Rolling Curtains

entry picture

The rolling of the curtains,
Shimmering silvery black,
In an instant woke me up,
Stretch the curves in one, two, three.

A backbone bent unbroken,
A detour along the way,
A chosen path of loving,
Walking slowly in four, five, six.

Then the curtains rolled again,
My last piece of hope awaits,
Lying on the bed tied,
Pushed and pulled in seven, eight, nine.

Watching the clock intently,

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Also by Marianne May:

Womanhood |




new leaf

New leaf


I dream of sleeping in a bed of rose petals

like an Indian potentate waiting for his favorite concubine.

I know as I wait the petals will be crushed cling to my body and

the bed will stink of decay. 

I drive my motorbike across the Alps, the cows don`t bother

to look up they have seen elephants.

I Swiss hotels are expensive and cold and smell of edelweiss,


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Also by jan oskar hansen :

from face to faith | no revolution | the aliens have landed | feral cats | never look back | cobwebs of dreams | the new tyranny | after rain | riches | the fable | demise of my horses | the women of soldiers | sex, and sin | gun play | the Umrella | to gina | death of Arnold | Sunday |

Sins which we are


What am I?

A fruitful comrade?

A terrible lie?

And if so, how bad?

I lie awake at night,

Lost in thought,

Troubled by fright,

My stomach in a knot,


If we are all unjustified

Destined to hell

Blossomed in pride,

With our breasts full of swell,

Swelling with sin

Sin which we nurture 

Sin which we bath in

Sin which is our future

Sin whi...

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Also by Silverrust:

All I have | Please don't leave |



Invitation To Move On

I am small in the sea, pushed around
by waves that care not for any grain of sand
or stuff that floats in old men’s heads.

Arms held wide and high, that reach and cling
like a child to a parent when things get rough,
when routines fail and muscles waste.

I hesitate, recoil, cower; skin so thin
these cold water blades could spill these guts
for waiting gulls and wash away this name.


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Also by Jonathan Humble:

Another Bleak Poem | Somewhere Else |

Do you

Watching you sleep

makes me curious

Do you dream?

Do you know how to dream?

Is that something you learn

Or is it something that just happens?

I wish I knew

what you thought about

what you dreamt about

Like how I know what your all about.

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Also by yannahnorth:

Monitor |

Leaving for Work in the Early Morning

it rained
in the passing night

leaves rustle
wet shadows taken
by a sudden current

follows me
like a footstep

morning curls
heavy in
the shadows
of the grass

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The ringmaster sandwich poem / the nowhere poems


A drink of
your smile.

and the
like the 
of circus 
in the

it is 1:00 a..m. 
and I know
your watch.

for love
to come.

it's late.

and it leaves
you with
a sickening
gut feeling.

like a lover
who cheated
out your
back door
before you
could awake.

better be


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Also by david patrick simon:

Ringmaster / the nowhere poems | Lynn's poem / the nowhere poems | Debra's dilemma / the nowhere poems | The rewrite wives/ the nowhere poems | Love is a highway / the nowhere poems |

Ram It In!

Ram it!

Ram it in!



Let them fight, cry, scurry!

Be they moist, rejoice!

If they're dry hear them roar!


Take that rigid thing and

force it in!

Sear their flesh as it slaps!

Pull their hair!

Claw their eyes!


Ram it! 

Ram it in!


Tie their wrists!

Part their skin!


Feel their weakness tingle!

Lick their hearts for hours!


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Also by Kealan Coady:

The Sea As Sigil | But First The End | The Plenum Existential |

Puerto Rico Puerto Rico

Puerto Rico, Puerto Ric0

Have you survived the storm ?

The hurricanes the hurricanes

no mercy do they show.

we ask the eternal question

what have we done wrong ?

Don't blame yourselves it's no ones fault

Nor punishment from God.

Time and unforeseen occurrance

I've learned be falls us all.

Prayers are the saving hope

Prayers for our souls.



