Poetry Blogs (Sep 2007)

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Here I go again.

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Ever since I finished at university, I've been experiencing a weird and extended feeling of deja vu. I'm still unemployed, still short of dough and still filling out job application after bloody job application. It's starting to get on my sodding nerves! What's more - every time I hit a key all this text vanishes - now that is really annoying.

Anyhow, at least take a gander at me and my missus c...

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My life in the launderette

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This picture is part of a series on living alone.
I photogrpahed bed-sits, Launderettes etc in order to get some ideas for a series of poems.
This piece was written in one take whilst just flashing back to the launderette.
It is not necassarily finished, final or complete.

He finally missed home , hypnotic

clockwise rolled the steel hum
scrunched on the bench
missing the mum
who tended to such trivia

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Piggy Belle is Dead

Weather Pig sways lazily,

peering from the roof.

He stares at windy Wales

with teardrops in his eyes.


Of course he faces windward

as he does throughout the year,

but now his task is tearful.

Piggy Belle is dead.


Guard Pig lies at duty

by the front door, as he must.

His task to pee on Mormons,

bite balls off burglar thugs.


He is is lax about his duties,

though always at his ...

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Penarth Beach

(A translated version of  the poem by Heather Dohollau)

Finally we are here and it looks to me,
obviously (it couldn’t be
any other humour) ,
so much blue, and over there the coast is
so clear, there can be little doubt,
now that the eyelids are raised, there is not much time,
for children playing under
mother’s watchful eyes;
searching amongst stones and cuttle shells,
creating wounds that will no...

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