Poetry Blogs

Sheldon the Shoe-Brekker-Inner




Sheldon the Shoe-Brekker-Inner


Sheldon was a shoe-brekker-inner

The only job he’d ever had

He charged a quid a mile, for brekkin’ in shoes

A trade that he’d learnt from his dad


He’d do brogues, or loafers, or wellies

In sizes from eight to eleven

And when times were hard, and work was tight

He’d even consider a seven


There’s a Native America...

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Our comfort

The fat beneath your chin is not a sin, the fact your not happy in your own skin is the perfect place to begin. 


Thin doesn't define you, yourself will never find you, all the while we hide from our true value.


Size is judged differently through different eyes, this should not come as a surprise, look inside to find your true beauty, look not at muscle size or "booty", speak truthf...

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Also by Luke:

A positive step |

In tea rooms


In tea rooms secrets come and go

people hide from men and weather,

some plot to overthrow the norm

in china cups they brew a storm. 


Pleasantries are exchanged in geriatric chat,

rustic stoves slow burn wood to warm the church-yard cat.

Vicars indulge oft curious boys

where peeling bells disguise their ploys.  


Cyclist scratch at saddle chafe,

mischievous ...

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Also by Wolfgar:

Poets are not entitled | Dacha | Your suffering offends me please do it quietly | Toggle tweak | The Rattlers | November rides in | Fake poetry man | You're id |

The Devil You Don't

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The Devil You Don't


I met the devil tonight

He asked if I was alright

Saw me swallow my whisky soul

watched my jaw clench tight

The buzz from the bump

the eyes never lie

If you could start again

who would you be?

I told him I'd be the devil

He said

follow me

Whore's everywhere

tonight I set you free

All I could want

there for the taking

He start...

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Also by Saber:

Child of Rain | All In One Day | Core | [0816-06-08-1945] | Sentient | The Angel And The Prince |

who wonders

do any of them 

miss me?

do they regret 

that which never happened 

do they remember? 



it's probably just me

who does 


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Also by Jenn:

tell me | is there | Prada |

What You Know

How do you know

When the joking has become

More than jokes?


How do you know

When to tell someone

That you are being hurt?


How do you know

if what you’re feeling is justifiable

Because they’re always “just joking”?


How do you know

The time in which it will

Consume you again?


What you know

Is that you’ve been

Through this before. 



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Also by Ryn:

The Station | Puzzle Pieces | Never Leave Me |




Do I see words floating through the life's obstacles?
Probably not!

Do I see the beauty amidst the misery?
Probably not!

Do I dare to venture in the dangerous games?
Probably not!

Let's not be terrified of the unknown poet
Accept differences in approach and saying
As the mind triggers bomb past the kneeing praying
For the success in words will enhance your know it.

Could I see wo...

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Also by Louis Audet:

Story of my month (14) | Story of my month (13) | Story of my month (12) | Story of my month (11) | Story of my month (10) | Story of my month (9) | Story of my month (8) | Story of my month (7) | Story of my month (6) | Story of my month (5) | Story of my month (4) | Story of my month (3) | Story of my month (2) | Story of my month (1) |


The GOD  APP is very comforting

for those who seek to find

covering topics for the otherwise blind

opening your eyes to the wonder of LIFE

as it tries to keep up with discoveries

such as this new app


simply download online


select your harmonic colour

(favourite) for screen compatability

and empathy maximisation


GOD will speak with you...

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Also by ray pool:



One day, perhaps, he will let
me live, see my springy wrists
are bandaged in white florets,
see that I am ready for my
wedding, or my coronation,
not forget I have a heart,
albeit a ragged nest the sparrows
borrow from to build their own
in my arms, in my shadows.

O I have such weathers in me,
I flounce and foster summer
storms, know the hurly-burly,
the toss and turn, my feet at a...

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Also by Tony Hill:


Wasted Trees

There’s a pervasive loneliness in a poem unread.

A desperation that rises from the page,

In a crescendo of embarrassed silence.

Unspoken words scream of repeated mistakes,

Echoing around a forest of wasted trees.


Leaves, torn from thought and limb,

Cascade to the floor and stagnate,

Stewing in the poet’s creative juice.