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Also by terry l shuff:

The Whale | Endurance |


entry picture

Have you ever been so sad it almost felt like

Have you ever felt like running away,escaping

escaping from your own skin, your own life?

your soul simply leaving your body

transcend into another life

a happier life,a perfect place.

she whispers in my ear

"run away with me, take a leap of the edge and
transcend with me, come dance with me,lets go to a
happy place, ...

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Also by Eseosa:

Awake | The poem of hypocrite |

Stronger Than You

stronger than you

everything  scratches your nerves

you step back 

and try to observe 


ourselves in our 

mammalian ways

there’s not a thing to say  


stronger than you 

she was patient 

while you matured 


all giving when 

all you had 

was hunger 


you had no time to see it 

now you can’t 

even remember


you scour the city 


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Also by Robert C Gaulke:

Bad Writer | Coyotes | cool | Deep Ambivalence | Unpopular Music | I want to sell out | The Record Man | comfort animal certification | Orange and Blue | ambivalence works | You're My Shop |


A new strength has found me;

Anger born into sheilds

of subtle protection -

I will not be tamed.

You are the Antichrist

And now I know it

Without hesitation

I shall let my inner fire




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Also by Natfastic:

Empathy |


He rides his bike on the pavement

On the road

Where he pleases

Cutting his own track across town

Through park and green

On kerb and street

No gap too small to fit

Just like when he was kid

Punching the pavement with his spit

His expression says

Yeah I know?


Through sun and rain

Any and every way

Is his

Sometimes riding

Against the traffic

on t...

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Also by Martin Elder:

Rested |


I scraped some music off the walls

it slithered down in waterfalls

tasting sweet upon my tongue

fragmented songs as yet unsung


bursting out was heavy rock

that scattered all delicious dreams

my ears were caves where settling in

were Diana Ross and the Supremes.


Memories are made of this

such private moments of plasterwork

when the decorators come in


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Also by ray pool:


The Last Leaf



Autumn falls 

Leaves of brown,

crunched with glee. 

Sun in grey skies,

your smile is seen. 

Breaths vapour,your life;

Crisp smiles in your eyes. 

Skipping waves of happiness;

Savouring life,in a cool autumn sun. 

Freedom breezing through your mind  

For those moments, you were free;And I

smiled with you. 

Then the last leaf falls. 

No more glee;


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Bigot | Sunflowers | Lost in stone | Heady | Venus | Possessed | We are Sand | The last Book | The Weeping Tree | February Morning |

Jack and the Beanstalk

Jack was not smartest lad - can we agree that must be said?
In fact, when I first heard this tale, it hurt my sorry head
to think he might have kept his pride, won praise and earned street cred
if his mother had sold the cow herself and just let him stay in bed

But then, nothing in the story is as simple as it seems
take that rhyming bloody giant with his strange bread-making schemes
If you ...

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Also by David Lindsay:

Revenge | Cinderella |

This Morning Was A Breath

This morning was a breath,

And the burdens were weightless.

My hair bounces as I walk,

And my voice is clear when I talk.

I smiled when the camera was pointed at me.

It feels so good to just be seen.

The caress of you,

Reminds me of colorful views,

That  used to be used to.

Today I am me -

And this me is brand new.

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Also by Kirsten N Wilmoth:

Cheap Mascara |


100 best poemsbrand newconfidentLove yourselfpoetryshort poem


entry picture

I miss the rush, 
the release, 
my dopamine, 
my beautiful heroine 
addicted to you,
I never felt so blue.
It was inevitable 
that I would lose 
lost in the hues of my 
perfect muse.
Intoxicated in your mist  
searching out my sweet bliss, 
hoping for anything but


Be my nepenthe 
and chase away the sorrow 
that leaves me so hollow.

My chemical high, 
my sweet demise...

