Poetry Blogs (Oct 2008)

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Kingdom of Solitude

There is a place ~ The kingdom of solitude
Where silence reigns...And inner wisdom is viewed..
Beyond troubles of gloomy faces...Bowing down..
Before a stormy hunter ~ Beneath the frown.

Where miracles traveled for good...Long ago..
Grazing upon the crossing... Where meadows flow..
Waiting for the arch over the universe....
To triumph gently....It's affectionate verse..

Roaming the hillsides.. With su...

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Also by John Boyle:

Breached By Naked Hands | Before Heaven Kissing | Artic and Bleak | Like A Dophin ~ I Swam |

No More Drinking

No more drinking

I’m not drinking anymore.

My mates think I’ve become a bore.

Rather wake up in my own bed.

Than wake up with a banging head.

Mouth like a birdcage? Not for me.

The buzz word is sobriety.

Look at Gazza he`s a mess.

Don’t want to end up like Georgie Best

I’m glad I got that off my chest.

Sallow skin and bloodshot eyes.

How long can a body survive?


Drunken brawls, don’...

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Also by vixichick:

Dance Dance... |


I am midnight
riding a train to nowhere,
and every glimpse
outside these glass windows
promises of a life
so often dreamed.

And I have stepped out
more now
than before
to grab hold
of what I dream,
but somehow I find myself
back on this train,
heading toward a dark tunnel
with no promise
of seeing life
beyond once again.

But I hope for another stop
to approach soon,
and give me back
a taste of life
before I ride the t...

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Emotional Rainbows

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The sunshine,

The rain,

The emotional strain,

The desires for life,

Colours aspirations,

Hopes and needs.

Feel spirits

Rise and fall

Like ‘Emotional Rainbows’. 

Searching society,

For that elusive pot of gold,

That holds the key,

To living the ‘Happy ever after’.

© Phil Golding 28/10/2008



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Also by Phil Golding:

Another Fish | Dream revised | High Haiku |

The Song of Mickey Clemons

Oranges and lemons,

poor old Mickey Clemons.

Not a penny in his pocket,

a shirt upon his back.


There were holes,

in his brogues,

now ten years old.

Heels down to cork.

Once they clickety clicked.


His coat was a wafer.

Cost a crumpled tenner.

A pocket about to split,

from a loveless charity shop.


These were Jackets

men had died in.

The mad,

and bad.

The drunk.



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Also by Ralph Dartford:

Blow | The Man From Naples | Black Cross | Undressed | Last Goodbye to Stephen Chambers | Leaving London | The Loveless | Nineteen and the Mermaids | Henry Miller at Denny's | The Ukulele Lady |

In Search of Words

I don't have enough words to give to you.
I saved a Scrabble stack of vowels from all the games I tried to play,
a hundred I.O.U's
and still I can't spell out: I Love You.
I watch your smile behind a paper cup,
Your face on the end of a telephone line,
Your chest caught up in the stripes of your jumper;
and how it pulses our mistakes out.
In the morning I'll hold your hand beneath the covers,
Your face w...

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Nature kills baby (a poem for All Hallows)

Nature kills baby (a poem for All Hallows)

our love wore a silencer

but it still fired a soul,

you carried

my baby like

a bullet baby,

then the devil in the detail

pulled apart DNA's angel hair,

as cells unraveled

as the blood tripped,

as birthday candle

turned back to bee,

as bone crumbled chalk

into the mother board,

as the tears grew hard

in the corners of our eyes

I snuggled you in my arms

and you sang me too ...

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The luxury of being a writer

I remember being told by one of my English teachers that 'Writers have an amazing opportunity'.

As writers we really do have something special. Many people wish that they could change their lives and have things the way they want them. When we write and then preform or see others perform we are doing exactly this. We are shaping a reality that does and is exactly what we want. We create our chara...

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I paid 50 quid for an escort

It was 45 minutes of fun

But I was left feeling gutted and a bit of a mug

When it broke down on the bloody M1

I’m out of credit and it’s pissing it down

When a voice yells ‘It’s alright, don’t panic’

I turn round, oh my god, he is beautiful

And thank god – the guy’s a mechanic!

You glanced at my airbags

And lended me your jumper

I could read your mind so cle...

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Itsukarasamadesu, Itsukarasamadesu

If I say it really slowly; it doesn’t sound like a mess

Itsukarasamadesu, Itsukarasamadesu

If I don’t say it enough: Does it mean I love you any less?

Itsukarasamadesu, Itsukarasamadesu

I really need to talk to you; get some things off my chest!

Itsukarasamadesu, Itsukarasamadesu

Lately, Lately, you’ve really been a pest

Itsukatasamadesu, Itsuka...

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Also by Belinda:

Lunch Box | Sister |

Spare Filth

Spare Filth


Take the pennies from his eyes

And put them in the tin

Your alms won’t cure

Or countermand accountability

It’ll pay for a minute

Of a machine

Dressed up as care

But only if you have

The right amount to spare


Take a month off and dig

A child sized grave

For just two pound

Then shove her into

That inexorable hole

A reward for state

She’s obliged to declare

A debt t...

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My Christmas List

I'm a mental nurse, I know all about neurosis,

maybe mine's got worse but nobody seems to notice!

I'm at peace, it's believed, with each sister and brother;

they don't see my heart bleed and the pain that I suffer.

Like today I'm in the office and I'm multi-tasking,

I've got biscuits, coffee and a message here asking,

"What is it you want for the Christmas vittels?

Perhaps a chic res...

