Sunday Morning Love

My legs are still unsteady.
Sticky and shaking.
My body heavy and relaxed.
The sheets are a tangled mess
and so is my hair.
But I don’t have one care.
My To Do list forgotten.
As I lay here catching my breath.
A smile plastered across my lips
and your taste on my tongue.

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Also by R Miller:

xx |

The Launch

entry picture

Found the chords, the riffs are born,
got a front, an axe, a bass, some beats.
The song is written, the group is formed,
what name should the vessel take to the streets?

A mother?  A lover? Seek out a legend?
Symbolic?  Insane? Cast off the vote.
No taking the sis!  Impress my girl-friend
anchor success with a name like a boat.

Think of book; of a pub, of a film script;
see the soft s...

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Tags: bands,boat,launch,naming,rock

Cardboard Protest

You’ve peeled off

the label


Want to stick

It on me


Reduced, damaged

Used goods

With no



Label edges


Barcode won’t






The repeated


Of your nob

On the


Of porn


You won’t

Shut the


On this




You've put

Me In 



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Also by Lynn Hamilton:

Fragile |

You're not right in the head if you think I want to fit in

No offence I have my reasons

Blooming moody poetry

I got 5 out of 10 for performing in Didsbury the crowd loved it

F the haters they may dislike my face but at least I dispise them aswell

Mmm money lovers should remember not everyone's had a sheltered childhood soz

I've said too much its never enough

You make me feel l...

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word letting


sometimes the words escape outside

released like prisoners from their jail

sometimes the words stay locked inside

all my useless pleas ignored and failed

sometimes the words fall in slanted rain

running tear stained ink across my page

sometimes the words are mostly pain

bloodletting hurt in a sudden rage

sometimes the words speak for themselves

they don’t even bothe...

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Also by Colsibabes:

Southern BBQ Sauce | perpetual desk calendar |

Dumb Destiny

I cannot speak to you anymore.

Though over these clay hearted years,

we never really spoke at all.


So now it finally must end

as I am taken once again

by collared, artistic agenda.


I cut languid love loose

re-tie dumb, devoted knots

that only he will now render.


Forbidden of fruitful verse

which may wistfully introduce

play on words of mourning.


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Tags: Katypoetess,love,love poetry

sequels to helena (10/04/2015)

the day the night went moonless,
a chorus cried out,
bleary eyed and tuneless,
us in our long shadowed innocence
never stood a god damn chance.

sticky lipped like vampires,
spinning drunk on changing tides,
bleary red chills: goosebump dances
(brushed with death to breathe alive)
yellow leaves in hearse rides.

Painting theromin by numbers,
feeling-hearing split and folded,
a snicker sn...

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Tags: if you're bound and you're gagged bleeding and bru


The following is a personal view.

To my mind, producing poetry can be like the art of cuisine.

Content of poetry (like food) can be varied - to be entertaining, pleasing, able to stimulate

interest and debate beyond the reach of safe and sacrosanct expectations.  Sassoon and

Owen used content powerfully and it survived the forms they used to reach the public

palate.  Not always easy...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


Fishing with words

A word used to draw the eye

So hated so despised

Lured you in not ever asking why

Better judgement compromised


Like a car crash

You had to look

Then with immediate regret

Backed out full pelt and wiped your mind

Hoping to forget


It offended

With gratuitous intent


In any way well meant


So using words much more benign 

A softer read...

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Tags: Language

Also by David Moore:

October | The other kind | Paedophile |

If only, if only, if only.

Don’t gaze at her with envy

she might sparkle outwardly

while inwardly she dies a little

each and every day.

She blames anything and anyone

for her sad existence

for her sad circumstances

for the sad memories

for the anguish she suffers

her tormented waking hours

her lack of restful sleep.

Her words are uttered in complaint

every movement a struggle

driven by...

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Also by Huw Thomas:

fake. |


Grandpa was a jolly old man,

With rheumatics in his knees, 

When we were small, though he was kind,

With us he always liked to tease.


We had to be very careful when,

He gave us some pocket money,

He would heat the coins up with his lighter,

(He seemed to find this awfully funny).


As we howled and clutched at blistered fingers,

Grandpa would cackle insane,


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Also by Ledger de la Bald:

A Viking Non-Saga | Sweet Nellie Dean |


Loading the player…

entry picture

(My own personal humiliation from schooldays. As it happens, green and gold were our school colours and a try was worth 3 points then.  A re-post with a nod to Pam Ayres)


I’d made the team – my dad he was so proud

He didn’t know the rules but cheered out loud

Though I was only 12 years old

I’d made the shirt of green and gold

But then the plan began to fold



I r...

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My blood is kept in a capsule in which she carries
She uncorks the top and it dribbles into the ground
Sinking below me, in the roots I stand over
And it devours me like quicksand as well her screams

My body is cold.

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Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty

She looks at me with those mesmerizing eyes
And tells me, "Love, this is goodbye."
Her sweet lips draws up a smile and she blows me a kiss
Whispering, "I love you and I'll see you in a bit."
She close her eyes and rest her soul
Her love is all that I want to know
Her breathing, steady and quiet
Her body, soundly asleep
Therefore, I quietly kiss her on the cheek
And sile...

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Also by Smash Lee:

The Lover's Plight | Crush | The Lover's Truth | Sliver of the Moon | The Hurricane |


Noggin the nog

and muffin the mule

will ...... you .......

