meshed together, look like crows’ mingling.
White sheets straggling washing lines, having a barney with futons; bent over balconies,
blowing in the wind, from the bellow of petrol station attendants;
who make rainbows on windscreens with their elbows, egging cars, in and out.
Thursday 31st December 2009 8:06 pm
New Year's Eve AND a blue moon!
Just in case it slipped your radar.
Happy New Year to You All.
Thursday 31st December 2009 6:15 pm
Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:Prelude to a Music Lesson | The Velvet Conversation | Star Songs | The Christmas Tree | Letter in a Drawer | A Wonderful Day |
by Brian Wood
Its not all
about the new and nothing about the old
all about a story that’s always been told.
There’s laughter and tears to be shed
works & champagne before any talk of bed.
about us and nothing about them
about the world is far to crazy to pen.
loss of loved ones who we held so dear
Thursday 31st December 2009 6:00 pm
by Ann Foxglove
to be wasp waisted
I linger by the lingerie
I need to get a negligee
pink fluffy slip-on ones
to go with my painted toes!
and seven push-up bras
underwired and lacy
one for every day of the week
and all quite racy!
a bucket load of perfume.
so we can drown together
and my cleavage!...
Thursday 31st December 2009 5:52 pm
Also by Ann Foxglove:My Nagual is a Narwhal | walking the coastal path with a pair of nail scissors | Apricot Man | HAPPY CHRISTMAS | solstice day | a different sort of person | mementoes | something\\'s lost | never look a Trojan gift horse in the mouth | 1 user on line | Sacred Well | the lost glove | my cat's audrey hepburn | on walking past our old house at christmas | my mum | Bereavement | The Hospital | Nightmare of the Dancing Cats |
I wish you all a Happy New Year and all the best for 2010!
Thursday 31st December 2009 5:30 pm
freed her from those golden bonds
of obligations and relationships
(the chilling question, and so carefully expressed
during the morning wash and powdering,
‘are we… related…?)
she’d carefully destroyed
all the photos of her family;
while leaving all her husband’s…
what did that mean, to that so loving daughter…?
What shames can tho...
Thursday 31st December 2009 2:36 pm
Also by michael shepherd:A Business Trip. A sonnet for Epiphany | Language -- it's all fingers and thumbs | When is a New Year ? A thought from Rochdale | The gifts | That photo of me on my blog | Three of them | Bereavement | A Carol Ann for a Duffy Christmas | For Kit, Justin, Leon, Crispin | barely-rhymed sonnet : Love and Law | ordinary |
an unrehearsed pantomime that I’m walking through,
clipped wet hedgerows, red berries broke,
squashed and scattered,
lost amongst the uncut verge,
the dogshit and the broken glass.
Three children scat down muddy slopes,
sodden wild clematis beards damply droop,
across our footpath and offer drips,...
Thursday 31st December 2009 2:34 pm
Also by Graham Sherwood:Twelfth Night | Nativity | Copse |
today the children wail stillthe black star liner did not take them backdid not take them all back homethe messages are profound in the musicthe honey drips from the sufferin...
Thursday 31st December 2009 2:12 pm
Also by jabulani mzinyathi:the insider | on my way | stench of arrogance | david livingstone[deadstone] | oil and water | that kiss | dim the light | your cooking | staying afloat | generation gap | giving birth | untitled thoughts | out of grim necessity |
by Dave Morgan
It’s all about the 40th lime
And how I should rub my head with coconut butter
And every person wasting £400 of food a year
And other big headline claims
And I say
“Is that £400 of food from Aldi or from M&S?”
Who cares, it’s all cow pies to Desperate Dan
And it’s phosphorous bombs and child witches
And it’s Helmand Prov...