Distilled to a permeating, acidic brainwash,


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Also by Rob J Mann:

Haiku: Personal Ads | Haiku: Poisson |



write a poem ✍️
come back to it
leave it a bit longer ⏰
sleep on it 
read and tweak
fiddle with it 🎻
double check and spellcheck
shorten the lines
l  e  n  g  t  h  e  n    i  t
add some italics
get bold with it
feeling quite happy 
underline it
spots a repeated word
oh f*** it !! 😭


words ©Colin Hill 2017


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Also by Colin Hill:

Haiku Hike | dictum tweet | into the arterial flow | panacea | Remember Remember | Proxy World | Succumb | Mary Bradley |




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(A little belated.  He died in 1982.  But never forgotten.)


This elergy marks t’sad decline o’ Barnsley’s market ‘all

Epitomised by t’absence of one vacant butcher’s stall.

Its loss a cause o’ lamentation, keening an’ far worse

Purveyor ‘ere par excellence of pies – owd Albert ‘irst.


They mun speak o’ Melton Mowbray but owd Albert ‘ad ‘em beat

Not least because ‘is grow...

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Also by John Coopey:


Forget the Fantasy

caught up in a moment
feelings turn into actions
with hesitated movement
yet so full of intentions

when did it start or begin
we didn't know
where would it lead us
we didn't know

all we knew was to let it happen
to kill all of our lingering curiousity
to never question the what ifs
to lose the control we've maintained

the answer was always unclear
yet we could feel that it's rea...

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Refugees In Peril

There must have been a refuge.
Here we are, are we not?
A blessed refuge in time of disaster,
the humble rock so sweet at rising flood.
And the power of one blade of grass!
Reverberate the cries of heaving hearts
in dreadful days of drought.
Our histories describe us all as refugees.
Our wits or prayers confirmed
fleeing flames; sidestepping storms;
here resolution is built, we are made ...

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Also by Adam Whitworth:

Much | A woman is like a white | Swami Speaks | Fundamental Particles | To Think |


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When they were out,

she was in.

They used to shout,

and she clenching.

She was called,

an orthodox.

and they wearing suit,

with shiny boot.

Her repute was made,

as a gloomy shade.

But you never know,

when wind will blow.

As you sow,

so shall you reap.

She won't let go,

her sacrifices to seep!

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"You're so lucky" they say!

"You're so lucky," she said, "you don't have to TRY to fall asleep. You can sleep so easily."
And I smiled shrugged and said, "yeah! This is the thing I never even considered to be thankful for,"
But then when I gave it a thought, I felt so perplexed,
Because to call myself 'lucky' just because I slept 'easily' never seemed like a check point on my to do list next!
So I looked in the thesaurus...

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Also by Sidra Shahid:

Am I the worst one You have yet made?! | Dear God! | Burn the Fairytale Books! | The Subjects Don't Change, The Effects Do! | I am not whole | From myself to Jane Austen | We are All Actors | Questions Questions | My Anxiety | Poor Little Rich Girl |

Cry Freedom Lapland

Cry Freedom, the Lapland



It is not only Caledonia and the Flemish people

who are crying freedom, a new nation has been born

It stretches from Norway, Sweden and Finland.

The Swedes has accepted this new state as the female

activists said it would be discriminatory and racists to deny

The indigenous people their right.

Norway refused point blank, and as a retaliation ...

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Also by jan oskar hansen :

indoctrination | The Nordic Dilemma | the Plateau | insubstantial | indoor and outdoor plants | a story of a mountain | the child in us | the cleaning lady | the gloom of October | the para | God`s laughter | a poem of disappointment | Dance of the wolves | love`s agony | tomorrows future | sexism | August night | lonely is the famous | Balfour | Balfour | autumnal air | the french connection |


I write this on a rainy day

i guess you can never take the pain away but

what matters most is what the pain teaches you,

something deeper than the ocean

it makes you realize the real you.

They say pain comes from the truth and the lie

was invented to cut a corner and make everything seem

smooth but in my experience the lie is the truth and 

the truth is the lie because I te...

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Carpe Momentum

I walked outside
"Hey animal," I said,
"what're you doing? To where are you bounding? Why so intently set are your shoulders? Your head?"
"I am seizing opportunity," He said
(Or, maybe it was a she)
But, now I was even more enthralled than previously 
"I'm sorry, furry friend, it is not my desire to offend, but could you be so kind and please take the time, to elaborate on your earlier senti...

