This Garden of Skipton
The accusations are muted here,
No more audible
Than a gentle summer
Breeze through the branches
Of trees that shimmer in
I can gain some
Peace until once again
The making ready of the gun
Signals the end of tranquillity,
The brief startle
Breaking reverie of freedoms –
Now subject to despondency
Tuesday 7th July 2015 3:01 am
Also by Noetic-fret!:Pray For Beer | Made For Bad |
Tuesday 7th July 2015 1:06 am
Also by David Moore:Coming home | State of the planet sitrep | M25 | Nytcophilia | Merely camping | Gazimestan 1389 | Gazimestan 1389 | Self assessment |
with its rotivation of air
this big thing hangs, a violation
threatening the eye of a storm
in its punctuation .
Hearts beat rotorwise.
It takes blood stock and uniform, pride
to places no decent man should go
and always, yet never alone in the immediate place.
The drum explodes, nothing is expected
that can be tasted nor heard
but a song of the vanquished, the refrai...
Monday 6th July 2015 11:43 pm
Also by ray pool:CAISTER ON SEA | PIGEON POEM | KNOCK THREE TIMES | ON THE HEATH | STRING QUARTET | OLD SKIN | SHE IS THE OCEAN | THE ESSEX BOYS(The Rettendon murders) |
Friends, Romans and tourists!
The eternal city
more breathtaking than pretty
where the prospect
of a Euro
is more popular than pity
And why not
you need money to live
in a city like this
buy a two grand hand bag
or a ubiquitous selfie-stick
We bake with the beggars
in the searing heat
a wall to wall furnace
is every street
Monday 6th July 2015 10:27 pm
His one eye would fix on us, mock glare
pitted, pockmarked skin, hands with grease coats
never washed, a dirty rag upon his shoulder
as we got air filled in tyres, late for school
he, mumbling and rooting inside a wooden box,
he would wheel across to wherever he stayed
no one knew. Or cared
a rusted lock, protecting his rusted tools
the key lying across his thinning frame...
Monday 6th July 2015 9:18 pm
Also by Preeti:Parched Earth |
A taste of existence between two slices of the unknown.
A forced feeding of time you can't spit out.
A story of your life on a toilet roll to be used by the arse of eternity.
A place in a queue lining up for rigor-mortis.
A baby being made to jump an indeterminate number of yearly fences.
A listing of your name on a menu for worms.
A loan from the bank of creation requiring your ...
Monday 6th July 2015 9:04 pm
Also by Rose Casserley:me about me | Child of the Zodiac | beyond the Monroe cul-de-sac | cast adrift |
a symbol of
who bears the
Monday 6th July 2015 7:53 pm
Also by Huw Thomas:The creep. | Lowliness. | Such misery. | My favourite | I replied unconvincingly. | And then listen. | Say the least. | I should mimic him. | A figment of the imagination. | ....do they need. | Back in the day. | Wifeillitis |
To answer the questions of life
a man must first allow the question
or how can he know anything
© Graham Sherwood 07/2015
Monday 6th July 2015 7:47 pm
you are naked
dancing under the sunlight
in your imaginary
the velvet foil
of your illusions
sparkles in your eyes
the freedom of deceit
on another man’s hand
you feel invisible now
through the glassy brilliance
embalmed in those glorious charms
fallen from the sky
like great wings of fire
the headstone and the hail
the thunder and...
Monday 6th July 2015 7:20 pm
Also by Colsibabes:Vinyl Memories | quiet |
Loading the player…
Monday 6th July 2015 6:43 pm
*My daughter made this brilliant poem (her words) lol and asked that I share it with you all. She is 10 and has started to experiment with words and writing. She sees me write very often and today I told her about Haiku. Explained what the structure consisted of and let her have at it. A few minutes later she handed me this :)
Beauty has power
stronger than anything round
You better watch o...
Monday 6th July 2015 5:58 pm
Also by R Miller:Impulsive Words | I Hate Ice Cream | Frozen Blind and Lost | All of Me | My Wish For Him | Ex Alert |
Sometimes I stand there
In front of the mirror
And my stomach grows
My thighs fatten
My chins double
As I stare at myself
I can feel the food inside me
Bloating and distending me
From inside out
I rush to clothe myself
In case they no longer fit by the time I am finished
In case my fingers become too fat
And sausage like
To do up my buttons
I feel sick at ...
