Morning's Moon

I try to understand but do not know

what science explains: physics

or optics or geometrics or plain old



Moon’s crescent bowl holds pure

white milk, defeating gravity’s pull

that levels water, that lets me

understand emotional truth of balance.


I wonder how the sun can pasteurize

the moon since I can’t see the su...

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Tags: morning,science,sky

Also by Tim Wright:

Work Day's End |


entry picture



There was a great ditch

And an avenue of trees

Leading directly

From the busy town

To the cemetery’s silence

Ornate gates sick with rust

Relics of grander times

When they marked the way

To ancient Plascrug

Back and forth we jumped

Across the weed choked water


There was a Scout Hut

Near a playground

A row of park benches

Where we s...

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Tags: Aberystwyth,David Subacchi,Liverpool Poets,poetry,Welsh Poets



How cold and lonely

these silent nights

stretching endlessly as the moon

shies away, in the inky sky

losing its lustre 

engulfing shadows which emerge

from the lonely street lamp

flickering, dimly lit 

as I sit on the cold stone bench

under trees that will flower in the sun

the breeze catching my sigh

my breath in knotted gasps

stifled, till I want t...

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Also by Preeti:

Poetry | Tell me | Memories | You will be missed! | Perfect Perfection | Bitter fruit | Angels to watch over me | Bitter till the end |

A friend of a friend of a friend

After our morning paddle

and a thumbs up from Alfie

we played with cut-out paper dolls.

This is what makes me very British,

me too,

bah humbug!

it’s only taken two years.


© Graham Sherwood 11/2014

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Also by Graham Sherwood:

Koan on Water | Ice and Dust | Pals (remembered) | Far South One2Five |


Ragged flags of steam astir
atop the flats and office blocks,
and sudden flurries chased about
like edgy Lilliputian flocks.

Heat, by turns, a luxury
of ever-escalating cost,
and underfoot and overall
a fractal bloom of numbing frost.

Blanket upon blanket drawn
to necks in sanctuary beds,
and penetrating cold reducing
layers to so many shreds.

Breathy slumbers whiten blackened

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The Dream

entry picture

The following is a dream. In a small way I hope the ending comes true



My Mother, Sister, Brother and I check into a hotel room.

When we enter the room my Dad who passed away

almost five years ago is sitting on the bed.


We ask, "Daddy why are you here?" He says "I wanted to

see my family." We are overcome with emotion and hug

him. We are all talking at once.


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Tags: Dream,Family,Father


entry picture

Sky dancers

en masse.


naturally choregraphed


of charcoal'd participants

as one

before fracturing

into thousands.



raining down.

Leaving behind

the death of twilight.


Filling trees

with chatter


merging into 

the singularity

of blackness.


It is in car parks,

shopping centres


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Also by Patricia and Stefan Wilde:

head the ball | little man BIG! | where ARE those zzzzzzzzzz's !!?? | War?-UGH!-YEAH!-what IS it good for?-absolutely fuckall! | Out of nowhere | Rock | Mr.Bond-can I borrow your license? | Truly not Julie | Reconciliation | Raining in the changes | Poor payback for a soul soldier |

Last Orders

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Last Orders

I come on Thursday, sit on wooden chair
where poets congregate in strange half light,
sharing their thoughts with those who gather there -
the words are spoken, soaring, shining bright,
warming us as we leave to face the night.
The bear pit darkens, but forever hosts
the rhyming, raging, ranting, Tudor ghosts.

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Tags: ballade royal form,closure,poetry night,tribute,tudor house,wigan,WOL wigan

Also by Ian Whiteley:

A Tree In The Elephant's Graveyard | Philae Shakes The Hand Of God | Wounded | An Unexpected Ghost In The Yorkshire Post |

Textures of shame

entry picture

Glass sides tip away the hope of perception and cameras flash away any hint of reflection
at this hub of metal minds and stiff bodies.

I look on through a levitating window, clearing as the air gets warm.
This soft grey raven digs for existence among the steel nest of discardment.
Every sip a taste of us, our residue his everything.

