Poetry Blogs (Poem)

What We Do

For Paul

Writers write and painters paint but artists don’t art

and musicians don’t mu. 

Bikers bike and drivers drive, blimps go limp

but coupes don’t coup.

Coiffeurs coif, hairdressers dress hair,

but nail techs don’t nail techs (or perhaps they do).

Fighters fight, professors at times profess

but hatters don’t hat and surgeons don’t surge.

If you w...

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A heavy rain pressing staccato against the bedroom window

droplet snakes chase each other down to the collected pool on the dimpled lid of the wheelie bin

Inside
we are dry
we are warm

The incense stick meditates it’s aroma throughout our space
the smoke caressing our senses like an ethereal concubine
virgin candles of pink and white cast our silhouettes on the mandala that hovers ove...

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I’ve seen you enveloped in passion

Entranced and wandering aimlessly

In all consuming lust as you fold

Into taut skin stretched over

A well-tuned bicep shimmering

With the sweat of ones who

Would possess you,

Confiscate your love,

Loyalty, lust, passion, devotion,

Breasts, lips, thighs,

And even your new mountain bike.

I’ve seen you capitulate to complete

S...

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I might make you laugh, but I might also make you cry,
I might give you answers or make you question why.
I can look so serious or sound really quite absurd
I am divine unseen pen pictures designed to be heard.
I will make comparisons to shine a light inside your heart
I’ll begin our stories with with an epilogue or end them near their start.
My language can be quite colourful, yes I have be...

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Take me to the woods to rip out my soul -

Kill me and bury me in a deep, dark hole.

Kiss me,

Drunkenly,

In abandoned houses,

Listening to my heart scream -

Drowing out the loudness.

Photos forever of jumping trampolines,

And a mother suffering silently,

Mentally.

Sleeping on the floor with the sick kittens -

Wondering where I put the sandwich I bit in

Which tree...

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The rolling of the curtains,
Shimmering silvery black,
In an instant woke me up,
Stretched 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,
Body laid and tied on the bed,
Pushed and pulled in seven, eight, nine.

Patiently watching the...

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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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Don’t think
Take it
Blithe
Legal Aid and alcohol

*(Copyright is mine. Please contact me if you want to use or perform any of my poems.)

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I hooked onto the face of a psychopath executing flagellation
ate his lobster raw
and its eyes for his eyes
his damp face from my white meat spit
elastic banded claws dropped on embroidered brogues
in Monaco gamblers we trust
rise over here and I’ll hammer you

*(Copyright is mine. Please contact me if you want to use or perform any of my poems.)

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Renegade living, after the Vietnamese boat-boy was beaten, after motorcyclist came looking, after steel toe-capped boots and a hammer threat, after a nearly ended dad by caged bird
Forty miles from the sea he shouted about a broken car window handle, never onto manipulations or abortions
Too tight squeezes later, tax man and his vice girl with the lost dog lie
By nervous accident, same place, f...

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Words melt into

hours

of

flowers

flowing

freely

familiarity

unexpected

but

embraced

left with

possibilities

hopes

dreams

of

tomorrow.

by Lynn Hahn

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That August day

made me pray

for MERCY!

My head was pounding 

like a woodpecker on

a metal roof

Could hardly see

my eyes were strabismic

I reached...

in my disarranged

medicene cabinet

in my dim

bathroom

pulled out the first

pill box

my quavering hands touched

I squinted my confused eyes

to examine the fine print

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Yes

Youth once again

beats in my heart

With the mystery of you

The man of my dreams

comes to me in words

on a page

So sweet and tender

Yes

I surrender 

to you my sweet one

I will walk the path

of innocence once again

With you...

First kiss

flirting eyes

My breath

taken away

I would love to take

your words away

with my beauty

My silhoue...