Monday 6th July 2015 5:45 pm
Tags: body dysmorphia,fat,thin,who knows?
Also by Stu Buck:claret | economy domine | beach |
On Saturday 4 July I celebrated my second book reading event of the summer to promote my new poetry pamphlet, A Model Archaeologist: https://leilaniestewart.wordpress.com/2015/07/06/a-model-archaeologist-at-the-carpenters-arms/
Monday 6th July 2015 4:47 pm
Tags: Eyewear Publishing,poetry readings,The Carpenter's Arms
~~That Day He Didn’t Die Again
An empty crisp packet fought the wind
from the furthest corner of the park
to where I pushed the girls on swings;
it briefly wrapped worn denim shins
then railed against the playground bars.
Trees rooted around the meadow’s edge,
mirroring an animated crowd,
swayed approvingly and shook their heads
or stood motionless withholding breath.
Monday 6th July 2015 4:01 pm
Also by ray m:Neapolitan Street |
It was not me
I said nothing
To cause those tears
To create the rivers
All men find
Impossible to cross
It wasn't me
I did nothing
Or say anything
To cause the sea
of tears that drove
And so so many
Good souls lost their
In the storm of
Your raging moods
As for I said nothing
Or do anything
Well lets face ...
Monday 6th July 2015 2:45 pm
When The News was Easy
Most of us know more now than we did before when news
was simpler such as the Soviet Union bad- and Mao in China
swam across the river I have just been reading about Sinai
a place I thought consisted of sand, goats and Bedouins on
white horses, but there has been a slow war there going
back a long time. We didn’t and were not told that Islam has...
Monday 6th July 2015 11:02 am
Also by jan oskar hansen :meeting an old friend | a poet road | the undying soul | changing class | job seekers | ghosts | Ruben, the teaser | Ruben, the teaser |
Coming of age
Garnet of constancy
Three wise men.
Humility of the soul
Shadow of the sun
Innocence like a diamond
Independence of the light
Celebration of earth.
Emerald of love
Lily of the valley
The joy of Mother's day.
Pride of Father's day
Monday 6th July 2015 6:29 am
Also by Keebler The Elf:Rainbow |
Once upon a time
Sunday 5th July 2015 8:35 pm
Sometimes. Sometimes, when I am alone,
I slowly, warily try and bring myself back.
Cry out the rotting lump in my throat,
pull at greying hair, a constant reminder,
life is passing and you are no longer there.
Unable to breathe. A little girl lost,
flying kites into thunderclouds.
Glancing faces of mornings in all their glory
delivers me to rest – and now I’m blessed
Sunday 5th July 2015 4:55 pm
Tags: Katypoetess,love poetry
there is so much to be consumed;
there is so much to consume you
the flame-licking candles of summer love
the zenith where bending over backwards finally breaks
shatters the sky you've met as limits
and you come tumbling down, breaking every branch
at first trying to climb back up
'I can fix this, I can fix this: I can be whatever you need me to be!'
then, trying not to fall so far
Sunday 5th July 2015 4:19 pm
Tags: the audacity of a ring i've never been so paralyze
You held a child's heart.
Each broken fragment
wrapped in paper thin lines,
torn from a brand new jotter.
A pain-spattered confession
pleading for answers.
If the words had come to life,
you would have been deafened
by their screams.
Yet you did nothing.
Sunday 5th July 2015 11:51 am
A world apathetic to the pain that apathy wrought.
How much apathy would one want to endure.
Such a delight to endure the degradation.
Ever a joy to degrade so slowly. Into quiet.
Sunday 5th July 2015 8:14 am
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(Written a couple of weeks ago but unable to post owing to holiwags)
When I was a young boy, no more than a sprog
We cherished the beautiful game
But now it’s transformed from a Prince to a frog
And dirtied its great and proud name.
The game was a beacon which gave us so much
In innocence, pride and in smiles
Brazilian magic, the skills of the Dutch
And Banksy and...
Saturday 4th July 2015 11:16 pm
Death; the dealer
of the final deck of life.