Around me, gold fingered bird-watchers with their fogged...

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Tags: guilt,homeless,separation,shame,society,status,stigma

Also by Fae:

Bedtime |

Poem: Intellectual Postulations

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Sadly, there are many intellectual postulations
that are well meaning, but fatally flawed.
One can only end up with an unholy mixture from…
combining Man’s religious views with God’s Law.

Beyond the constraints of the mental realm,
the human template of thought cannot contain God.
Yet after more than two thousand years of Church,
lessons are still not learned; so it’s not odd…


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Tags: breunig,christian poetry,faith,Intellectual Postulations,poetry

Also by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd:

Poem: These Earthly Things | Poem: Vastness of the Kingdom | Poem: Oasis | Poem: Chaff Removal | Poem: The Full Beauty of Thee | Poem: And God Spoke! | Poem: Embryonic Ideal |


Home, when I repair
The day's drudgery
Rolled over
Daddy has come!"
When my children cheer
Banging the door,
Bathed with smiles
When my wife,
A pillar of my life,
A kiss on me confer,
And also
When we say a prayer
Sitting for dinner,
Revamped I turn
For a drudgery in store!

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Tags: A true wife is a gift from God as says the bible

Also by Alem Hailu G/Kristos:

The survival of the slickest | Teacher | Quite strange | Back to square one | A balm | The incident I never forget | Lacerating is the pain | Love | Dust | Have you visited your brother in need ? | Lovely |


just enough

for 10 benson

and a scratchcard


my lucky stars


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Also by s black:

every man and his dog |

Beyond the Sub-conscious

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His fingers waken running through her hair
Only pulling back when she opens her eyes
Blinkered by the yellow sunset like flowers
Dropping consciously across the windowsill
Dangling on like fingers on a balcony
Tied up in invisible chains across derelict moods
Journeying beyond invisible emotions
Streaming conscious all over the place
Like totally mis-matched kissing
Beyond the sub-conscio...

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My Inner Child II

My inner child

Is like sunshine

She loves attention.


She loves it when

You do well

She has faith.


My inner child

Is confident

Is giving

Is kind

Is gentle.


She tries to be open

She tries to encourage

She doesn’t want to

Do you down.


Because then you

Might feel lonely, forgotten about



She says

She knows yo...

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Also by Natfastic:

My Inner Child | Trying | The Cathedral | All of Nature's Offerings | Laughter | I Have a Choice | Tentacles | Eating Elephants Whole with Chopsticks |


 Jesuitta, God’s only daughter.

God only had a daughter Jesuitta, which he gave to mankind

to teach us love. She was a good little girl with blond curly hair

and often helped her mother with the washing up and other

household chores. As she grew up and came a shapely young

woman she was coveted by men, who could not grasp her

preaching of unconditional love was not about sex, ...

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Also by jan oskar hansen :

Jesus and other Levantine | History Lesson | a note for you | tanka | love affair | the man who sold his soul | the erudite and the bible | Batteri | Batteri | Tamco | the illegitimate child | let down | poetry by numbers | tanko | tanko | big waves | mountains and generals |

Run With Me


I still cant find you, looking around and you're not here. 

You're lost in this word, and Im here on my knees. 

Trying to get where I need to be, So that I'll be there when you find me. 

But until that time, I'll sit and wait, and hope tomorrow brings a brand new day. 

And maybe then, I'll get the chance, to look around and hold your hand. 

To see your face, to make you g...

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Tags: hope,love

'Can I read this out to you?' 'Noooooooo, I've got stuff to do.'

entry picture

Remember last night's tea

when you brought your girlfriend,

and you brought your friend?

And the dog was excited

because he loves it when you are all here

because I am so happy

and I'm like- superwomb?