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Also by MyDystopiA:

Tunneled | Leaves | Orangeblue |


failed romance

Being a Fly

"Bah" said the fly
"I am not a trying to hurt
Just throw up 
Then eat a turd
Buzz around
Make myself heard
Make some babies 
And then die
I only live a month
And start life as a maggot 
Think about that
You absolute 
Big human tosser"

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Also by Alexander Watson:

Dust of the future |

Bottoms Up

You can skew your view
Through the bottom of a glass
But there's nothing you can do
To change the past

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Also by Albert Van Skywalker:

The Voyeuristic Commuter |





            no man should know

            or say


            no child should hear:

            parent, pray

            to be spared.

as he sat with his sons at home

and struggled to find


he knew

            she will never return to us

he knew

            she is too ill


In a time when she was strong

for them

as her body weake...

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Also by Chris Armstrong:





Koan on Sound

See how sound may confer movement

on an inanimate object.

Notice how temperature may

alter a sound.

Consider then the movement

that the temperature of each season

may impart to a sound


© Graham Sherwood 09/2017

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Also by Graham Sherwood:

Palindromic Piddling | Koan on Emotion | Camino Haibun | So Haiku |

Tai Chi


Tai Chi

he said,

convinced of the wisdom by a pretty girl in uniform.


I can do it in my chair

he said,

oblivious to all the times I'd made the same suggestion.


I've never done Tai Chi

he said.

They do it in the village hall, it doesn't cost a lot.


I can even go alone

he said.

I won't need chaperoning, there'll be loads of people there.



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Also by Laura Taylor:

Jacob's Ladder |

Bragger Greys

Instore café content, paces past a chemist and a black man, taste it
Bearded men, smooth men, and golden ruby wives
Vigour-lacking lists turning over old stories, new times on black and white paper, detail sliding tackles
He-'politician’, this day and age had his lady helper, a mug to mouth coaxer, slow motion intake hailer
Not about beyond, that ‘should be’, leaving, knowing near-term middle ...

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Also by Paul Welsh:

seconds away | Billionaires | Free Pass | The Fall of Man |


beat poetrycontemporary poetrypoempoetry

Dew on a pedal

I sit by a flower,
Large in size,
Dipping and giving way beneath its own weight,
The peddles tired from the wind.

Touching it,
My body shudders,
The motionless people around me fade into the ever thinner air.

Mist rolls over the ice cold air,
Condensing into my hands,
I question the light that erodes from the form.

Bobbing to the echos of silence in this darkened night,
The flower...

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Also by Adrian Metcalf:

Bashful Sun | Shallow Bends on a Wide Road | A Rock's Face | The Begging Tree | Transient Beauty |

History of Philosophy in Rhyming Quatrains - the ancients

Just for fun, I've been trying to write a brief history of philosophy by assigning one rhyming quatrain to each philosopher. In a few I try to capture something meaningful about the philosopher. In others, I just toss out some snark or irrelevancy. Anyway, here are a few of them.

Laozi (604-531 BCE)

If you can describe it,

Understand it isn’t the Dao.

But the Dao encompasses

All tha...

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Also by Randy Horton:

Love Like a Cliche |


Where I cut you won't show 

Where I cut you won't see

Where I cut you will never know;

never see what hides in me.


Never you will see

Forever I will hide 

for always it will be;

unknown on the underside.

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Also by Meike:

Till it happens |

Tall Trees


Comforting to know
any raven among the high nesters
might see the tarmac way
laid out and wheels rolling 
yet glad also I might be
a million miles distant
yes and my weighty duties
wrought contracts too 
all barred from the prime hour here
for I find a freedom from harness
in a sentimental spell among the spirits
of every naturally dazed poet I hear sigh

straight-stemmed giants

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Also by Adam Whitworth:

Mulling It Over And Over |

crap poem written in a supermarket car park


man in motor
supermarket car park
staring out the window
waiting for his missus
she’s doing all the shopping
chatting with all her old friends
blocking up the aisle ends


Doris has a bad back
Derrick’s had a prostate check
only popped in for some milk
condolence card, pack of mints
blue badge comes in handy
less to walk and less to carry
a Lidl bargain every d...