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Also by Dyphrent:

Uncomfortable | Upset | Orchasm | Inevitables |


We vote these politicians in . But what do we get . They're  Wined and Dined by us . Given the most expensive treats . Given privileges galor . Then it goes to their heads . Who pays for all their Joys . Who pays for all these Challenges. Why should they get freebies. We voted for a change in our lifestyle . Not to help Politicians Wine and Dine in Bars . In a work place that only the privileged g...

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Also by Wendy Higson:

The Bravest Of The Brave | Bad Feelings | Our Banks | How Dare He | Faith In Others . |

Mime Rhyme, slightly different

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I am a Mime

Can I make

a rhyme?


Sure I can

make a rhyme.


But who would

hear it?

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Also by Shirley Smothers:

Who is This Woman in the Mirror SHAPE POEM | Anxiety |



Missing Out

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Sneaking out at night to lie with your virgin girlfriend under the stars.

Seeing her face in the crowd at your High School football game.

Having a huge group of jock friends.


You never experienced any of that.

It's over. You lost at life.


Time to man up and become a provider.

Time to downsize and save for retirement.

Time to Gillette shave your face and become...

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Drawing Circles



  Drawing Circles (Gaulke/Brown)


She's calling you from faraway

from the place that doesn't change

on the border of dreams and memories 

where everything decays


you miss sundays on the beach

weekdays on tv

nothing then seems boring now

in a so-so pizza place


with a magnet in her hand

drawing circl...

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Also by Robert C Gaulke:

Another Thing Again | Content | Playing Adults | Miss Stoic | Ex-introverts | Dirty | pledge drive promises | Traveling with you | Like Snowden |

Mini tusk trunk

I was isolated in the undergrowth 

at the height of a precipice.

I was isolated and grasping a blade.

I was frightened and ready to kill

at any second. Then a Wise

in a shiny, glossy cloak appeared

on the path and said not to be scared

but to expose myself, so I did.

Tentatively we creeped along the road

and came to a mirror pool with dirt. 

There was a small, mini tu...

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Also by Natfastic:

Strangers | Scuttle Pincer | It's working | Cosmopolitan brightness |

Relationship karma

Let’s say it was a winter Thursday afternoon

like any of the million winter Thursday afternoons

when I’d come home from work

just after you’d come home from work

and you’d gone over to the window

by the silent stereo sitting in the corner,

to close the curtains, to close out the torrid day.

I was standing in the doorway with my old brown coat still on

but this Thursday even...

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Also by David T Jones:

Wistful @ Wittering | Beatification and snacks |




I’m hard-up, poor

I look it

So I keep my head down

And shuffle, carefully not touching

Beautiful, clever people:
They must be

Beautiful and clever

To be so rich


Thank God – - -

Is there one? – - -

I’m not yet about to

Sit outside McDonalds

With an open cap

And a dog


Summer’s good: nice and warm.

Winter’s better.

I’m shamed.


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Also by Dorinda MacDowell:

Her Present Darkness |

Italy dreams / the nowhere poems


Her young heart

fell to her feet,


like an

over ripe fig 

from a

swollen tree

in a meadow.


the weight was 



the season

was right 

the taste 

of harvest 

was aching 

upon her lips.


she would

of given anything 

for the taste 

of something 

or someone unlike 

anything that

she had

ever known.



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Also by david patrick simon:

The muse / the nowhere poems | Patty's magic bus / the nowhere poems | Full turn / the nowhere poems | Awake again / the nowhere poems |


Tell me - who's your equal in terms of "health"?

Tell me - who's your equal in terms of "wealth"?

Tell me - who's your equal in terms of "living"?

Tell me - who's your equal in terms of "giving"?

Tell me - who's your equal in terms of "gain"?

Tell me - who's your equal in terms of "pain"?

Tell me - who's your equal in terms of  "caring"?