And I got food delivered

and you were all relieved

because it can be touch and go

with my cooking                

and there was loads to go around


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Tags: care,family,flawed,fleeting moments,love,only human,take-away

Puppets on Strings







None our own devices

in any scheme of things


We all are but nothing

than puppets on strings


With advent designed

for a set time on stage


All expectedly ordained

impossible to rearrange


Often get manipulated

and to probable comply


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Tags: life's reflection

So and so

entry picture

"So" fronts each statement

and question

"So"s deployment needs

greater inspection

as its use is abundant

and grammatically redundant

add to that the rising inflection



words and foto T Carroll

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

as Robbie Burns said: | B ro ken m as onr y | The taste of below |


Working 9- 5, what a way to make a living. I hate those words Dolly sings.

Working in an office, I can’t put into words the misery it brings.


Boring old small talk, ‘Nice evening? Nice weekend? Nice lunch?

Listening to the office geek, you know the I.T guy you just wanna punch.


Checking the Daily mail website 72 times a day,

staring at the computer screen, hoping an ...

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Your projection leaves much to be desired

A preacher on a sphere barren, brown

Leaves fall at your feet, then washed away

By the biting tide, of dull and grey.


And since your last promotion you have

Been slow to react, blank, negative

The whites of your eyes never clearer

All ear for problem lost in the wash.


That I guess is the nature of the rise

The clear l...

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Tags: 2014

Also by David Blake:

Late Night Special |



I had a text today

telling me I'd won 5k

which news was greeted

by being deleted



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Also by Gareth Glyn Roberts:

So You Want To Be Happier? | My Knee |


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Tin to mouth

Tin to feet

One jig to reel

enough to eat


Is he broken, broke, breaking

on the pavement by the station?

Is he played, paid, playing

to his own tune or to yours?


Tin to mouth

Tin to feet

Two jigs to reel

enough to eat


Do you jingle jangle shillings

in your pocket as you’re walking

past the tinsmith making

all th...

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Tags: richpix

Also by Laura Taylor:

Jigsaw |


Can make me a puppet.

You can make me dance

And moan

And shake

And cum literally at the tip of your finger

You make my entire body move with your finger

(and your eyes)

You can make me feel my matter condensing to a single point at the tip of your finger,

I imagine it is glowing.

And sometimes when you’re making love to me

(I’m sorry, I know you hate that ...

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Tags: fire flesh love passion obsession,lesbian,love,sex,sexual awakening

Also by Molly :

(untitled) |

Writers of the third kind workshop

Hi Guys;

little reminder that the writing workshop i co run, writers of the third kind is due for it's latest meet up on weds 19 november 2014 at the sweet green tavern in bolton.

be nice to see a few of you there.

take care

andy n 

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Before the Storm

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At no age at all you've started to feel

how a life gets mired in memories,

the way each backward glance

is like a noose that tightens.


Across flat versts of muddled terrain

your distant city glimmers –

reduced to a few bright rooms

where you were first indulged


and then became accomplished.

Working through grammars

and the language of flowers,


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Also by David Cooke:

Village Life | The Burghers of Calais | In Search of Lost Time |


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I sit inside watching the snow fall from the dark grey sky.

I see you, not physically, but mentally.

A memory of us filled each snowflake.

It started out beautiful and high in the clouds.

Then it floated down lessening in beauty and in shape.

Until it eventually hit the hard cold ground shattering and turning into nothing.

I sit and watched our past disappear into the gravel neve...

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its a beautiful thing watching the sunrise and sun set,

but i will forever be a moon child;

most nights i look out my window. lights off, immersed in the fineline music of darkness.

& in my darknest of hours the only light shedded was from the mood;

"i am here...for you.."

many faces i have shown

"i too have many faces.."

when i feel like im surrounded by the unnecessary..


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I died inside

I'm just tryna get on,
Don't ask for much,
As much I have,
With good family and friends,
I don't do to bad,
But there's a feeling of emptiness deep inside,
I'm keepin it quiet, but inside I've died,
I don't like to share the failure I feel,
For a glimpse of hope, I would beg, borrow, steal,
Tears keep rolling from my blue blue eyes,
I'm keepin it quiet, but I've died inside,
All feeling...