Thursday 31st December 2009 2:02 pm
Also by Dave Morgan:The Staff Room Celebrates |
by Kealan Coady
Remembered - failed to forget
Followed - failed to lead
Watched in watchedness
Thursday 31st December 2009 12:56 pm
Also by Kealan Coady:View Of Stale Harbour. | Inside The Mind Of Adolf Hitler. | Accident on Tonight's Street. | Dialogue from a Tragedy | Biography of a Backward Man. |
well this place
well this we
for those we kiss
for those we miss
for those we love
Thursday 31st December 2009 12:00 am
Also by Tommy Carroll:The Pretenders | Ballad of Beelzebub | Rage Against The Machine | Christianity and other myths | The Love Making Of Hiawatha | Behind The Event | The shopping of Hiawatha. |
for my sins
at the gates of Hades
along with the other malcontents
walking wounded & living dead -
their death-mask pallor
like so many clammy moonlit
turning as one
to look over at me
with disinterested dead eyes
and expressionless faces
through the choking sulphurous fug
that passes for air down here,
murderously hot as ever,
- when the unspeakable horro...
Wednesday 30th December 2009 9:09 pm
Also by Banksy:UK plc | the other world | the nagual | blondie | I'll bring the coke | the whether man | the apple tree | kick-off | what a birthday |
by Rodney Wood
the Fairy Godmother's wand, her spells,
the pumpkin, rat, lizard, rags, Stepsisters,
Prince and newly released Disney DVD.
They'll all superfluous.
What Cinderella wants is gold
but in the Kingdom everything's silver -
the clouds that consciously weep,
the glow of herring and mackerel,
rails marking the limits of disorder,
abandoned dust, t...
Wednesday 30th December 2009 8:19 pm
Also by Rodney Wood:THE UNTHANKS (a Poem from the Westy number 21) | WEST POEM 20: THE BOB HALL SHOW |
and with red glasses cupping teeth,
I am a stranger -
photographed like a chimney mooring it's house with poison
steaming it's frames and running the charcoal down my spine.
These are my lines.
No fashion on a sleeve - I have worn it with plague,
smothering mad, and falling like a crippled ballerina's smile....
Wednesday 30th December 2009 5:53 pm
Also by Marianne Daniels:Lachrymose Nesting | Names | Bettie Paige in Snow | Violin | A Mass of Contradictions | Andromeda in Waiting | Mothers |
Round brown eyes
Following the every long shadow of day
Was never too far away
Tissue of lies
Sighs that numb the inner heart
So well remembered
Into her pillow
Wednesday 30th December 2009 5:06 pm
Also by Augusta Darling:The Edge Of Time | So Long Ago | A Wild English Rose | Hunter\\'s Moon | The Loveless |
and paper torn,
unfolding ruffles from tissue
wrapped around a velvet pouch.
a bed of woven silk
sewn in cotton threaded pearls
on which a silver sixpence lies
currency captured for all eternity.
on a carousel, spinning recollections
in the blink of an eye....
Wednesday 30th December 2009 12:39 pm
Get Flash to see this player.
…………..Sunray this is not a civilian,
And sunray this is my sitrep!
hardly contain my rage,
Could eat me a chinnook
All battered and hailed in bullets
No-one knows me,
No-one knows the camaraderie
Like the man you made.
be my epitaph,
A man I once knew still kills for lust
Wednesday 30th December 2009 2:42 am
studying the crystal depths
the question haunted me
‘Was this really an oasis?'
It was, for sure
bright, dazzling, enchanting
winking in the sun like cut glass
blinding in its reflection
Skin dried, parched, wasted
like a child, I had crawled
walked, run to it
basked in its waters
revelled in its showers
splashed, jumped, gambolled
thrown handfuls t...
Tuesday 29th December 2009 6:59 pm
Also by Isobel:WOLOP for November |
whose poems were not up to plan.
When asked why this was
he said, "it's because
I always try and fit too many words into the last line".
Tuesday 29th December 2009 6:02 pm
by Dave Bradley
coasting in neutral
some minds playing
over past events
others planning or praying
others listening, talking, phoning, moaning
some going low speed
enough to read
some plotting, some jotting
Sometimes the way clears
or a joke is cracked
there is movement, there is laughter
It can be amusing or just
to watch o...