Tell me - who's your equal in terms of ...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


i am very far

but here is a softness

bruised knuckles brushing ears of wheat

a slight refrain

a ponderous disintegration of viola and clarinet

and gregor woke one morning as something alien

a mystery, clad in chitinous jade and with feelers, many eyes

could i be this burden to you?

a cloud passes the window

something pillow-like, nebulous

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Like a moth to a flame

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Myself I have to blame
After declaring“I have severed
Our relation, intolerant to
Her theatrical and self-seeking love game!”
Back to square one, under
The pretext of sympathy, of course,
Buckling under her sight and voice
I acted the same,like a moth to a flame!

Though my siblings and friends
Advised, “A leech, if she has no other intent
Then, inconsiderate, she'll bleed you dry

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Also by Alem Hailu G/Kristos:

What a lesson? | Psychological dome |


bittercukoldfoolloveunfaithfulwasted lives

Before dawn

Before dawn.


All the locking mechanisms went missing and the guns have vanished along with them.


Fumbling-dumbfounded-investigating the metal loops where pins used to hold secure--but now the doors have vanished too!


The crisp, grey winter air bites like growing alarm and there a beautiful female figure takes slow shape from the desolate wood; encompassing what once was an ...

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Also by Brent Cameron:

One | Free |

Sadie Davidson - council home and silent

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Council House and Silent" is the raw and unsettling debut spoken word album from urban performance poet and poetry slam champion Sadie Davidson on Spoken Label.

Recorded at home in her airing cupboard after spending months in a hostel with her partner and two small children, "Council House and Silent" is a truthful, heartbreaking and highly provocative window in to life in Britain's underclass.


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I am done, undone

Like the top three buttons of your checked shirt

Showing a hint of hair which excites me

Like meat on bone, meat

Between your thighs

Done, bored, over

Stay away, please?

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Also by Parul:

Mean |


She who seeks shall find,

Tasting the fruit of essence

She becomes alive!


O wild wombman, I see the passion

I see the stars in your eyes

The dreams, the hope -- hidden deep inside


It took a lot to bring you forth,

Shedding the layers, I so carefully placed around me

Breaking down the walls, exploring myself

Deeper and Deeper


Then I realized,

You are ...

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Also by Gabrielle Renee':

Untitled |

The Sound that Destroyed a Room

Bing bang boom 

The lie was discovered in the room

Bing bang bong

All those that believed are gone 


What once was said can not be renewed 

Let this be a lesson for all of you 

The danger was not with the truth 

But instead the darkness that consumes 


Filling you up with your thoughts and connecting those imaginary dots 

Instead of floating higher, your pulled d...

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Also by AmyLogan:

The “Great” War |

Monochrome Secret

Known only through shadow 

to your light

Through the clearness seen

Perceived from

where others 

view secrets through glass eyes

thoughts to the past


future events to

Colour the  monochrome

with knowledge

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Death of Belief | cut copper | Seeping River | pigeon |

Leaving Upton Park

Sometimes we’d win and we’d all go berserk.
But the bubbles have burst since we left Upton Park.
Hurst, Peters and Moore, an honest days work.
Sometimes we’d win and we’d all go berserk.

Sometimes we’d lose and we’d all rant and rave.
A tear up on the terraces, give the enemy a shave.
“West Ham until I die, until I’m in the grave.”
Sometimes we’d lose and we’d all rant and rave.

“But we’...

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Also by Ralph Dartford:

At the Arts Council in Manchester | If I Could Take A Day |

The Humble Heart of the Craftsman

I have always hankered after the life of the artist - including the world of the visual arts. In retirement I have the opportunity to follow that yearning.


The Humble Heart of the Craftsman


As corruption sheds its sting when seen

from lofty heights,

so humility shows its mettle

in the steady care of the gifted creator;

turning one's gaze from skilled hands

to the thi...

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Also by Chris Hubbard:

The Quiet Soldier | Pavane | Tone Poem | The Imperfect Gardener | Sun - Kings |



Winter from a Window

The empty stems of the fennel

Under umbrella heads of raindrops

Are perches for the waiting birds


The grey green sage leaves

Glow crystal white in the frost


Moss grows where the branch

Leaves the trunk of the bonsai

Its ruddy leaves falling


Amongst the yellowing leaves

A single crimson rose bud perishes


Yellow leaves have fallen from the dogwood


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Also by Chris Armstrong:

Parallel Echoes of Love | Ancestral | Three Haiku | Microcosm | Zen Reflexions | Above the Valley |



Autumn Capriccio

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Autumn Capriccio


In the rain, see again the paling palate there,

On poplar tree, stick thin, bows all feather flared.