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Also by tina:

The Shame | The top of the world |

Waking Moments

A clever man can manipulate a people,

By tarnishing the wise as fools,

But the real fools upon this day,

Are those that follow blindly - everything he says,


He’ll shout upon the rafters

The stupidity of compassion;–

Fashioning thoughts from those

In fear in poverty,

He’s keeping ignorant.


He’ll claim he knows a better way,

And how his politic is be...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

No-one Really Understood Until the Blood Sapped From Their Face! | Seasons of Blood and Humanity's Cloth |


I want to go because today was hard and I'm too tired to sleep. I can't live here much longer. Business as unusual. Give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give give.

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Also by Miss :

Pieces of paper. | P.D. |

Bloody hell

Bloody hell

Reigned down

In bloody mess

Blood stained streaks

Of bloody minded bloodiness

Fill red rose pools

Whilst everyone looks round

 for somebody else to accuse

each claiming God is on their side

But who can say whose blood

Will soak into infest, ingest, ingress

Into the hearts, minds and souls

Of those soul less others


The passion that was dealt


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Also by Martin Elder:

Do it again |

The Marching Kingdom.

The beasts of the midnight shade deepening 
in the tearless night where hearts are opened and skulled. You must be dreaming! 
Lust and anger in the mist! The blue eyes of my age! Sins inflamed on my damned 
soul! The bloody sabbath in clear view, pure and drunken 
towards the marching kingdom. 
My spirit on fire! 
The nest 
of poor innocence where the 
is a mystery.

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Danny Metcalfe:

The moon's fame, child of the sun. | Pséf̱ti̱s. (Short story) |


I value my privacy so much that it's physically painful to me

when it's violated in any way. Imagine what it's like when the

only daily interaction you get (or live in fear of getting) from 

your own kind is nuisance activity from creatures who you don't

even want to be on the same planet with.

Financial circumstances force me to live communally in a block of flats;

not the towe...

Read and leave comments (8)

Tags: anti psychotic meds,creatures,drilling,hammering,sanctum,toasted teacakes

Also by Phil Fletcher:

Mighty microbes and viruses. | Rubbish chute-size chunks of human flesh. |


entry picture

She only wants somewhere to live
Somewhere warm to shelter
Yeah, that would be a start
But giving homes isn’t what we do
Empty cold eyes say it all

Tonight it’s a church doorway
She used to got there as a little girl
And for all it’s epic symbolism
The cross can’t help her now
She dreams, God how she dreams
With faith, hope and determination
Maybe she’ll get there

Read and leave comments (1)


entry picture

Through these halls
I walk alone.
In the classrooms
where I sit with many others
I am still, yet alone.
In the Cafateria
the same thing there goes as well
I am there, yet I am not seen.

Alone is where I am
no matter where I go.
I am here, I am there,
I am everywhere.
And standing there
I try to get
your undivided attention
because I am tired
of being in solitary,
yet I continue ...

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Tags: alone,invisible,life,not being sseen,sad


Nascent swimming, undertaking the lunge into reservoirs.

Our third tour of duty for love

I chase the serenade of warmth in your eyes----Balanced perfectly on stout cheeks and lips who utter the slightest phrase will control liberty.

The voice of your channels propel me into quandary.

Continue to hide behind your stare and I will be your audience. The avenues shine in the dark room.


Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Bloomie Scott:

Leika pt.2 | Samantha | Aspire | Sonnet VI | Malikah |


entry picture
Poem 223 of 230:  SERIOUS SERVING

We were taught “stand in-plane, like a golfer” -
    Who started this “aim at the umpire”?!
And, when setting, why bounce the ball at all?
    Why not look-longer at where it should fall?

(C) David Franks 2003; from - 

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When Snails Cry

When snails cry

You can see tears

From their tiny eyes.

Eyes out on stalks

Eyes out for walks.

Behind those eyes

Lies a surprise.