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Eleven antemeridian house breaker, home wrecker
Now she’s rubble left, sustaining all her more, all her less
Memorial tumbler with a three-quarter up-ring on a bedside table
She’d got to the point, of a hanging frame off bone arrangement, but can still take real, the outside, real weather, God placed it on her neck
Outside to a whitening wilting life, with a cheap bus ticket, would-be liar to ...

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Talking Asperger in Holland’s gutter
women for men
man-hiding in scab wombs
smell the dad perfume
childlessness disease
restless rights and south paws breaking Pentagon’s cyber world
devise numerical love

*(Copyright is mine. Please contact me if you want to use or perform any of my poems.)

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Precipitation within sight
Rain, drizzle, mizzle
Soft weather, mucky weather
‘The Smoky Smirr o Rain’
Liquid sunshine
Slow words, gentle
But it was spitting this morning
Pitter patter, splash, splish, splodge, squelch
And it bucketed down last night
A torrent,  raining cats and dogs
Not a light soaking rain
Squalling, hailing and sleeting
Flooding, flowing, swamping
A deluge chucking ...

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A paradox
Of expressions
And concealment.

An escaping
From the deepest
Hole of the self.

An adventure
To the quest for
Liberation.

A hiding place
Through metaphors
And similes.

Like a dungeon
Waiting the key
To be unlocked.

 

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The dog stole my scrumptious donuts a-waiting,

And on school days, my thinker never worked the long haul

Then fate decided to reveal my bowling prowess

Before it flung me four-score a-gutterball.

*

Is it my fault I needlessly negotiate with math?

Or school days proved me a sitting duck?

Even if genes came into play,

I blame humanity’s ups and misgivings on luck

*

Luck...

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A wistful vagueness presides over my aura

The night was clearer than ever

Now wasn’t the time,

Now I was headed to a service sublime

But do I regret these impressions viewed from my window?

Never

This ‘ere song from a vintage past

It crooned of simpler days,

It blasted my hopes into the freezing air

Carried me back to a time that wasn’t there

And I couldn’t help ...

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Players
Romeos
still twentieth century visits
Camp Majesty
bending tungsten
satin sash title fighter hooks
smoking green grass burners
uniting tight-fitting lap-sitting women
industrial tribunal metal pin tattoo brainwashed art  
money dragging gifted arm
Planet

*(Copyright is mine. Please contact me if you want to use or perform any of my poems.)

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The end of the season

Brought to a close

Even when there’s a reason

Summer comes and goes

Do you know your summer’s a-fading,

Do you remember?

The hot sun, the warm cooled nights waning

Into September.

School was gone, and I — carefree all along

Oh! Now my old school worries are back

As that sun sets, I’m in sad song

Those shining days, soon to lack

The air beco...

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Crinkle cut oven Glasgow
wet ozone
dark brown film lid on red and grey mortar
scaffold lips step by public print art diversity
second hand justice buses
Celtic with Rangers feet dancing to van chimes.

*(Copyright is mine. Please contact me if you want to use or perform any of my poems.)

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Present — past

Past — gone

Looking back and remembering the yesterdays

Is wrong.

*

Where is NOW?

Where is it?

Living in the THEN…

No, that’s not NOW, not it!

*

The ghost of yesterday

Is in mind

But looking back

Is the NOW you’ll never find.

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Black Boy Jerome
walking stop, walking stop, closed park nest
insecticide guttered blood lumps
realtor biting torchlight, thicker dollar pile rate rat room
squat sleeping, leaning broom, dirt bridge
ate pigeon error Wednesday
Ma note sticks about Black Boy’s bridge’s lynching arcs
shining knotted ironwork, rogue’s gum
waning bridge appeal, twists, turns, joints, worn rust
move on Winter
...

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Saw Sondheim’s ‘Fruit Juice of the Soul’
actor’s encore dip, tips, left and right and out to women like this, to men like that, the crimes of The Broadway Ripper
odd height couples in their Manhattan towers, I stored myself for a while, then star backed, from walking a three-week cold saunter
‘Where did he walk from?’
That was him, from LA, now fed-up in Western rent, getting sun’s burn, red a...