Tuesday 29th December 2009 4:34 pm
Also by Dave Bradley:Huntington's Chorea | So sensual | Softer | Rules |
by Daniel Hooks
letters in postboxes to be delivered proof that i care
my poems i
publish on the web digital thoughts for people to stop and read i leave
paper trails, bank statements receipts of transactions for things i
need I am of course more than the sum of my parts but leaving trails is an art paper trails, thou...
Tuesday 29th December 2009 10:07 am
Tags: dan hooks poet poetry alienpoet,trails
Also by Daniel Hooks:The domino effect |
Wind whipping hair, sun shining down.
The trees a rustle in the autumn chill.
Yet still we climb, climb this hill.
Our laughter evades the pores of the earth.
Sinking deep into its burning heart.
A lark it darts, flying free and high
away from the shackles of fate.
Tell me, why cant we?
Horse harsh breath flies as the bag we carry fills with stones,
Tuesday 29th December 2009 2:41 am
As long that summer was
A secret that enthralled the girls
Captivating them because
Love was such a wonder then
When innocently viewed
That Emily and Laura-Jane
So eagerly pursued
“What news!” they cried “what news have you?”
Excitement filled within
Those promenading afternoons
Of gently browning skin
Of barefoot days and carefree ways
Monday 28th December 2009 11:46 pm
Also by Christopher Dawson:Expectation | Don't | hum ko hus nay ko acha lak tha hai |
Get Flash to see this player.
Mizzen masts sway
Open yer mind
Bare me yer soul
Together we'll find
The treasure I stole
Ready to sail
Wi' ghosts of the dead
We'll visit places
Both magic and strange
We shall meet faces
Unknown and deranged
What say ye mate?
Do we have an accord?
We're ready to sail
So jump ye aboard!...
Monday 28th December 2009 11:28 pm
A jolt to my tender ribs
A cough of angry and perseverance leave me
Leave me, alone in this frozen hell.
My friends all left when the weather turned.
Cowards, each and every one
But what’s done is done.
I’ll just call for a god in this hallow
But I’ll withstand this winter.
Call me the Evergreen.
Monday 28th December 2009 9:39 pm
Also by Ridge A. Dillard:Poetry Is... | The Love Poem | Free | Show Sympathy | Trapt | Lost through the grips of time | Kiss From A Rose | Light | My blood, my wine | The Faceless | Old Man | D, G, R | Perception |
THE DARK IS NIGHT....
THE SEA IS DEEP....
THE RIVER IS SHALLOW...
THE SKY IS FULL....
THE GROUND IS HOLLOW....
THE MOUNTAIN IS STEEP...
THE HILL IS MELLOW....
THE MOON IS GLOWING...
THE SUN IS DIMMING....
OUR VERY EXISTENCE IS JUST THE BEGINNING....
Monday 28th December 2009 6:34 pm
Also by JEFF.W:all about you..... | price of christmas.... | dust lust..... | recycling | silent but deadly | volcano.... |
DON’T MOCK FATE
When you think you have it all and you smile knowing you’re the king of your own little world, an empire of your own making made by you. You do something that separates you from this life of your own making and what you have – a house with a mortgage paid for by your job in the City, engaged to...
Monday 28th December 2009 4:41 pm
Also by nick armbrister:nice happy xmas poem for you lol:) | poem | a poem... | plane poem |
and nor is it politics
it is neither and both,
political and poetical
because poetry is pretty
whereas politics is not
but let's see where it takes us
and maybe we will end up
in a better place
not poorer but richer
for the experience of both
poems and polemics
are but the transport of ideas
whose media are words,
words of love, words of hate,
words hope, words of trust
Monday 28th December 2009 1:55 pm
by Dave Dunn
will 2010 bring what we ask for?
A peaceful future that all can share
with the wealthy showing that they care?
