1)
Thursday 10th September 2009 10:55 pm
Also by Cat P:
Limerick | Behind closed doors | That cough |Here is a playlist of my latest poems posted on YouTube...
Read more and leave comments (0)
Thursday 10th September 2009 8:23 pm
Attack of the heart
by Daniel Hooks
Attack of the heart
Some people think it’s great
Some people think its fine
To have a heart like mine
That makes me do what is right
So I always end up in a good light
they don’t know that sometimes its a curse
and it does nothing to fill my wallet
to buy ethical brands
don’t these people understand?
that when my heart attacks and r...
Some people think it’s great
Some people think its fine
To have a heart like mine
That makes me do what is right
So I always end up in a good light
they don’t know that sometimes its a curse
and it does nothing to fill my wallet
to buy ethical brands
don’t these people understand?
that when my heart attacks and r...
Read more and leave comments (0)
Thursday 10th September 2009 4:34 pm
Also by Daniel Hooks:
The Pretender | I am the fly in your ointment |Bent Heels (Previously 'Ring of Fire')
by Andy N
Title change, folks.. Had a good suggestion! lol
Cheers - AEN x
Her love
was like a
bent heel
on a shoe.
Her love
was like a
twisted rib
on a tree.
Her love
was like a dose
of petrol
on a lake
of blue water.
To her
it was
like a challenge
running naked
to the top
of Snowdon.
To her
it was
more than a dare
of who could
run the faster...
Cheers - AEN x
Her love
was like a
bent heel
on a shoe.
Her love
was like a
twisted rib
on a tree.
Her love
was like a dose
of petrol
on a lake
of blue water.
To her
it was
like a challenge
running naked
to the top
of Snowdon.
To her
it was
more than a dare
of who could
run the faster...
Read more and leave comments (5)
Thursday 10th September 2009 8:31 am
Re-union
Re-union
Fried garlic, lemon, sea-salt on the air,
Coffee brewing , sunlit room , morning, you, there.!
Black curls glistening, wet from ocean rush,
Fiery droplets your body spangle, as in naked hush
You go to the window, step slow and certain,
And across the blazing blue ,draw a bamboo curtain.
Shadows stripe and tiger us, to the narrow bed
We stalk, no sign giving of...
Fried garlic, lemon, sea-salt on the air,
Coffee brewing , sunlit room , morning, you, there.!
Black curls glistening, wet from ocean rush,
Fiery droplets your body spangle, as in naked hush
You go to the window, step slow and certain,
And across the blazing blue ,draw a bamboo curtain.
Shadows stripe and tiger us, to the narrow bed
We stalk, no sign giving of...
Read more and leave comments (2)
Wednesday 9th September 2009 2:45 pm
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