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 I visited my cousins in Russia

One summer vacation day,

And my conclusions during my stay

Turned out to be more than I could say.

*

What happened?

*

Older cousin surfs on laptop

Younger did that and ipod games too

Sister sticks to ginormous ipad

I skim online webs in hullabaloo!

*

What’s happening?!

*

Day after day, hour after hour

We’re caught in the ...

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Solitude is mysterious

Solitude is strange

It can feel bliss'd, but it can render

Every time, it can always range.

*

It's when time smites me wrong

Or I'm feeling depressed

I'd join a lonely room for company

And tell it how I was stressed.

*

But what if you can't stand it,

What if you're pining for just anyone?

Keep seeking; in a world founded on those who care,

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Borne of summer strolls untold

Into evenings where countless stories unfold

The road ahead was void of cars

And I alone played an orchestra to the stars

*

They shined their blessings from celestial seats

Meanwhile, I looked beyond perennial streets

Pondering clues for my desired path

For answers to a writer’s insatiable wrath

*

A scent, a sight, a cricket in the still...

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There was once a man,

charming in the flesh

He fell in love with a woman,

who he described her as a universe with the brightest stars.

She was his dream,

a dream that came close with his reality.

There was once a man,

bewitched with all.

He dare not speak,

for not to ruin all.

He cared for his beloved,

as if she was the heart of it all.

Until he met his dem...

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Red Lipstick

Standing in reverence of a mighty giant

his Nobel words remembered, this fan notes

exaggerated bat-like shoulders enhance his

thoughtful gaze - watching the Horseman?

Others have stepped up on Galway stone; held

those long, thin legs as they balance, head bent

to leave a lipstick imprint of their awe for him

on the space his left hand noncha...

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Securely tuck your fears under elastic

at the centre of your waist with your left hand,

and with your right, hold the remaining

metres of spun silk - your future, facing inside.

Measure the drop of the fall

and it’s finely stitched edge

for correct positioning against heels.

Wrap yourself in the gossamer fold,

swirling the diaphanous film behind

but stay level ...

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Martin Thinks I’m Catholic
With thanks to Andy N, for suggesting it

My father adored me.  He cuddled me in his arms 
after my birth and said, Doesn’t she look intelligent, love?

My mother believed I wasted that intelligence raising babies. 
I was relieved disappointment had no place in her grateful sigh,
as I arrived at the hospital in time to watch her die.

My brothers consider me...

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Hello guys! I'm new here... so please be nice :)

So I've decided to share with you my latest poem which I have titled "Love will conquer all". I decided to write this peom as a dedication to the recent attacks in my home-town London and in Manchester. I hope you enjoy.

Love will conquer all

We will not back down

We will all unite

We will join as one

And we will win this fight!

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relax,

now start breathing,

everything around is around for the same reason. 

Catastrophe, catastrophe its all the same feeling

i'm too old to move on, i'm too old to keep dreaming.

When to move on is to grow and to grow is not leaving,

in a promise land we grow, and speak of the same reason

we speak of heaven and hell like they're not the same demon.

Well to move...

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The Boffin

bookshops are like lovers 

they numb in black & white

then seduce you with colour

titillate and tempt your soul

until you finally let go

find the courage to close

the book ~ pages which leave

you gasping ~ the breath of air

on your face feels like a slap

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2004

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(I have the audio but can't seem to upload it here, it will only play on Soundcloud:  https://soundcloud.com/francesmf/turning-the-page?in=francesmf/sets/poems-2014-sounded )

Turning the Page

you were focussed

on study so I waited

peeking through the crack

watched you turn a page

rushed to kiss you quick

I twirled to leave, let you

get back to reading

but ...

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She’s got two part time jobs

and works her fingers to the bone

a single mum with no support from him

but she made that house a home.

