“Normality is a paved road:

it’s comfortable to walk,

but no flowers grow on it.”

Vincent Van Gogh.

The path that I choose is oft times, a rough one,

but better by far than the sterile paved desert:

yes, oft times I’ll stumble and sometimes I’ll fall,

but what use is certainty, knowing it all?

A better path’s found, as an old way is...

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SAOIRSE CAINTE !

🌷💐💗💪🌷

SAOIRSE DON KNEECAP!

💐💗💪🌷💐💗 💪

SAOIRSE DON PHALAISTÍN !

💐💗💪🌷💐💗 💪🌷

MO SHEACHT MBEANNACHT ORT, PHALAISTÍN !

💗💪🌷💐💗 💪🌷 💐💗💪🌷💐💗

MO SHEACHT MBEANNACHT ORT, KNEECAP !

🌷💐💗💪🌷💐💗💪🌷💐🌷💐💗

MY SEVEN BLESSINGS ON YOU, KNEECAP !

💪🌷💐💗💪🌷💐💗💪🌷💐

CAPALL NA BEATHA AN GRÁ, KNEECAP !

💪🌷💐💗💪🌷💐💗💪🌷💐

LOVE MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND, KNEECAP !

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Every room I enter feels like a stage, and I’m the actor that forgets the lines 
The constriction gnawing in my throat as I feel the acid burn 
I see their faces alight with joy, reeling in echoes of my defeat 
I bat my eyes, look to the floor with crumbling hands, the nails bitten off 
If only I could peel away the skin of doubt and wear something lighter
Tear away the facade of perfection t...

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Through the eyes of a stranger,
I walk the crowded streets,
My thoughts hidden behind
A façade of indifference.
Always writing under breath
Each step the rhythm of a song

I listen for the murmurs,
The stories left half-told,
And with borrowed breath,
I weave their words into verse,
A silent chronicler,
Of lives intertwined.

Beneath the surface of each face,
A universe of fe...

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Why do poets ponder

The birds of the air...

For their beauty, their freedom, their song?

Why do they find peace in asking

Questions that begin with why?

Why are they so willing to share

The inner most part of their soul,

Hidden in symbolic mazes

With hedges high?

I guess what I'm really asking

Is why do I?

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While most other birds sing a duet,

Or with a chorus hidden up in a tree,

There's a little bird that sings loud and proud, 

Alone, but in harmony.  

This little bird sings outside my window,

While the rest of the birds are asleep. 

This little bird sings with depth and conviction,

While others can only dream.

Where does it find the courage 

To stand alone and sing?

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Disappeared poets,

Disappeared poems,

Disappeared talents,

Disapproved of poets,

Disapproved of poems,

Disapproved of opinions,

Disapproved of words,

Jumped?

Pushed?

Fucked off in disgust?

Who cares?

Do you?

Why?

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We are the lovers
of this kaleidoscope
this ride we’re on
As we twist, we write
of the myriad colours
the fireworks dazzling our eyes
of tears, tantrums, seering sunsets
the veins in leaves
the storms between people
beautiful and terrifying
all at once

We are the lovers
of words on lips
their taste on tongues
and turns of phrase, delicious
The flick of nib on paper
the trail of i...

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https://youtu.be/iTV6F3lTU7o

The accompanying video is of Emma Kirkby (an old family favourite of ours) singing “Dido’s Lament”  by Henry Purcell. It’s one of the saddest pieces of English music I’ve ever heard, and so, is most appropriate.

I’ve modelled my poem around Dylan Thomas’ “Do not go gentle into that good night”, on the premise that the night we currently face is not, in any sense ...

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To a Fellow Artist

It’s often asked: wherein does beauty lie,

In mystery bound, proportions magical,

Deciphered only by the observer’s eye,

Or in some poet’s words deemed lyrical?

I know that beauty’s not in sparkling dross,

Perfection is for fools; an empty frame,

In masterpieces, lines are found and lost,

And here, in life’s chiaroscuro lives a flame,

A caring smi...

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I can go miles 

with someone believing in me.

So, speak into existence, 

those words I need.

