Poetry Blogs (March)

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March 2019 Collage Poem - 'In the Wardrobe'

entry picture

Silence, echoes, look at the colours

And Distant Distractions

Minks and stoles all of this reminds me of you

 

Silver hunter's knife

Overseer left mute

Soiled aliens desperate in Heaton Moor

Park stumble on a Mel

Brooks look-a-like

 

Inside the man bag, inside the wardrobe

Inside the mind, a voice, a naked voice

Lost in the wardrobe, he looked for 

Dead bodie...

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collage poemmarchStockport write out loud

Winter Town

This is my vision of a certain cast of English village (not so much in springtime).

Winter Town

 

March winds stir listless eddies,

fluke in tired gusts over thin pools,

flare through fields of stubble

then flag, exhausted, sour and wheezing

from the blowing day;

coughing, rubbing arthritic fingers,

cold as a church bell sounds the hours.

 

Spring will be late this...

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arthriticexhaustedMarchmemoriesmonochromemournerssingingstormsstubblesun-filledthunder

March

Two months of getting nowhere fast
Of being mired in mud;
In need of respite
In need of hope
 
Then,
In the furthest corner of my right eye
Out on the flank
I see something gleaming;
A glimpse of something bold
With a whisper of promise
And a whiff of sweat and steel
 
March is striding in
Bringing a fresh strong arm
A sharper blade
A stronger shield
 
And with his ...

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Marchspring

Exile - March Collage Poem

entry picture
 
Numbers lost tutting in a happy mode
Lost for words but is nice to see you all
One, two, three bloody Mary
Has burnt that toast again
Seeing your face light up
When you see mine
 
A shining beam pierces the darkness
Stallions taking you on a chariot ride
Watching animals at Belle Vue
 

Three two one and the bullets are all gone. 

 

 

 

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Collage PoemMarchStockport Write Out Loud

The Last March

He sits on the front porch, And just closes his eyes. As the clouds gather over his head, And lightning flashes across the skies. His mind reverts; Back to all of yesterday's severed ties, He can hear in the distance, The faint murmur of muffled sobs and cries. His lips move not; his speech has since died, His eyes however, remain ever pensive. And even a cursory g...

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