Edges which North-Wind rustle-tussle to dainty shimmer.

Lingering, the varnished drops of umber glimmer.

In every breath, a florid flood of clusters pour,

Earth’s face they grace, each freckle placed, upon the floor.


The bleak break, in Heaven’s name....

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Also by Beno:

Family Vine | Treasure Island |

To Poets, Thanks For Everything, Julie Newman, Sorry, James

Where starts

this obsession?

Surrounded by words, lines,

How can one just explain all these




Under Milk Wood,

Or Armitage, perhaps.

At school with War poets, Shakespeare,




prose with the late,

Great Brautigan. Hearing

McMillan's radio programme,

The Verb.



poetry’s Peel?

Does poetry's appeal


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Also by James Dust Jacket:

Rose Tips/Undesired Destination |

The Waiting Man

A man told me if you can wait for love 
Then you truly love them 
Well a year has past by now
I can say I love her even more now

The waiting man will wait 
At the waiting Tower
Just to stop time to 
Hold her one more time

I don't need a promise to do this 
It always been willingly
I know all good things are worth waiting for
So why wouldn't I wait for her
She made me the happiest I...

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Also by Damon Blackery:

Letter To April | Not Alone | Good Morning Sunshine | Forever Girl |



I remember her eyes

ever gone a grip sudden regret

I never wanted to go I tripped can't forget

Still absent in a void once you were there

long hair across my face  you made me aware

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Families at War

Sit tight, keep quiet

keep still, no lights

No emotions, no tears

no rows, no fights

Avoid confrontations

in a tin pot shelter

As hearts are beating



A belief in the mask

around necks to protect

but in reality a token

of advice misguided

and broken

with instructions

to lessen the panic

amid all the destruction 


Blacked out, s...

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Also by Fred Varden:

The Place of Dreams? | Vicious Cycle | COLOURS | Hideaway | Talking Eyes | Friends Prominent | Parenting for Dummies | Is there a nurse in the house? (Audio) | THE SCAM |



In the sponge of fog and lamplight,

the amber umber and a Sunday roast;

I am safe in the jungle, at last, I feel her

hurting and kick leaves, I drop my can of

petrol and caffeine unthinkingly and keep

walking, this is the one place that doesn’t mislead

but does present the dichotomy of a dozen misdeeds a minute;

the graffiti’s image gratifies, it satisfies that lesser men...

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Bleeding Obvious Haiku

it is what it is

let me explain this further

we are where we are


© Graham Sherwood 11/2017

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Also by Graham Sherwood:

HAIKU or haiku | Falling Short | 2041 | Ghostwriting |


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I accused her of pinching my dinner

She said "you think you're a winner"

But how can I love some old schmuck.

Who can't even defend his crisp duck!


( for reference see `N'Shya....and me`......posted 9th July 2017)


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I don't know?

is a good place to be

it sets you free.

To know is like being

in a cell

no way to tell

what is


No need to make 

a big deal

out of life

when you don't have

the answers 

only questions. 

Which will be 

responded to with

I don't know?

Only a fool

knows it all. 

By Lynn Hahn

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November 2017 Collage Poem: Frozen

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Gossip is simmering internal fathoms deep

So crazy for you I’m petrified by love


Witches watch the children cry,

As the jazz man freezes at what is here,


The Tesco Ghost floats like a butterfly

But gets stung by a speeding lorry


Freezing weapons like bullets

Then swallows wanting to come home


Crazy one-upmanship,

Leaves no more to be said

Frozen in...

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Novemberstockport collage poem

For a moment (Lyrics)

I want to find myself lost in the panic of a moment

Want to feel my heart skip a beat

When I see the girl of my dreams - staring at me

Yeah - Staring - smiling - right at me


Yeah and the moment will feel so real - but it will be like a dream

And we’ll feel so light in our moment

Like we’re standing on the moon

Yeah like we’re standing on the moon


And it will be li...

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Also by 220August:

Seduce me | Missing you from me | Fall and Foster | Now Julie says man | When Our Song Becomes a Prayer | To Evona From Corbin |


lyricsRomantic poems

Show more entries …


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