No hidden agendas,
just a cold slate to wipe.
With hand and sword
or rock and stone,
with shaft sailing deadly
through grey skies, alone.
The smarter the weapon,
the reaper delights
at a fulsome harvest
of terror and cries.
They split the atom
and split the odds,
they split the proceeds
Saturday 4th July 2015 8:24 pm
Also by THE PEN AND THE PAGE:FRAGILE FAÇADE |
I drove home from Sunday night folk club with a storm over my house in the distance. The beginning of this came to me.
Leaves and walls and windows spin,
a jigsaw broken by a falling sun.
the road home,
a breaking storm.
I wonder what we began.
There is no calm centre,
power and colour after.
Yesterday isn’t the journey,
Saturday 4th July 2015 5:04 pm
Tags: abstract surreal,lyrics,poem
Saturday 4th July 2015 3:18 pm
Also by David Cooke:Chicago's South Side | The Teatime Bulletin |
Images of obesity appear to define the age we live in. Despite knowledge of nutrition easily obtained about
cheap healthy food (sardines, eggs, beans, bread, salad, soup, fruit et al) to be found everywhere, there's
this perversity of purchasing food in modern life that sees it becoming a deadly lottery of "weight and C" for
those unmindful of self-care. Today's NHS is overburdened with...
Saturday 4th July 2015 1:41 am
Like the stars up above are your sparkling eyes, You make me happy when you smile, like a surprise Your face i adore, And the love i have for you grows more and more I hope someday we get to explore the world Im just thankful to god that your in my life.
Saturday 4th July 2015 1:08 am
Also by olivia:nieve |
How much is she really worth?
Her beauty is gift and a curse.
A gift to me.
A curse to her.
Not really knowing why I want her.
Thinking my mind is stuck on lust.
But my mind is the opposite.
Her face is beautiful and her mind is equivalent.
She leaves a mystery after we talk.
Got me wanting to know more.
Exploring her mind besides her pants.
I can't stop over thin...
Friday 3rd July 2015 10:36 pm
Also by Ja'Saun Young:The art of giving up | HER |
I hate speed
Licence to kill, not a thrill
There is no need, for any kind of speed
Wanker Bankers thrive on it
Arrogant tossers delight in it
Put them on a treadmill to charge batteries
Take away their car keys for life
Coppers should set an example
Instead of speeding at every opportunity
One law for them, another for the lower orders
Cars are murderous machines...
Friday 3rd July 2015 5:09 pm
There is no north-south east or west
Up-down right or left
Far-near in or out
Without a point.
No line without a start and stop
No circle without a centre
And no matter how long or squiggly
No shape until a line touches itself
At a point.
No structure in any dimension
Without the meeting of points.
Like discussions simple or complex
Of minor or major import...
Friday 3rd July 2015 2:40 pm
It's not about what you eat, it's not about what you wear.
It doesn't really matter whether you're a peach or a pear.
When the star you see blinks at me,
it died years ago but its ghost is still seen.
On the crystal cold days when your breath turns to smoke,
something secret seen to all,
sometime then I will fall.
Caressed by the sand man wrapping me with drowsiness,
Friday 3rd July 2015 2:27 pm
He doesn’t make my heart sing;
he doesn’t make it soar.
He doesn’t make my heart sing;
he leaves it wanting more.
He doesn’t make my heart sing
although I want it to.
He doesn’t make my heart pink;
he only leaves it blue.
He doesn’t make my heart sing
with every word he speaks.
He doesn’t make my heart full;
well, only full of leaks.
Friday 3rd July 2015 1:32 pm
Don’t tell me you want to love me,
Abduct me, take me to despair,
And abandon me there.
Don’t give me contemptible hope,
Laugh profoundly while you see me grope.
Don’t tell me how you’ll find me,
Continue to deride me,
Grasp my hips and doggedly grind me,
Push contempt and release malevolence inside me.
Don’t give me sorry platitudes,
Perverse in all your atti...
Friday 3rd July 2015 7:52 am
Also by Michelle:He’s a Drunk | Bukowski's Disciple |
Sunday morning and up out of bed
Time to inscribe more beliefs in your head
Listen to preacher for he says no wrongs
But ignore all the pictures of boys dressed up in thongs.
