My test results arrived today                               

They confirm what I've known for a while

That all my efforts have been in vain

Eating fruit and veg was futile

Exercise has been a waste of time

Grains, pulses, supplements...all useless

I can't stop myself dying

 

But I won't be dying anytime soon

I won't be shuffling off in the near future

I will however d...

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Footsteps hurry through the dark street

As amber glow spills onto the wet road.

Lovers stroll by hand in hand

I dream of their whispered words

Reaching the soul.

Their footsteps echo, sharp then fading away.

 

Rain falls again, blurring the scene.

A stray cat slinks through the darkness.

A dog barks in the distance, a lonely sound.

The wind sighs a creak through the w...

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Slabs of stone

Greet the morning sun

Or is it the Sun

That warms their cold

 

Thawing the shiver

Of their last moments

 

Bringing light to that tunnel

only to dim again at dusk-

So let’s keep the torch lit

Lest We Forget 

 

 

 

 

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She’s a kind of art,
A beauty with no bounds of imagery.

She shows up like a poem that doesn’t ask to be read,
Her beauty tucked away in quiet metaphors,
The kind not everyone’s meant to get.

She’s a poem with her own language,
Simple on purpose, hoping to be understood.

She’s a kind of beauty that protects.
In every little thing she says,
I learn what it means to be human.

"Moth...

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You barely uttered “ I love you”  on your way out,

And I hardly call that a kiss, we only skimmed each other’s lips,

Whenever I upset you, does a piece of me in you break off until there’s nothing left? 

Did your words "I'll always be yours" lose its meaning over a spat? 
 

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Dear friends!

                Please, read my poem in the comments.

                                                              Regards

                                                            Larisa

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I’ve just been brushing up my Shakespeare, having been inspired by JC’s post.

(With apologies to both GF Handel and Shakin’ Will).

Here’s a brief extract from a little-known scatological work, The Scent of a Madman.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the Jester's words: "The Trump it shall sound" are a reference to

the words of the Bible in 1. Corinthians 15:52.

G.F. Handel also allud...

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While this debate is at its height

I offer you a scoop tonight;

I shine a fresh revealing light

(Think me not knave nor jester!)

So let me end scholastic wait

For certes do I boldly state

The author was my great great great

Great great Uncle Fester.

 

His works they earned him some renown

But Fester’s titles let him down

Promoters would all groan and frown -

The...

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‘PICK ME UP’

Pick me up off the floor 

when I’m thrown out the door

For having one too many again

I lost count though after ten

   Pick me up when I feel down

When I’m depressed and all around

Seems dark and bleak and hopeless too

I guess I never got over you

   Pick me up on the things I say

When you want to get your own sweet way

To prevail and win the argument 

...

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One day, one day
We will sit on that bench 
under the lights 
Overlooking the river 
which you sweetly 
think is the sea

One day, one day
You will drown 
I will drown 
One day, one day 
I will drown you 
You will drown me
In happiness 
In smiling nuts
In pistachios 

That truck that’s travelled
all the way from Mexico 
on its way to the stores 
loaded with pistachios 
will cr...

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The metal’s falling

From the sky, like rain.

A warped ambition

Terrifies Ukraine,

As someone, somewhere,

Swells up with disdain,

While his practised sneer

Dishes out the pain.

And the world knows well

That he won’t explain,

But that, sure as hell,

He’ll be back again.

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you say the words

those killer words

that burst out

looking for a fight,

words that cut me

to the core,

words that bring

hurt to the boil,

tears to flow that

splash my shoes

and make blood flow,

and after as you

tend my wounds,

repair the damage

force the jinn

back in his box,

you’ll look at me

squarely in the eye

and mutter sorry

sorry...

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I believed you to be a rose in a field of weeds, only to find that wasn't what you were that's what I wanted you be.

-By.Me.

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Madman, no plan, fake tan

Own reflection, goes in one direction = small erection

Crackpot, despot, lie-a-lot

Inside trading, liberty taking, democracy baiting 

Commie kissing, wind pissing 

Ethnic cleansing, Nazi defending

Law defying, weird hair flying

Trumped up little

Star Spangled BLAGGER! 

 

(Well, if a president can rant like a hormonal teenager in public, ...

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When your closest friends
are dead
what's left to 
be said?
Nothing except
a fulsome regret.
We spend half our lives
speeding along the highways of desire,
putting our feet to the fire,
we luxuriate in time,
time laid up in store.
We think we know
what life is for.
Rich or poor.
We don't and never will.
Looking back I might as well
have lived with a sack over my head
unaware of th...

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How special you are

To have laughter that infects

Bottomless: it goes on and on

How magic you are

To make every day an art

To make life come undone

To make the mundane fun

To perk up everyone

And spread a mood

Like waves until the whole scene

Becomes your sea

How special you are

To capture the heart

Of a wild beast that

Saw life as being free

To make th...

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When blood blends with grit

that's an end to it. 

Hope dies in the sand

 

while the fingers of dead hands

reach out to the blast of bombs

while another world looks on

 

weighing up expediency

decisions far greater yet no nobler

than mere life or death. 

