Your prickliness is amusing. Grow a pair.
Calm your tits. Thrilled to bits,
I smile a smile.
Then I smile some more.
Wednesday 5th August 2015 10:07 am
been away too long
missing the sound
of breaking waves
and seagull songs
the curving coast
high tide smiling
undying gifts of love
touch of skin on stone
winter sand in shoes
over new footbridge
under old clouds
following in footsteps
taken as a child
knowing every inch
from hill to shiny sea
park and playground
eyeing blue horizons
Wednesday 5th August 2015 9:22 am
Also by Colsibabes:I'm here | Old Mother Hubbard | Lowku Supper | therapy | The Lowku Arena | boxes | headshot | paperlust |
A New Love Story
I had stopped at the rural cafe for a coffee it was a day when I was
not feeling a day over seventy she was around fifty and incredible
young her waste was that of a waif at the beginning of life.
She was so beautiful and she smiled inviting me to sit by her table
and I was only drinking coffee. I told her amusing stories of my life,
mostly lies- and she laughed...
Wednesday 5th August 2015 8:50 am
Also by jan oskar hansen :the bus trip | a reflective moment | not a writing day | not a writing day | end of democracy | forgotten lives |
In a cell far from the gate
And outer worlds beyond
He’d spend his time instead of wait
Thinking of those he’d wronged
And for it all had no regret
So sought no conscience clear
Far better to recoup their debt
Than be enslaved to fear
Not doing time
When vengeance done
And tormented rested
What might be the prize?
To lay a...
Wednesday 5th August 2015 7:17 am
Also by David Moore:Who only England know | Mill House Cottage | Moon washed | Temper tongue | Slabs |
~~Do you need me?
My head is getting heavier
With every second you’re gone
Still feel your goodbye kiss
It’s printed on my lips
How can I be sure?
You haven’t left me for her
Losing sight of you
Starting to feel a little blue
You say you’re too busy
Yet for them you seem free
All I want is to know you
Tell me how you feel
They’re telling me to give up
That you don’t deserve ...
Tuesday 4th August 2015 6:22 pm
Also by The Dumb Genius:She doesn't see | All she wanted | Ready to fight | I have found a place |
She’s the one we could rely on
when things were sorely scarce,
to always find a way to get by
when it went from bad to worse.
She’s the one true matriarch,
the gel at the center of all,
never too far away from us;
never more than a call.
Sacrificing all she had,
for us, her flesh and blood,
always standing second place
to the family’s common good.
Tuesday 4th August 2015 4:10 pm
Also by THE PEN AND THE PAGE:OH ENGLAND |
Broken S.A.D light
Put to use
Tuesday 4th August 2015 1:00 pm
Also by Stu Buck:£1 | pang | Arlo #1 + #2 |
An early summer sky
peppered with clouds,
like the art of calligraphy
revealing an opening chapter.
And me, transformed
by the warmth on my face
illuminating my skin,
breathing fire into my bones.
Transporting me far from winter
gone, into a season sent to
recover me from darkness,
and guide me to the light
that I once knew.
Tuesday 4th August 2015 12:04 pm
Also by Helen:A Lover's Touch |
he eats an orange
ache of summer
the pitted reflection
of the kitchen window
parts like skin
along the edge
of his knife
Monday 3rd August 2015 10:46 pm
Home from home motorhome
Eric has cashed in his assets
greedy for tea rooms vistas
dawns and sunsets in shorts
(we're bloody good sports)
stick like glue in our pod on the move
in the groove
going north west south east
as we please it's like a disease!
no sooner a sneeze than we make the decision.
Home from home motorhome
motorway strip searche...
Monday 3rd August 2015 10:36 pm
Also by ray pool:CLIPPIE |
Should I knock
On the door
With my fist
Should I Rat
A tat tat
With my list
Should I pause
Do I want
I’m not sure
I should go now
I’m quite sure
Unclench my fist
And let this door
That will not
Monday 3rd August 2015 8:47 pm
Coming apart like stitches
Memories break off
As you grow older
Dissolving into skeletons
Drained of fact.
Into stark instrumentals
The first girl you kissed
With Helen, the second.
Diminishing the 8 years
Working at Great Universal
Your first job
When then you wondered
If it would ever end.
Padlocked in broken gasps
All the way out
Monday 3rd August 2015 12:57 pm
(Fed up with the barrage of bad news, disruption and violence)
A grassy knoll,
a trout stream close
should I care to look,
carpet my feet,
new born lambs
squabble at the teat,
ewes stare blankly
and amble by
like fallen clouds
from the azure sky,
the gold of rape
dark green oak
ash in bloom
time for a soak,...
Monday 3rd August 2015 11:44 am
When I of solitude's measure drink
And of your precious person think,
I wish my lonely loving cup
Was with your own sweet self filled up.
But hearts' desires with passion sought
Are always better won than bought
So I consent to be content
With consolations I am sent.