Empty promises of child support

to help to feed her pack

every bloke she’s ever known’s

always fucked off and turned their back.

She doesn’t feel resentment

she never has the time

if she gets an hour to herself each day

she swears tha...

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Lakeside, I watch 

the Coots bouncing

on top of the water.

They throw their heads

with intention and abandon.

Plunging - immersing themselves.

I want to bounce,

immerse myself.

Plunge into you...

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2001

*Coots: small black waterbird related to Moorhens: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coot

(1st Pub. 'Hidden Capacity ~ a poet's jo...

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Without Wheels

Old-fashioned suitcases, the ones without wheels...

Such treasures themselves for the memories they held.

Skippered with no regard to a life-time of service,

disposed of - as I myself have been disposed of...

Perhaps a keen eye will fall over the rubbish bin’s wall

and take you home, give you a new life, if only

as under-bed storage.  Or repa...

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MR BOJANGLES

Like Mr Bo...

my heart jangles 

when your smile

misses your eyes.

The face of a clown

soft shoe shuffling

through my soul.

White hands clasped.

The generous frill

framing your mask,

flutters like a wing

across the circus tent

of my broken heart.

Funny shoes walk strong,

confidently skirting around

landmines of feeling

clothed in ...

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The silence is deafening

I'm not sure when the silence stopped being calming

At some point the comfort of quiet turned into a prison

It's not that there's no sound, not exactly

I think I just stopped listening 

Now I can't listen, even if I try

I think I just stopped remembering how

It's not that I can't hear, not exactly 

At some poi...

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Pages and pages of pink and pink
roses on dresses and slender chic drink,
All pictures pretty some might think
but none reflecting strength, and that's the thing:

Women's Day isn't all flowers and hearts
it's message shouldn't be limited before it starts,
we are more than our constituent parts
so today try to tear stereotypes apart -

Support our differences, our quirks,
you don't have...

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Captivate

Your eyes captivate my whole being 
How can something so simple be so beautiful 
Beautiful like the bluest waters in the Pacific Ocean 

Your eyes distract me from the horrendous occurrences in our society 

Beautiful can't even describe your being
Because beautiful is what you are 
And what you always will be

You captivate me 

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BOHEMIA (2)

It’s not about pain

although each graphic tale

was born of needles...

It’s not about regrets

although in retrospect,

there is always blame...

It’s not even about relationships

although painted stories

pay homage to my past.

It’s actually about celebration:

love - my constant companion

nature - inspiring motivation.

Frances...

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Broken mirror

good or bad

happy or sad

Take the pieces bury them 

in the moonlight 

or

Light seven candles

on the first night

That should take care of your plight

---

If you want to assure

you've found a good cure

Throw salt over your shoulder

then your situation will be secure

for that practice blinds the devil

behind your back

Naught...

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Flying fish wish to escape

their predators

They take flight

to avoid a fight

They'll never win.

---

They have special fins

that work as wings

Lifting them out of

the sunlight zone

Where most plants and animals

inhabit. 

---

They can glide

quite a distance

Providing them 

assistance

For their resistance

to their foes. 

---

Who knows 

ho...

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Two guests are in your heart

you can tell them apart

by what they desire.

---

Which will you feed?

---

The one who desires greed

or 

The one who desires to cater

to the ...needs

of others. 

By Lynn Hahn

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Looking back at life

like chapters in a book

I sit back in my senior years

with time to contemplate,

What seemed like the worst times

often added up to the best times

Now I have my last book

empty pages to be filled

I am thrilled to write

my last...story. 

By Lynn Hahn

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What looks like truth

often is not.

Looking thru the keyhole

often does not tell

the full story.

---

He had it all

we had little

but

We found joy in our little

he miserable with his all.

---

He stood in his Armani suit, pearly white teeth, Salvatore Ferragamo dress shoes

we in our Levis, dirty nails and tattered tennis shoes.

Our hearts full

his empty. 

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