I’m not kidding,

or play acting a pose,

this isn’t a hobby,

it’s me you see, exposed.

My time is here, and

I don’t want to stop.

Give me that shout,

dissolve my doubts.

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Poem scribbled into my phone

   is my best and new number one.

Can’t believe I’m so in the zone,

   where in space did that come from?

Hit me with extraordinary pace,

   ideas strident, in avalanche flow,

   filling the bright white open space,

   the right words set up to glow.

Me witness to growing perfection,

   and conduit without choice.

Happens so rare...

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I, poet, may write of love

and in that moment feel

a meaning clear:

yet my soul knows love

my hand will never pen

You, reader, read that word

and think to know my mind  

              I say you cannot know the love

my heart placed behind that word, only

your sense of the love you thought you saw

The poet can never truly speak

and have his reader k...

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So, fellow poets, Rwanda’s safe…isn’t it?

Tell that to our friend, Innocent Bahati,

The Kigali school teacher, whose words are illicit,

And offensive to Rwanda’s high and mighty.

Come on, you poets, do you fancy a visit

To Rwanda to tell Bahati: it’s safe!

Well you can’t, because Bahati’s simply, disappeared,

Desaparecido, as Thatcher’s generals would say.

Worldwide, one h...

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“Comment is free…
but facts are sacred”,
an ed. once said.
But I’m fact-free,
and my prejudice naked,
when things are said
with which I don’t agree.

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh

4th July 2023

PEN International calls on the Rwandan authorities to urgently come clear and publicly account for the whereabouts of poet Innocent Bahati who has been missing since 7 February 2021.

https://www.pen...

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Merseyside poets and musicians performed their environmental anthology last week at Liverpool’s beautiful Victorian Palm House in Sefton Park. Led by Michelle Wright, Barry Woods and Ali Harwood, the event covered ocean pollution, global warming and rainforest reduction, with contributions from many local poets and some first time writers from local schools.

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Words from poet's past flow through me

their stories live on through reverberating echoes.

Tales as old as time bouncing off pages into reader's

minds, then from their lips

not into god's ears but into mine.

Things fall apart by Chinua Achebe

a literary goldmine waiting to be explored. 

Writers weaving together linguistic 

art, masterpieces so intricately 

resonant, you'...

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Do not curse at the clocks

Time will not stand still

Do not shout at the rocks

They are not stronger

Than their stone hearts

Do not get angry at the mirror

Their ugly face beats the error

Of all your good deeds

There is an evil in them

Stronger than the storm

And the hurricane never ends...

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The whistle of the wind
And the fate twisted and twined
Under the dark filled with gems
We made love and made other condemns

Mumbling crickets sang their song
And the croaking frogs composed their poem
The endless sky; glimmering yet bright
With you here feelings were delight

The moment and time stood still
And the world was ours to give
Soft tongue and eyes filled with jewel
Is not...

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Reminisced the golden beams of Sol that reflects to your iris
An episode of time that we wandered aimless
Cuddles like a meerkat, we were one like a chorus
Envisages our future and stamped our initials on the tree of eucalyptus

The windy day and the descending star in stretch
We danced with the field of wild flowers and we kissed in french
The caw of the birds as our audience
to our story...

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Dancing in the background of lilac petal
Sapphires surrounds and shined with a vendetta
Gasping the puff of space dust
Walking in thin air, together with the seeping blood lust

Near, yet too far
Celestial bodies barreling towards with no fuss
Words spoken in the pages of grimoire
Unfurled by the curious gust

Synchronized by the effects of cosmic dust
The choreographed pirouette of the...

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Strumming the strings of fate
Moving in maelstrom against the natural order of destiny
As the strings lengthen, I’m in stalemate
To counter, to flow, or to simply be

I stand in the space of the night
Looking up, stars staring back
Looking back, decisions stand for condign smite
Still seeking for the perfect tune by a mere playwright

Choices have been chosen, Decisions have been decided
...

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Tainted words are like shadows

Amid your weak sunny days

Tainted dreams are like the mud

On your black patent leather shoes

You cannot walk towards your hope

Having these sorrowful feet

And with a barefaced kind

Of friend hidden on your mind

Tainted whispers are like a curse

With the promises you've broken

Maybe a thousand times

A sudden storm taints the breeze

...

