Give us your feedback
Nicola's comments have prompted me to write this, partly in recognition of her contribution to furthering open-floor poetry in Bolton, partly to plead for your help in continuing the work.

Write Out Loud was established in 2003 to encourage anyone who has a mind to, to write poetry and share it by reading it ‘out loud’ in friendly groups.
It all started with John Je...

Read and leave comments (5)

Gordon, Gordon turning right.

Now to Harmanise your plight

To Abraham, from God was given

cash aplenty, no discretion.

 

On the Rock they queued and cued

You stumbled while more debt accrued.

Two slipped discs laid you more low.

A few Watts more and you will go.

 

Gordon, Gordon's fading might.

Sleepless times again tonight.

Mendelssohn composed a letter.

Made things worse instead o...

Read and leave comments (3)

The darkness of night was being washed away by the first rippling specks of light

The birth of a new day sent the suns rays dancing upon a shimmering white surface

As the temperature crept up the dusted snow branches released their burden

As the clumps of snow hit the covered forest floor it startled a young deer

Sending it darting for the cover of mothers protection leaving c...

Read and leave comments (2)

To understand life and death,
you must walk the road
through the cemeteries,
walk the earth
that breathes
life and death.
The stone tablets
will tell you
of the stories,
reveal the memories
of the ones
that left us,
the ones we mourn,
and the ones
that changed our life.
Forever etched in stone,
their names are eternal,
and their love,
their life
to never be forgotten.
We think that they left us.
This cemetery is proof...

Read and leave comments (1)

the souvenir hunter

the soil dispatched ambassadors
a long time ago
they sought the fallen
in the form of worms
slowly greeting, writhing
sloth like slime, dividing
deleting flesh
from earth
partial skeletons
semi submerged
revelation,a winter winds erosion
a hand still gripping pistol
emerged
as souvenirs you seek
in no mans land
a white knuckle still clasps
a pistol grip
a brass buckle slips
on tin hat rusted
the...

Read and leave comments (3)

You said you’d always love me when you smacked me and I cried

But that was a lie

Here’s an open hand

Here’s a kiss

Here’s an open hand

Here’s a fist

I came from your womb

You suckled me from your breast

But then came the test

When I learned to speak and be naughty

When I learned to be an individual when I rebelled

You said I’d changed you said I’d go to hell

Now I find your love was ...

Read and leave comments (0)

Yesterday being Remembrance Day

I made a point of remembering

And joined several hundred other rememberers

On the Town Hall Square

Where I bumped into Alec Simister

Who I hadn't seen for ten years

Now there's a man who could wear a bowler hat and rolled umbrella

As well as any city banker, retired guards officer

Or Orange Lodge member

His high cheek bones and straight black hair suggest he ...

Read and leave comments (6)

Come to Word Command's event at The Bit on the Side, Paignton, Devon on the 15th November. It promises to be a spactacular evening of fantastic artists - spoken word and performers.

Read and leave comments (0)