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WOLOP for November

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Dzien dobry folks!  We have come to that popular time of the month again where everyone gets to know just who won the most coveted prize on WOL ��" of course, Write Out Loud Outstanding Poem of the Month!

November saw the posting of some 352 blogs ��" a fascinating mixture of prose, advertising, pornography and arguably - some poetry…

 

Thirteen people voted and happily some even managed to ...

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WOLOP.nov

....

My mind is full of clocks

Ticking away,

Out of sync

Keeps reminding me

Of the pressures,

Of the restraints

That wait for me

Every single day

That keep me from sleep

 

 

My mind is full of clocks

Ticking away

Out of sync

All broken,

Gathering dust

But If I try to fix this,

If I try to push my voice

Through the darkness

I’ll cut my tongue

On the cobwebs,

I will taste myself blee...

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WOLOP.nov

shapeless & transcendent

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I am shapeless, I am
transcendent, I am
moving through birdsong
as dawn gently breaks through
the clouds of my mind
I am weightless, I am
resplendent, I am
ecstatic to find
the keys that release
the mental chains that bind
I am boundless, I am
ever-present, I am
free to perceive
all that I am and all that is me
And all that I am
and all that is me
is the freedom to be
shapeless and transcendent,
weightless and fre...

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shapelesstranscendentWOLOP.nov

Under the Wire

Descending panting from the top
(where god is always in the lower case)
The wind bleached lichen
gives way to greener stuff.
We re-assert a modicum of breathless grace
and skirt the bog (why is such a vastness called a 'mere'?)
much as we skirt the subject
never managing to reach the nub of it.


At the bridge we part
before all our alibis expire.
In your face the rumour of a tear
and I am just a hank of woo...

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WOLOP.nov

DARK ART

 

The wind blows wild as Rooks explode

In buffeted delight.

Spreading their wings into the squall

In roistering, reckless flight.

Their swirling tangled dance of joy

Proclaims a mastery

Of three dimensional excess

And death to Gravity.

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WOLOP.nov

The Sons

 

The coil of summer is spent and in the cold, we bruise;

a roll of litmus papers, tears acidic in the night. 

Here death knuckles, grit bites - the fever of our jaws as we repent

 

our steadfast boots, our gallant wooden toys, our rampant

springs of duty. We swallow hard and taste the theft

with every buckle around our waist

 

and every scar stitched onto o...

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WOLOP.nov

Love Me Until the Morning

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Love me until the morning

 

Love me through the easel and canvas of your day

Love me to your everywhere

Love me into the singsong of your smile

Treasure my moments

Moments of madness

Given up like a child

Love me through my kissing

Kisses that fall to you like mist stingle hangs upon a leaf

Kisses like two swans upon still water

Wear me close to your dream

Watch the which way of my...

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WOLOP.nov

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