In my hopes as ever that would be the plan
for without compassion what distinguishes man?
We may have tools and brains to embrace
technologies to help the human race
But if those minds just persue all with greed
then we ignore those with more pressing ne...
Monday 28th December 2009 12:54 pm
Smooth and perfumed, polished clean.
Your eyes should travel down my back, flared like a cello at the hip.
Down the length, white and shining of my legs
To the shiny red heels.
See the contrast, white and soft, warm dimpled
And the shiny, brittle, violent, vinyl shine.
Ohh, that you would be the hard to my soft
Tense to my dimpled
Monday 28th December 2009 12:05 pm
Also by Rachel McGladdery:Little Clock | Stockings | Sunrise Over England | Where the Wind Sweeps Down To The Sea |
by Cayn White
PHOENIX RADIO - PUNK IS THE BEST COMPILATION
Phoenix Radio - what a gift to us lucky punkers it is too. Well, one show in particular! Punk a...
Sunday 27th December 2009 1:28 pm
Also by Cayn White:My First Christmas Poem | A Random Poem Inspired by the Bickering of Poets | Gigs, Court and More Gigs |
Intuition followed by rightful actions
Escape from the grasped clutches of guilt and resentment,
Replaced by optimism and courage!
Loud and proud speech with a conscience,
Not listening to cynics who capture it!
Upmost best of your ability- not under scrutiny
To explain your declaration of independence in the face of adversity!
Break open the shackles- soaring se...
Sunday 27th December 2009 1:22 pm
Also by DKlastro~*:Daily Grind of Commuting 24/11/09 |
follow the stampede
of the craze
of the holidays.
Rain drops as tears
down onto pavement
as the stampede
continues to gather
and spend their generosity.
In all the midst
of the holiday spirits,
they never look down.
They never stop to see.
Here they go again,
frantic to buy
for those they love,
but what about me?
When they go,
all I w...
Sunday 27th December 2009 12:48 am
the truth - they had to bend it;
they tore out the heart of integrity’s soul
now who will come to mend it?
Attackers came forth from the land of the sand
with a plot that the West vowed to foil.
They went to off war in freedom’s name
but the sand was not free from the oil.
The men in the suits in the sleek Cadillacs
looked out to the men...
Saturday 26th December 2009 7:20 pm
Also by Barrie Singleton:WHAT FOR | FALL OUT |
Tears fall against the itchy redness of my face. A customary reaction, expression of my uncontrollable emotion. The death of me? He probably will be, cause for us both to exist in this is close to nil. Like having double Spider men, only one wins.
So once again, the contents of my torso bounce on trampolines and force me to present my breakfast for the second time, an...
Thursday 24th December 2009 10:01 am
that is not of pain.
Built of life and built.
Not of earth
but of heaven
a shape of creation
with spirit rubies
and other precious stones.
I cant explain
but I try to understand.
It is called .....righteousness.
Tuesday 22nd December 2009 10:03 pm
From the things I've done to you
Now your dead arm swings loose
And your bruised eye won't open
These things I've done to you
An evening among friends, descends
Now we're alone
Now you start on me again
Buttons all pushed, again
You try to stand your ground
But I'll always shout louder
Surely safer to just settle down?...
Tuesday 22nd December 2009 2:18 pm
Also by Tom:Sewing It Together | Sailing on Firewater | Then Give Back | One of These Years | Raining In Darlington | An Actor Writes From His Dressing Room... | Lay Down Your Guard | Your Poem Is Still Young |
in a dark and creaking house
I’m sure I heard something,
stirring inside sure not out
and I’m staring straight ahead
I’m trying hard to hear
that sound I heard just now
the one that made me scared
In a dark and eerie house
every sound is amplified
was that another sound
or was it just a little creak?
No, I’m sure I heard it then
again, it’s c...
Monday 21st December 2009 8:51 pm
In a bed-sit Santa irons red suits alone •
But I hear tom-cats screech in your back •yard
And Santa’s smile conceals an inward groan.