The blood and the body will nourish your soul
And his words and a book will make you whole.
We look onto Jesus for what to do next
He guides you, he's in you, it's not that complex.
This man in white robe...
Friday 3rd July 2015 7:46 am
Also by K.G. Mikel:Soliloquy of a psychopath at Gunpoint |
Fire erupts furiously
A roar of thunderous anger
Followed by a rush of garishly smoke
A message released in desperation
Begging for acknowledgement
Only to dissipate
To float past heaven
As the sounds and smells become part of the world
It is exposed
Seen to death
The final act
A lone and solemn drop
Subtly slipping past sight
Friday 3rd July 2015 4:01 am
stepping the hillsides,and
pooling the congregations
of their lights
having flickered like fireflies
join the late dark.
effigies of godliness
contrasting with tenebrous surroundings
bleat vocal anthologies of pitifulness.
An owl unfolds and paley ascends
into its ghostly predatoriness.
Obscured in the fretwork of s...
Thursday 2nd July 2015 7:42 pm
I fell in love with Vic in June,
one sunny Dulwich afternoon.
I revelled in her company.
She didn’t fall in love with me.
It’s foolish, but it feels right
that I should keep my torch alight;
my heart demands that I defer
to love, and for the love of her
who wants me only as a friend,
I’ll simply let myself pretend
that one day, maybe, she might wake
and recognise a telling ache.
Thursday 2nd July 2015 12:26 pm
You are so far away, yet you still see my wet cheeks, drenched in tears.
Lips locked, cheeks flushed, breaths even.
You are so much within yourself, yet you still reach for my heart, pumping wildly.
Arms wrapped, legs tangled, breaths even.
You are so quiet, distant, brick upon brick.
Heartbeats together, eyes closed, fingers entwined.
Hear my whispers, listen to my yearning. H...
Thursday 2nd July 2015 6:26 am
n our home in Aughagreagh we used to have our share of the local sessions, where neighbours met up to party, tonight in one house, next night in someone else’s. This tells of a local house where the wife had a short tolerance after a certain hour and wanted the house cleared. The locals, out of a sense of fun and divilment, were not for moving… I wrote a version of this before and lost the words o...
Thursday 2nd July 2015 4:38 am
Thursday 2nd July 2015 2:43 am
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The kumquat sobbed upon the shelf,
A fruit somewhat benighted,
Despite the verse he sent his love,
His love was unrequited.
You see the fool was unaware
He’d got much too excited;
His muse turned out to be a plum ...
This kumquat was short sighted.
Copyright © 2015 Jonathan Humble
Wednesday 1st July 2015 10:25 pm
~~Watching wet suited fella’s a’bobbing
Got to wondering and then some thinking
Why so much sitting, and waiting
Continuous bobbing with legs a’dangling
There goes a wave, what’s wrong with it?
Is he just enjoying a tight suited, comfortable, sit?
Occasionally... Very occasionally, whilst waiting
Activity will occur, legs and arms wildly thrashing
Damn, missed the crest. One of the bes...
Wednesday 1st July 2015 5:53 pm
Dangerous men are governed by others , who dictate the way of the past . There duty to pray for forgiveness . They forget forgiveness won't last . There hatered , there greed and domination . Is born into there soles at birth . Thinking all females are there for there taking , and only them should they ever serve . But serving them females are committed , becoming betrayed , used and abused . So b...
Wednesday 1st July 2015 7:19 am
This building, this monument to my demise
This place supplanted for working I have come to despise
This battleground of angst and stress
Its tendrils tear down and barriers undress
My everything lies broken upstairs in my mind
My hopes and my dreams like dust from the grind
A warzone where many face few
An enemy within each day anew
My brain I’ll ca...
Wednesday 1st July 2015 1:25 am
for whom everything is certain
brush through the late spring
with the eager disinterest of a spaniel
stealing sandwiches from a stranger's picnic
do not notice these ferns
curled around in turning cartwheel
fingers held in buddhist contemplation
of shared energy of the body
want to know why I am interested
in these plants immemorial
that have not been mentioned
Wednesday 1st July 2015 1:18 am
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