 

These are easily measured by the mile

under the eyes and ears of drones - 

in the meantime

 

whi...

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I'm a poet and I am poor
My head is full of words for sure
I spit out lines of pure pain
Happy thoughts now and again
When I think I have no more to say
Inspiration comes like a sunshine ray

I'm a poet and I am poor
An addict with no known cure
I have to write to keep me sane
Line upon line again and again
It's a form of therapy to unload 
I'm a tinder box about to explode

I'm a po...

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If all the world's a stage, my dear

Contrived words in scripted scenes

Voice and thought directed, my dear

Exit stage left, and follow your dreams

 

The lady doth protest, my dear

Maybe an unworthy cause

There before you, your future, my dear

Dominate life, act without a pause

 

If music be your food, my dear

Allow lovers' tunes to play

Object to pizzicato, my d...

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Under the viaduct

things are discarded,

where shadows fall heavy

before the night.

 

Echoes of victims

hauntingly silent,

two drunken strangers

desecrate a murder.

 

Last moments

absorbed in brick,

graffiti screams

where no-one sees.

 

Nonchalant commuters

thunder above,

everyone moving away

from you.

 

 

 

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What is it all about running around hoping things will all work out 

Is it too early to leave a note 

You see am tried the furniture scared me the present very much the same 

And for the past well its to early for that 

Does heaven hold a place for me or is this the last stop for a boy cried the blues 

Time will tell 

But when the time comes 

Tell her not to spare a tear for m...

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Her eyes, without fail,

always hinted at mornings,

around 10am, with French toast

on a tray ready to be enjoyed.

 

It took some time,

but I was fortunate to find someone

who’s look could cook like that.

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One Minute at a Time

 

There are no monsters here, really,

just alot of creatures clinging to life for their survival.

This is how we are wired apparently.

Every living being fears death,

loss of breath,

loss of nurture.

So our nature is to grab and grasp and not let go

because we are afraid of obliteration.

But is there a different way?

To thrive, should we just l...

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I wanted to be the Bob Dylan of Ealing, and make my mark,
as a disenchanted emigrant of that London borough,
but couldn’t play the mouth organ, and the guitar barely at all.

My old English da, who’d wed a woman from the Irish county of Co Donegal,
hated my singing, preferring the forgotten Lancashire tenor Tom Burke,
son of an Irish coal miner.

He even wrote a book about him called The L...

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SCENTS OF SPRING

 

I love the day the first, fresh scents of spring

suffuse the air and pervade the senses.

 

An AEIOU bird

toots its hollow horn

outside on the A595.

 

A celebratory genesis is everywhere.

 

Mother earth

is giving birth,

menstruating season

and ovulating dawn.

 

Fresh lovers maunder

hand in hand and

knee-deep in redol...

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Hey lovely, I am back…

Come, let’s have a quick snack…

What a beautiful and refreshing break…

With some drinking, party, fun and shake…

A holiday that was very much needed…

Especially after all the work completed…

Time to continue the path to achieve goals…

Work according to schedules with all the roles…

But I am sure you have been doing very well…

Not hiding behind the ...

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Shameless shoplifters are stripping Gregg's shelves bare,

With staff powerless,prosecutions extremely rare.

Thieves with no fear of being caught ,

Confidently steal what they have not bought.

 

Sat in Gregg's enjoying my .lunchtime treat ,

At least a couple of thefts my eyes did meet.

During the 1.30. lunchtime rush,

Thieves hidden by queues confidently gush.

 

Three ...

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There’ll come a time in days ahead

we must anticipate with dread

for all the tears that will be shed

so bitterly.

When wars at last are so widespread

that no one’s free.

 

Behold the future bathed in red,

with millions maimed and countless dead,

while you lie safely in your bed

and will not see;

the dreams for which our forbears bled

will never be.

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This isn't gonna be your feelgood story. 

It's also not really 'bout human glory. 

See, how I am of royal genes. 

Ten thousands of years, that's what it means. 

My ancestors were brothers and sisters alike. 

They impregnated all, just to keep us alive. 

So here we are now, as the sol survives. 

This isn't the Earth where everything thrives. 

So this is the Patriarch Legacy....

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The Waterway

I am in the water

Just one drop

Yet a vital piece

of the world’s oceans

And when it’s my time

To return 

I will move with the wave

Back into the blue

To become the rain

The snow

The place

where ancient whales roam

And microscopic life feeds

All the creatures great and small

I will move back through the people

I love as cold relief on a h...

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You don't have to understand,

that's what they said.

Just believe, have faith,

don't doubt the things

that God has planned. 

                                        that's what they said.

 

You are blessed,

faith is a gift

given to a a chosen few,

it's up to you

to make the best of it.

                                        That's what they said.

 

Humil...

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#WorldCurlewDay2025

 

I am not your enemy dear messenger,

but still your intent feels murderous.

 

And though your reckless,

adrenaline fuelled passes and dopplered cries

have sent these old instincts into full flight mode,

my head disappearing into my shoulders,

my sixty-year-old body separated from my bicycle

to lie expediently on this damp grassy bank,

I...