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Also by Colin Hill:

Summer Broken | a peculiar feeling | The Sidestep Shuffle | Wishful Thinking |


entry picture

1981, the year a blue stencil,

verso, gloss off-white,

unstuck blu-tacked, loose framed,

sun-curled image

your grin and your cow-lick,

and causal wear,

your ghost in my machine.

A bawling, squall, curtains

of hail and rain hang outside,

ladder, paint, spots and tans

and frayed carpet,

the dark, shaggy corner swamp,

where I found you, sideways-stacked,


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Also by David Blake:

Grow, Green Garden |




Teach children to aspire, provide them with

tools to reach – strive to achieve – after all,

we inhabit a dog eat dog world, where

we all fight for everything we’ve got.


Teach children that success is the purpose

of being alive, indoctrinate them:

the cult of self-measurement, relative

status the principle of life on Earth.


Teach children to aim for goals – achieve


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Also by Rich:

The loss of human nature |


live lifesuccess


Urban Myths.

Sometimes we don't know what to believe.


She walked along the sunny side of the city

Regents Park of north-west London.

With the wonderfully elegant white embassy buildings,

Georgian windows and the Victorian zoo.

She was headed to the park pushing the baby in the buggy.

Past the highly scented rose garden and floral displays.

When they reached the sandpit...

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Also by Hannah Collins:

The Grass | The Corn Dolly | The Letter | The Man On The Corner |


1.      Dam


It is a dam

It is going to burst

Holding it for now

But it will burst


Tears will flow

Frustration will surface

Anger hidden away

Only want some peace


No hope, no self-esteem

No confidence

Not my usual self

Clever not dense


The dam will burst

Of that I am sure

Don’t know when

What will open the door


I just want ...

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Also by Andy Smyth:

A bit more Dark and Light |



Catch a tear

Catch a tear upon your pillow, 

Don't let it last for a lifetime, 

Shake off the doubters, 

The haters, 

The non believers, 

Remember the peace in silence,

The light within,

Always be true to yourself, 

Your wisdom, 

Eternal being, 



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I suspect most people don’t

Find themselves between the throes,

Of sadism in a daily dose,

And must pull themselves away.


When I see you on the bus,

And you are harsh to your child

I want to murder you

And foster your kid.


Some people would be surprised

How many people do not value your life

Unless you are in a position

To constantly put in a good perform...

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Also by Ferris Taylor:

5:30 am Ghazal | Hail/Hail | Thoughts of a Sad Person | Stepping Over Homeless People to Buy Kebabs on Gosport High-Street | Ladies and Gentlemen, Flies and Spiders | Fun Rhyming/ Black Eyes |


Studying children's fiction got me like...

Message in a bottle

This ink penetrates this parchment 

A sailor's tattoo.

Letters, like all the little boats

Floating in this harbour,

Bob across the waves,

Nestle up against each other

Forming words in the diesel marbled water.


In the morning, the sun rises in

A yellowing sky

Some boats sail out to sea and

All the letters follow in their wake

Spelling out "take me safely home"


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bored! bored! bored!

don't even wanna get my boring mush behind make-up

or touch my boring processed brekky


my mum-cum-lady in waiting

has told boring work on the phone

that I'm not well

in such a way that even I believed it!


yes,bored! bored! bored!

to a point of being bored with boredom itself


ok so some might say get a life,yeah?

well I have

the o...

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Also by Rose Casserley:

invisibly chained | Bonk Island...........;0) |


There are no words to describe the gravity of  your love, it is refreshing like the air which I breath.

Come into my life,  Oh my love!                               Your kindness is a gift that bears sweet fruits   There's nothing more Compromising than your heart                                                                           There's nothing worth loving than you, in you I see the e...