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The tears cannot put out

The burning question of the heart

What a bizarre fire you have

As no one can see your flame

Deep down in your heart

Maybe we should sing a song

To let us not  go wrong

Once again with unanswered questions

The lyrics are so stuck in violence

That they are drifting us apart

Deep down in our bleeding heart

The empty space is not big enough

...

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A brand new anthology of Christmas poems has been launched as a Facebook project.

‘A Mersey Christmas’  features work by local poets who frequent the spoken word poetry circuits around Birkenhead and Liverpool, and is available to read free.

Curated by Wirral poets Barry Woods and Michelle Wright the collection is their fourth creative writing project and a Christmas gift to the people of th...

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Poets from Merseyside have started to reignite the art of live performance with a series of eight spoken word events around the Wirral Peninsula.

The Wirral Poetry Festival has emerged from its online only status and has been back in the community over the past weeks celebrating the run up to National Poetry Day 2021 on Thursday.

On Sunday West Kirby Arts Centre hosted a green even...

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The World in Lockdown People's Poem is now part of the RLB 360 Capsule of Culture, which remembers the year 2020 and its defining moments.

The project was chosen by a judging panel of local and Liverpool-born celebrities.

Thanks to everybody who shared their words last year.

The time capsule will be stored in the Royal Liver Building permanently from today.

A big thanks to my co-creato...

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As a writer (I still shy away from the title poet at times) I often find myself in a dilemma, one to which the vagaries of my mind tutor the torment. The unravelling of meaning of poems – is it meant to be a test that makes you feel inadequate at the best of times?

I have often sat and read something and then wondered “what the hell have I just read? It makes no sense at all. Why must poets do ...

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inspired by The Last Night of Your Trip

on the train ride home 
your smile flashed between buildings, 
lights flickered and i couldn’t tell 
if it was the spark in your eye 
or the streetlights beaming 
onto the dark streets. 

i saw your smile and your hand
reaching for mine, 
those bedroom eyes 
that whispered “bring me 
to your hotel.” 

we weren’t made for cheap 
sex, we were ...

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Come close if you must, 

to my heart of rust. 

Taste my sorrows

of ash and honey,

beneath the illusion 

of love and money. 

After the show, 

your life’s a mess, 

you’ll fall in line 

with the rest.

. . .

It’s not too late, 

to change your fate.

Turn away from a life 

of heartbreak.

What you seek 

is found within,

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In the shadow of sleeping Kings, 

soldiers, and poets, 

comes another battlefield day,

man against man, invisible wars,

hell’s fury unleashed among trees. 

Yet, upon the rocky shore,

angels dance and sing,

reminding us there is something more

than misery.

Beauty glints among broken things. 

Hope is on the horizon. 

So on these solemn days, 

let us find something...

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A bow to The Poetry King,
who thinks he doesn't 
mean a thing 
in the grand scheme.

Wears his heart 
on stained sleeve,
makes paupers feel
like royalty.

Waxes poetic about 
life, love, and history
that would otherwise remain 
unsolved mysteries.

More than just a dream,
The Poetry King
lives eternally,
in you and me. 

https://youtu.be/0FT3SmZ_zx0

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A magenta sky 
greets my morning sigh.

Another majestic day, 
lost in the minutia of life.

Shoulda, coulda,woulda,
paralyzing dream sabers. 

Distractions abound.

Download another book,
refresh the poet's page.

Escape, behind a waterfall
of tears.

Long nights,
paved years. 

Fandango memories
sustain me. 

Resilience 
prevails.

Dry your eyes,
face your fears.

Wr...

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The Poetic Bond X - calls for submissions - up to four poems on any subject, in any form, and of any length (120 lines in print + weblink).  

So far 623 poems from 223 poets have been published in The Poetic Bond Series.  The Poets of The Poetic Bond come from all over the globe, from the US to Malaysia, the UK to the Lebanon, with ages ranging from 14 to 86, exploring themes of love, life, age...