For while you wrap bright parcels,show good cheer,
Weave plans to please the young and innocent,
Under lock and key you store a secret tear,
And out of bottles ,pour your merriment.
Monday 21st December 2009 11:09 am
Monday 21st December 2009 7:52 am
melt and go,
so the stapled cardboard box locks,
as too the thumbs push further in
a thumbnail clicks.
Remember the time your thumbnail clicked
as cardboard panels stood their ground
the time you had that panic attack
nail bent back
just think: thumbnail bent right back. Snap!
It left a curved white line across
a keratin shell over soft blood an...
Sunday 20th December 2009 5:19 pm
Sunday 20th December 2009 3:17 pm
creating the statues that their information showed
were absolutely necessary for their future.
In the 19th century Easter Islanders realised
that statues were a useless waste of effort
and put all their energy into the obvious need
to worship the birdman.
In he 20th century the stupidity of the Easter Islanders
Friday 18th December 2009 11:14 pm
Tags: any old crap,belief,climate,copenhagen
Also by Malpoet:In Poetry | Harry | Tiger in the Dark Woods |
“Ey up owd lad, tha does look glum!” Peter said one day, (he’d spent a while up north near Leeds, that’s why he spoke that way.)
“What’s to do? Tha’s sittin there wi a face like milkman’s hoss. I’ve nivver seed thee look that way, whatever ails thee boss?”
His boss looked up, all ashen faced, a pallor on his skin, and whispered “Pete, I’ve had e...
Friday 18th December 2009 7:35 pm
Chipped china cup half washed up
Rests in her hands
Forty a day smoker stains
Tepid tea sloshes down the drain
Sodden biscuit crumb remains
Glistening like fools’ gold
She never dreamt she’d be this old
And to have to start again
Without her man
Wedding vows aren’t worth a damn
I do’s give way to the big I am
Voices raised, front doors slammed
Friday 18th December 2009 5:46 pm
How lucky I am to have my voice
With all its possibilities
I give it charm I make it sing
I can denote hostilities
How lucky am I to have a choice
To take this voice most everywhere
To express meaning, give voice feelings
Show my leaning when I dare
How lucky indeed to sow a note
And reap a song, when nature inspires
And good things conspire
The feeling’s strong
Friday 18th December 2009 9:55 am
Get Flash to see this player.
With wires from our ears
So we don’t have to listen
To other people’s noise
Now every man’s an island
And everyone’s divine
Cos we can disassociate ourselves
And live in Dreamtime
This isn’t really happening
We can block reality
Put your plugs in your lugs
And live in MTV
And if th...
Thursday 17th December 2009 8:12 pm
by John Coopey
As we crunched through snow together
In inclement Arctic weather,
I brought to mind an Old Icelandic song;
There’s a saga of the Viking
You need to heed when hiking
That “Pissing in His Boots -
Keeps No Man Warm for Long”.
Already you’ll be gleaning
A second, deeper, meaning
That short-term paths will, long-term, turn out wrong
Thursday 17th December 2009 3:55 pm
by John Aikman
I joke as we approach.
We calculate the etiquette,
Of rewarding each wrong note,
I crack, and throw some shrapnel in his case.
The music stops, he lifts his face.
One useless eye,
Poking like a sea scarred stone on ravaged beach,
But ears that figure in a flash,
The sound of seventeen pence,
Wednesday 16th December 2009 4:17 pm
Also by John Aikman:She Put the \\'Tog\\' in Together |
by Greg Freeman
Old, fat, and ugly, it won’t be caught
I glimpsed it once, on the end of my hook;
Thought I had it, saw its cruel, fierce eyes
The fishing isn’t good in the lake.
The big old one has eaten almost all the others.
People still come to try and catch it
Maybe if the lake dries up
It will be found there at the bottom...
Tuesday 15th December 2009 9:46 am
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