I live this life with you in mind
And from your treasured image find
Sweet solace for an emp...
Monday 3rd August 2015 2:19 am
Not the TV host with a brazen giggle
Winding up the gormless on ‘Blind Date’
Or tugging tears on ‘Surprise Surprise’
Nor the glittering star, clutching champagne
In morose interviews after Bobby’s death
Her grief bubbling up
Pressing behind aching eyes
But the fragile, stick thin girl
Trembling on stage
Warmed only by a single
And cruel spotlight
Picking out every contour
Sunday 2nd August 2015 10:19 pm
Tags: Cilla Black.,David Subacchi.Welsh Poetry,Liverpool poetry
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I'm amused by a number of friends who delight in ridiculing Christianity. Certainly they question the veracity of other religions but ridicule is reserved for Christianilty.
And when I ask myself, “Why?” I reach the conclusion that it's because it's easy; it’s a cheap shot.
Christianity has its zealots, of course, and its wisdom is often questionable but it doesn’t indulge in the types...
Sunday 2nd August 2015 9:05 pm
Our Cilla (your Cilla) is dead!
For Gods sake what is
this world coming to?
A dead Cilla is no Cilla at all.
Jesus Christ Almighty. Amen.
words and foto Tommy Carroll
Sunday 2nd August 2015 8:40 pm
Engage in preamble,
And ramble a bit until you see fit to begin.
Draw deep, close your eyes to speak.
Begin with thin withered lines,
Telling tales of times when life was worth living.
Don’t shuffle into nostalgia.
Still, throw in that line that tells how you used to be a free spirt,
Not a bogged down middle aged git
Unfit to wield a mic and talk like this,
Sunday 2nd August 2015 7:02 pm
Also by dazzer:Late Meetings |
Elijah - the Lord of storms,
Dew, hail, rain and thunder,
Today rides a chariot.
The Prophet with an effort
Breathe the autumn.
The days are shorter
The nights are longer
Warm days linger.
Two hours Elijah has taken.
By August He was awaken.
Water becomes overgrown
In the lakes and local ponds.
Our Lord agrees and nods,
Summer has no more odds,
It can't argue with Gods
Sunday 2nd August 2015 5:52 pm
Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:Elijah The Prophet |
I slipped out of
Digged in her heels
Ripped the heart out of my life
“Can you spare a cigarette please?”
I slipped onto this park bench
When Cameron rode into town
Guns a blazing
“I’m taking the poor down “
“Spare 50p for a can”
Spare a thought
For those ...
Born, growing, hoping
This is a fair world
Sunday 2nd August 2015 5:10 pm
Speaking of form and function. Helen, on here,
recently made a very respectable attempt at a
`modern` version of the Sestina.
It caused me to look at Ezra Pound`s version of
the form for comparison. (this is it below).
A sestina is basically six stanzas of six lines each
Sunday 2nd August 2015 2:46 pm
Upon the Winds of Change
Upon the winds of change our courses flew
And us across the heaving seas did send.
It mattered not what dreams each would pursue
For Fate decreed what we could not portend:
That once again our raging hearts should blend
In Youth’s enduring spirit which does flow
Between us still, steel bond of lustful f...
Sunday 2nd August 2015 1:20 pm
a magazine filled with glasnost bullets;
a body drawn in dots.
a truth cut deeper and harder
stillness painted in red and black.
placidity before pain
lucidity in the rain
washing away ten thousand drops of me
all bearing my name
none bearing my face.
Saturday 1st August 2015 5:26 pm
Tags: wash away noir dames black and red jack and queen
I've spent sometime
Whose goods should rhyme -
Whose plastic shots
Are sorted by
Well, now robots -
Before ‘twas folks:
(C) David Franks 2003; from -
Saturday 1st August 2015 3:58 pm
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Two aging northern fellows met one Tuesday afternoon
At a quiet coffee house in Pontefract,
And while dunking their biscotti in their macchiato froth,
Both decided that they’d make a sporting pact.
For they wanted to revive “pig-hopping” as a local game,
One of many Yorkshire pastimes full of charm,
Where competitors retracted either foot in headlong race
With a pig tucked fir...
Saturday 1st August 2015 12:07 pm
I still remember the meagre collection
- shirley bassey tihuana brass neil diamond's greatest hits -
and a couple of 45s
- one of which - tommy steele's confession - we never played -
but we would stack the rest
and dance until they dropped
- then dance some more
flared trousers swinging
- the green patterned pile carpet -
and my sisters osmond lp
later I asked my mother
what she did in the sixties
and where ...
Saturday 1st August 2015 1:30 am
I found out yesterday that all this time
I've wasted my focus on things I am not
For I am a poet however unorthodox and unsound
I am a poet, whether I want it or not
So yesterday I began to write
My words in short phrases and lines
I ignored punctuation and laughed at rhymes
I made a point to trust my mind
Now I know, bad poet or not,
A poet I am for better or...
Saturday 1st August 2015 12:01 am
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