No one knows

Their silent pain

But no one is to blame,

Fate plays a cruel game,

The shell of a snail

Makes it lame,

Weighs it down,

Like a pound

But makes no sound.

The voiceless cries

Of snails,

Their sticky membran...

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Tags: Daniel Tavet,humour,nature,snail

Also by Daniel Tavet:

Autumnal Birth ( Hot Cools Down) | Boots of Leather |

Trev does Texas again 2015: The run up

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Image: Louie a boston terrier the latest addition to our family it is early morning enjoying a morning nap (snooze). While he was sleeping it was raining outside and the following poem came to mind. The second poem was some lines I had been workingwith and decided to put them together to see what came out


14.11.14 - 1) Sat listening to the morning rain

Beating on my window pane


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Sometimes Things Just End.

It’s been two years, since we slept like
lovers hands intertwined, laced together
as if stitched with thought.
Since sunlight pierced the scene of ash trays
spilling, morning sweat pooling in our curves,
Your breasts on my back.

Your breasts in the bath gathering suds while
I'd mash the mash, stir the gravy and sing along to
‘I Love to Love' by Tina Charles;
Then clink to us, on a...

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I have emailed the admins,

and awaited response.

For a long

time and yet

no reply, no reply,

over and over and over

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Winter afternoon

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On a winter afternoon, when I besieged you in my soul,

love emerged drawing your kisses on my lips;

in my breasts the man next to my bedside

and behind the dream a wave of your memories


Your voice was the silence and sap running through my body...

and from the dream to my memory only unconsciousness passes through my eyes

and my ​​torment is the sea of your hands,


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Also by Noris Roberts:

The skin of my words |


entry picture

I joined a bowls club last year and found myself enjoying the pastime.  I wrote the following 'poem' at the end of the season.   One of my first endeavours.

Autumn meant the end of the bowls season,
 A pastime, which, for many, has no reason.
 With it’s competitions, friendlies, and roll-ups.
 No! not a ciggie, opportunities for tune ups,
 Greens upon which friends, each try to out...

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Tags: bowling,sport

Also by Jack purvis:



I have a letter.  It is my most precious possession.
I keep it safe, tucked into the sails of a painted boat
made in China, designed to remind of a seaside lifestyle. 
I don't know why I bought it as I do live by the sea, 
though I don't have a 'lifestyle' - just a life.
I painted the cotton sails duck egg blue 
to match cushions I made, so there is 'style' too,
 - not jus...

Read and leave comments (5)

Also by Judi Strega:

A Mother's Lament | The Outing | Suitcase | The 25th Floor | Tea Rooms |


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Locked behind Xanax bars; trapped between the ocean and stars 

I lie

To rot away the life I have been given; to choose a life of opposition

For Unless one happened to stumble upon a key; I couldn't be, I know not what she
believes, only that through the drugs she sees 

Through storms we sailed, across the ocean without fail, with glowing eyes that impale she is sure to turn heaven from hell

Tortured i...

Read and leave comments (3)

Tags: addiction,faith,life,love,poem,poetry,sad,xanax

"IT'S A HEARTACHE THING"- sing Country!

Loading the player…

A combination of words and tune in the Country style!


"I thought that you'd come back that day I saw you at the door

I thought you'd just been cruel to be kind

But you told me you were back to get the things you left before

You smiled that smile and hoped I didn't mind


It's a h...

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Tags: heartache

Also by M.C. Newberry:



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(We cremated my dad on Tuesday.  I closed the service with this short eulogy)


It falls to me to say a few words to bring this service to a close, some of which I wrote a few days ago and some I wrote this morning.

I wrote some this morning because I’d woke early.  I couldn’t sleep for thinking about my dad; several separate memories, some of them almost trivial.  One in particul...

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Also by John Coopey:


Jean's View

When hilltops are caught

Beneath the sun

Shades of honey

Flow down their sides

And sweeten

The land below

Read and leave comments (3)

Tags: For my lovely Gran who lived in Gloucestershire.

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