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All the words to say
The sad ones
The lonely ones
The happy, grateful ones
The mad ones
The ones that circulate through you 
But never leave your lips
They rage out onto paper 
For all to read
But the ones closest to you
Will never see
These words escape you effortlessly 
Words poured out late at night
Words splayed out for others in the light of day
Words that others will relate
Wo...

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I snuggle up to your virtual feet, 

raring to read

your magical poetry,

that makes me purr, 

like a cat in heat. 

There is no need to wine or dine me.

Just string a poetic line,

I’ll be yours until the end of time. 

###

https://youtu.be/0KSOMA3QBU0

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Poetry is my 
drug of choice,

calming rain, 
rays of sunshine. 

an antidote 
to suffering,

waltzing words
on lonely nights,

my lost lover 
whispering
in my ear,

release, 
of fear,

wind beneath
birds in flight,

illuminating 
light,

immortality...

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You think you can 
break my heart
without breaking 
your own?

We are one. 

Your tears 
are my tears.
My tears stream 
down your face.

Interwined energy,
we try to escape,
but it keeps pulling us back 
to this silent space.

You turn away,
nothing to say,
rue the day.

I laugh through the tears, 
because I know we will be 
bound again for years, 

lifetimes...

Our des...

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It was 1990 when we met,

before we were who we were.

The nineties were running through sprinklers

in summer,

playing whiffle ball in the yard,

popsicles,

make-believe games, stick horses,

and dances to Green Day.

The 2000s were much the same,

with crushes, dear diaries,

womanhood, and makeup

sprinkled about like the dandelion seeds

we used to blow into...

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Standing your turf
wielding a giant pen.

Power serving words,
determined to win. 

Into the net,
foot-faulted
out of bounds,
disqualified.

Will you be the 
pinnacle of calm
or pull a McEnroe? 

Steady your pace
or steamroll every 
opponent you face?

Time tames 
the temper
as many 
professionals
know. 

Love,
match point,
grow. 
 

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Forever ago may seem 
like 20 years of gray,
but I live forever every day.

There is no escape.

It's not the passion I miss,
I keep that memory sealed 
in a concrete kiss.

It's the lyrical 
soul connection
that went on months

before our egos
got in the way. 

In the forever between
tears and heartbreak, 

we managed 
to find ourselves 

and our destiny, here 
on this pag...

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The razor thin space between 
stimuli and response 
is decision. 

I decided to put a  
romcom relationship
where love never ends
and be, just friends. 

It was a defining decision.

He decided that without 
certain stimuli, there would be 
no response, just an end.

Tempting as it is to give in
to conditioned responses,
I'm riding the razor's edge
into a new frontier...

A pla...

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There's many things behind poetry that is still a mystery today. Why does it make us feel a certain way when certain words are placed together? Is it that it's relatable? Nostalgic? Reassuring? I know many people that don't enjoy poetry and many that do. Why is that? Are those that dislike it close-minded? Does it show they haven't been through what the poem is implying, therefore they can't relat...

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https://youtu.be/ZYTq97CreoQ

To all you writers and poets out there.

Thank you for your words of courage, 

words of truth,

words of encouragement

and nourishment.

Thank you for your solidarity,

for lifting us up.

Thank you for breaking ground,

cutting the edge,

standing on that soapbox 

with daring and drive,

having the nerve to shout out

what many ...

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To discern

                our place

To commune

To see

                beyond our close shadow of death

To focus

                my poet mind

I need direction

                a qibla

Or some beads to tell

                to take refuge from my life:

A candle flame

Only the candle

Flame

Flickering.

A journey into quietude

                begins

Int...

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Time heals 

but I put my time 

in an ice cube 

and now global warming 

struck and the feelings 

have been let loose

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By Alem Hailu

The poem below decrying war was written by Lithuanian poet Salomeja Neris when her country was invaded by Nazi Germany. By way of showing how it is possible to explicate a narrative poem and invite readers reread the poem and grasp the meaning I will explicate her poem Spring as follows.

Spring

I Spring

Once again will lilac sing,

And brooks will babble, brooks, w...

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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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