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Also by jeronth:



We were breathing in acetylene,
high up, a region of pure ether
and aesthetics, so cold the river
saw fit to take a pulse before it
slit our wrists and left our fingers
to burn and bear the brunt. Only

those fluent mosses groomed
by the current over the weir
could hope to dress such wounds
as these, which were beyond
pain, inflicted without blood loss,
while we, under anaesthesia,


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From the tree, the leaves lose hold and fall,

Their wrinkled faded fabric, once glorious green then gold,

Evoking human lives meeting their own approaching winter,

Coming to their rest as the world turns cold;

Making way for those that wait their turn,

And like the leaves: they're beneath the foot or they burn.


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Also by M.C. Newberry:



entry picture

Last night I had a dream

that stayed with me through the day.

Major life events must be happening your way.

Sometimes I feel what happens

long before it comes to be.

I wish you all the best, I hope that you're happy.

From one soul to another

I say congratulations.

But why am I still getting these notifications?

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Also by Lyrical Lexa:

Nobody Cares | September | Bluebird |

random feelings from the forgotten corner of my heart

i dont think i can have one glass of wine if i have one, i'd rather have five.

i stood there in shock at what ive become, i grew in releif when i realized i was finally strong enough to change.

i know i'll forever be tainted with grief of why i let you into my brain and infest it with gloom.

when i see you i want to run up to you and give you a hug i want to tell you everything ive experi...

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Poetic Madness To Die For!

Discover themes of the past

memeory lines recharge poetic madness

The Complete Marble untouchable glory

collage poetry to die for!

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Also by Nigel Astell:

Fly like a Bird land like a Stone |


Stockport Collage Poems 2011-2017


Feel the bliss of the kiss
From the feel of the steel
As it cuts and it shuts
Down this life with a knife

Eternal darkness come to me my friend
There is no purpose only the end
No more wars, no more fighting
A means to an end less frightening

Feel the bliss of the kiss
From the feel of the steel
As it cuts and it shuts
Down this life with a knife

Eternal darkness let us walk hand...

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My Town

My town,

its a thick, insulated place,

Its got pastry on its borders,

dripping with pride


The heathered moors

and dark pits,

give it a gristly accent

It rolls round the palate,

like bloody chewing gum


Locals shake flakes and crumbs

When hardship bites

As they stumble out of last order doorways,

Perishing cold, corn beef legs

slurry home for love


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Also by gavin turner:

Arthur | The 2nd Parakeet |

Call me and Send me

Lord Jesus, Call me into the light

Call me into love

Call me into the light

Call me to obey

Call me into Your Love

Let me know Your love

Your righteous love

No end and no beginning

Let me know You more

You have called me into grace

A grace surpassing all understanding

Draw me to who You are Lord Jesus

The One Living God Almighty

Who was, is, and is to come


Read and leave comments (0)

Blank Grave

Blank Grave

Cool bleary canvas
Stalking among the dead
Dismal autumn light - shaded sadness
Leaves collapsed splashed red

Here lies
Travelers of society
Deceitful beggars in corrupt ties
Many men eyes blurred in dubiety

Shall we desecrate what has been given
Shoot the hollow hole blindly?
Steer what is ours to be driven​?
Path marked now surely won’t end kindly.


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Also by Kamden Lüethmers:

When I'm gone if I leave |

Love for you

entry picture

Hearts that meets again

Standing beside the river 

Holding those lovely hands

Whistling air onto those ears 

Standing together in the rain

Feeling your heart beating in mine

For you only 

For you my dear


My heart  

The reason it beats

The feeling it feels 

Is just for the love 

More than ever seen

Pain and fear 

Sadness to bear 

I want it all 


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Also by Dipta Gomes:

Life of love | When my life was dark | When the time stops by.... |

Us! (For the New Hanbury Creative Writing Project)

We will last.
We will see it through
to the glorious never ending.

We don’t flinch
or as Jack Kerouac once wrote,
‘say a commonplace thing’.

These writers here,
my writers,
have held my hand
more than I theirs.

In these last minutes
there is just the
sound of pens
over paper,

a piano,
and Billy shouting
in the garden, again.

We are free
when we write.
We tell the truth...

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Also by Ralph Dartford:

Soul Boy |

Show more entries …

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