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Crystallised sugar flakes

Where falling from the sky

Icing the weary travellers

As they passed me by

Umbrellas like candyfloss

Upon a lollypop stick

What a glorious time is Christmas

Three cheers for good Old Nick


Lights like a shattered rainbow,

Adorn my Christmas tree

Mistletoe a hanging,

Like pearls from salty sea

Batten burg like parcels

With ribbons tied up slick


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entry picture

He was kind and he cared
for all his wonderful friends
A very special man
One of the people I knew
My genuine friend
Often when there were
No e-mails from me
he asked, "Are you an okay?"

I like this friend a lot
he had a heart of Gold
in today’s world so cold
there are not too many around
To say,"Hello and how do you do?"

But he was different,
he knew life and treasured

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Also by Zuzanna Musial:


Nantwich Poetry Slam

The first Nantwich and Northwest Poetry Slam was held at the Railway Hotel on Sunday 19th. In a very entertaining afternoon with 4 hrs of poetry the competition was extremely close with Manchesters Mia Darlone taking 1st prize, in 2nd was The Trent Vale Poet and 3rd David Partridge from Warrington. Harry Owen Cheshires 1st Poet Laureate performed a wonderful guest slot as did Crispin Thomas who ha...

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Poets never die they just fade way into their own words

Poets never die they just fade way into their own words



They are the light at the end of tunnel

These words line the pages of history and funnel outwards

They are me and I am them

They are the stem from which my thoughts flower

They are the real power to change the world


Can I help it that I am giving way to these words

And fading into pages of pen and ink


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Also by Daniel Hooks:

faces under hoods in an urban sprawl | we join the dots |

Some Seasonal Poems for Halloween

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Here are some seasonal poems for Halloween, all true, as told by my family from North Longford...

"Old Clonbroney" is the story of a man who met a headless horseman when calling on a neighbour after moving into the area.

(left) Irish famine victim with children
(right) A black dog, thought of as a damned soul or personification of Satan

Apperantly this is actually true, the miller h...

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The accent from
above; glove over
glove, folding flames 
into the hearts of love.
And through those eyes -
as cold as caves -
rest the memories
of men made slaves.

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This is a total change from my normal style and subject matter, so I wanted to share, and risk some feedback.

I’m awake

Not un-sleeping

But awake

More awake than ever

Awake to today

Awake to tomorrow

Awake to life

Awake with your voice in my ears

Awake with your smile on my face

Awake with your hair in my fingers

Awake with your fragrance in my mind

Awake with your taste on my lips


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Also by Seamus Kelly:

Time after time |

STOP. . . . . , a m e r i c a

Oh my god, America!
the biggest bully of all
And that, of course, means you
When you presented Edward teller
Who could conceive the designs
Finally thought through
a command performance
Through Enola
And the little boy
As He reached for a dragonfly
you made him promptly disappear
His legacy a shadow
the shot that will be heard
For the remains of human years
Shadows in Hiroshima
Body parts in Basra
Agent orange in...

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a new generation

A new generation

Now you have what you need
The fruit of my loin
Shall we all go to seed?
These next generations
These idolise things
Our children
The bringers of security
As mother nature rings the desire
And halts the biological clock
So nearly stopped at 38
A race to conceive
Before its too late
And ovary gives way
To potential cell structure dismay
I blame society
And the high flying goals
The career gi...

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I was sitting quietly at the bar with a pint of bitter

in my right hand and I was about to bring it to my lips

when a skinny man, wearing a trilby and knitted sweater

sad “you like art. Want to buy something as cheap as chips?”

On a red flatbed lorry with a crane at the back

was a bronze sculpture weighing at least 2 tons

“Yours for £1,000.” What could I say but “yes, I'll take it.”


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Also by Rodney Wood:


Up with the lark

What’s hell on earth? It’s getting up early

An even more ludicrous thing to do

As winter draws in, dark, cold and surly

Bed’s better, with an extra dream or two

Imagine the days of TB and flu

When factory hands and miners had to rise

By candlelight or gas lamp, no chance to

Relax with a coffee; out under skies

Blacker than the soot that would soon comprise

Their outermost skin; breathin...

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Potry Brew- Haiku


I was disappointed to miss the Poetry Brew.  Here are the haiku's I wrote for the occasion.  And although haiku traditionally address nature- mine are on human nature. 


oh office affair

leaving pregnant wife at home

poor her, lucky you


can't have must have ex

goodbye-sex a mountain peak

valley follows this


raining after work

borrow a nice umbrella

harried leave on train

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Time Spent Fishing

First time posting just joined have been looking and reading on and off for a while though. Hello everyone

Time Spent Fishing.

The time I spent fishing has often been happy, not usually sad sometimes indifferent, a pastime, though one not unfamiliar with the slow drawing out of hours into an endless vigil of watching waiting re-baiting, opening another beer, full concentration on a wholly futil...

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I was prospecting on the beach

Just hanging out and doing my thing

You look a nerd with a metal detector

So I've a magnet on a string

The sun was high and the waves were breaking

Sighing as they relaxed on the sand

And I felt real good, and lucky

With my lode-stone swinging in my hand

I'd found a couple of cans

And a handful of discoloured money

But then I felt the pull much stronger

I ...

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Attila the Stockbroker cleans up the City!

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I was a clerk there: I’ve seen the greed
How wealth and power eat hope and need
Now they’re eating each other but they’re still screaming
‘No interference’ – I start dreaming…
‘Self regulation?’ OK, I say
‘I’m a stockbroker – let’s do it my way’
And that’s the beginning of this little ditty:
Attila the Stockbroker cleans up the City!

Each gets a red nose so everyb...

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