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Sixteen years pass so quick

It seems like only yesterday

I said hello then goodbye

To my loving stillborn Grandson.

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Dispensed

I am set out

Coalesced of moving parts

Both torrent and trickle will serve

 

Contained

I am caught up

Cicadian chirrups are deafening

From inside and without, the promise is unbearable

 

Consumed

I am taken within

Decent manoeuvres belying ambrosia

Resolved by the passing, I have enjoyed myself.

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There's a timid bloom

Bursting now through the concrete--

--A tiny triumph...

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The Friends

The friends gather 
in your absence 
attempting to conjure 
your presence 

you remain slippery 
your nature evoked  
by its refusal 
for ever being captured

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They nailed him to a fxxxing  cross

To fxxxing die in pain and blood

Starved and thirsty dirt and piss

So we can live a life of bliss

For the peace of man 

To stop the wars 

The message is 

Love they neighbour 

Respect for life 

To stop all strife 

2000 years down line 

We still commit the fxxxing crime 

Incapable of love 

The devil wins 

He Laps up greedi...

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Poem 174 of 230:  TYNE-VALLEY CIRCLES - AUTUMN 2001

 

The ringed homing of pigeon;

    The telescopic gasworks,

Which alter the horizon;

    There’s what could be, for some, perks -

Chopper-journeys as sight-sources,

    And advanced driving courses;

Plus, on our flats’ thermals,

    The circling flights of seagulls.

 

(C) David Franks 2003 - https://walkaboutsvers...

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"What do you consider to be, for you personally a very important word?"

The psychoanalyst looked at her client, she repeated the question thinking taht 

perhaps he had not heard

But the young man in the wheelchair looked straight at her without blinking

He held her gaze for a second, then "an" and again mpre emphatically "AN"

"Anne?" She echoed with a somewhat bemused smile

She w...

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I have no true friends, nobody to care.
I’m not alone in this, it’s not very rare.
Lots of lonely people feel the same.
But should we feel a sense of shame?
An admission of guilt, to some it seems.
A life were friendship comes in dreams.
Am I my worst enemy, yes probably so?
I'm a very complex man to get to know.
I am a fragile man, deep down inside.
Emotions to display...but tears to h...

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To whom does he belong, this strangler fig? 

I have not invited him, no not i.

Well I am appalled at his tendrils and vice grip,

And that gleam he has in his eye.

To whom does he belong, this strangler fig?

You would not welcome him, no not you.

Well you not once ever knew of his arrival,

If so, you would have seen right through.

 

What good is this strangler fig?

He’...

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A giant rises — towering, proud, severe, Yet check the sun before you yield to fear; For oft a dwarf, by stretching out his hand, Can throw a giant's shadow on the land. It is not the wind that drives the course you sail; The set of your own sails will tell the tale. The storm may roar, the sky may fall to grey — The sail decides if you advance or stray. The clever man will not o...

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I belong to empty pages and unwritten stories

I belong on the top shelf you haven’t visited in months

I belong under the bed, collecting dust

I belong to no one

 

I belong to ignorance when I won’t accept the truth

I belong to madness when I hear your name

I belong to silence when I’ve had enough

I belong to no one

 

I belong to affection like a rare birthday hug

I...

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What is it that I leave behind?
Echoes that proclaim I was here?
Growing ever more faint in time.
Why do I crave acknowledgement
That my time was well spent here?

I send out my voice.
The wind carries it where it will.
But I ask myself what matters more..
A legacy that lives on into the future
Or that I live... where I am right now.



Written April 2025

 

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Reinvention. 

 

In the corner stands my father

Shuffling in the shadows

The scent of tobacco stains the air

And he chuckles without a care

 

On the sofa sits my mother

Swift hands collecting flowers

Her smile outshines the sun

Her worries, they’ve all gone

 

On the staircase leans my brother

He is gazing at his mother

And grinning at my father

They seem...

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Miles between, yet souls align,
He’s the moon, and still he’s mine.

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(with acknowledgements to Cubby Broccoli)

We’ve a new allotment holder

Just retired from MI6

Wears a Beretta on his shoulder

Calls our lady members “chicks”

Drives a silver coloured DB5

He won’t get much in that

When he has to transport compost

From his Docklands penthouse flat

 

He takes his Martini shaken,

In his shed he keeps a score

Of days spent with psych...

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I had the best dream

Where I was out to my dad

And we were

Laughing at responses

That my teachers had

 

One teacher said that 

My egg was cracked

And that’s true

But it has been 

Since I met him

Although those two things

Have no correlation

 

I mean when I had him 

it was online school

he never made do anything 

Because he was cool

So I spent m...

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Marseille

“Absurdity is purity my loves” said the wise Monsieur Sinclair to his pupils. “Yet the creativity in the nuances is but a ripple upon the fabric of time.” They all applauded having no idea what the hell he means. But they love it anyway. Cerebral confusion to make one think. Is there meaning in this, is there meaning in anything at all?

 Young Pierre Dellatonte sauntered home that ...

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