Poetry Blogs (raucous)
Brian Blanchard on RACIST? (3 hours ago)
A memory of a small but unforgettable part of London.
Walking down to Camden Lock
with colour and fizz all around
on a warm August day:
narrow boats, top hats and silk scarves,
old pubs, rent boys, spruikers;
The Regent's dark canal,
people-watchers. Music like jewels.
Such is the raucous silence
Thursday 15th March 2018 4:02 am
Almost drowned in it
Just you name it
I’ll have tried
Been traumatised by it
Reduced to tears by it
Laughed and cried
Wished I hadn’t bothered s...
Monday 24th June 2013 4:00 pm
Cry we all toward places unnamed
Rise above the crested hills
Yell we will - shattering door frames
Plundering thoughts of plovered wills
Tear at the wallpaper - reveal the grain
Ink the slate - etched by wound-dipped quills
Crouch, prowl - ready to pounce on game
Brandishing swords, blaring trumpets shrill
Arching backs, phosphorescent wicks aflame
Ridding netted fish o...
Sunday 19th December 2010 2:32 pm