... .. ....... ... drool?



words and foto Tommy Carroll

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

One hour poem |

If we

If we had made it

Beyond the fleeting few days

Like a lightly scented cool breeze

Initial euphoria, strong like whiskey

Down a gullet used to wine

Pale rose,

Where we breathed in love

Lost in clouds, white and serene

Like your brown brow, uncreased and smooth

If we had made it beyond those days

We would have broken up by now

And have been breaking in

New faces.


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‘How does he do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Stay so god damn thin’

‘Maybe he works out’

‘No way. He’s scrawny

I don’t know where he puts it’


The thin man paid in cash


The thin man

His green car

Reggae on the radio


Is this love

Is this love

Is this love

Is this love

That I’m feeling?


He returns from the shop

The thin man

Carrying a bag


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Tags: edit of a poem from a while back. something in the

Also by Stu Buck:

Luke 10:25 |


A time, I knew death; and birth.
With belief I will be
an Autumn leaf
looking for Spring.

Winter is not the season
for foolish gravediggers
who await the journey to warmth.


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Poem 17 of 230:  THROUGH WHAT WAS

During Europe’s summer, ‘88,
    At a wall my bag was checked:
A brief smile at what gave it weight...
    Sun-cream lid back - mood not wrecked.
I walked past plain buildings and cars,
    And entered a small food-store.
Its goods were plain, also: no sweet bars;
    The essentials - not much more.
As I bought crispbread with money changed,
    A row be...

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The Ghost That Flitters

The ghost that flitters through your night

may be fully alive in another’s  sight,

for the dimensions where they appear as a wisp

may not be the same as that where they’re kissed…


Imagine if your mind is ready for this notion yet

that the ghosts you see are not dead for I bet,

what you see is merely a slim projection from

another dimension of this world where they bel...

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Tags: fantasy,fear,ghosts

Numb Too

Certain situations you become numb too

Just certain things ain’t what it use too

My language is disguise it what it said too

Even though my heart is against you

Left for dead made for two

Living life not youth too

Forgiving past that aren’t truthful

Giving life to people who use you

Is this what it’s about?

I can’t give a concern

Yearning for idealism in realism


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9 to 5 hell.

On the surface, I look calm and steady,
But inside it feels that I'm not at all ready,
These expectations of being someone that they have from me,
Are not my aspirations, its not who I ought to be.

Do what you love, it's what they once said,
But then you job coz you need to get paid,
I killed the child inside me a long time ago,
Creativity at it's finest is what I craved for.

Then came...

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Looking something in the mirror of life
I found  a image so aright
Was it eternal ,or a ephemeral, I had seen
A hope it was ,that has kept me alive  

Endeavouring a new chapter of courage 
Aiming right at the euphoric  season 
Happiness and prosperity at my door
Looking for the vivacious voyage 

Quietness showed a new meaning then
Words became silent in there sleeves
Action was a new...

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Canyon Bates


Life is complicated, but would

be so simple if all we had to do

was put a coin in, twist a knob,

then expect a result.

Life is complicated, but I know

that if I make the right moves,

I can expect a crinkly bag of goods,

something small to help me through.

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To hide a bloodstined hand

"To hide a wood
Plant it in a forest
One could! "
Practise that
Is what we should
To save our neck
When different courses
Time and history take.

Unless a circular we pass
For a handshake with us
How else and where else
Could we hide
Our blood stained hand!// 

To make a living citizens have to work but despots and their henchmen contravening the aforementioned right coerce them to fo...

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Tags: despots,henchmen,right violation,Tyrrany

Also by Alem Hailu G/Kristos:

What shall I be ? |

The Ballad Of The Fruit Bowl

The speckled ripe banana lay alone inside the bowl,

And worried 'bout the consequence for his immortal soul,

Because he'd sung his friend, the pear, an optimistic ballad

Two minutes 'fore she was chopped up as part of a fruit salad.

He wondered if he'd let her down, because in him she'd trusted;

Oblivious to his own fate, as he was doused in custard.

And so we learn that optimism...

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I Walk Out of My Door and It is Here.

entry picture

The time has come when my sweaters don't seem so strange.

I appreciate this time greatly. 

My littlelest boy in his tiny, long-sleeved frog pajamas. 

My littlelest girl in her plaid and sweatshirt. 

In my mind that song plays over and over.

The leaves fall in the sound. 

My happiness returns with the colder weather. 

My anticipation of excitement expounds.

They in their war...

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Tags: autumn,fall,sweaters


One man's in, another drinking

sharing a recent story


thousandth hand across the land

such is the speed of news we share


 another molecule of bonding

the drinking opening up the scene


into the time they have to spare

give us this day our daily bread


before the rising yeast goes slack

another way to move the human spirit on.



Just out of si...

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Wandering, aimless, blameless but blind
Searching for something you’ll never find
A wanderer, a squanderer of time...
A nomad, placeless, faceless,
Just like the rest. Eyes firmly set
On what you can get from today.
Ignoring the voices in your head
Carping, “What about tomorrow?”
Harping, “Consider the past.”
Is it the end? Has the dice been cast?
Seeing the world t...

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Tags: Poetry.

An Evolution of Attitude

An Evolution of Attitude


     Mistakes are common,

They can make you strong

In realisation,

     But it takes dignity

And courage to admit when wrong,

     When philosophies and norms

Are backed by authority

Truth becomes only a whisper

That disturbs, for many

Want believe without question,

And it’s long in the day we have

Followed antiquated conventions.


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