Poetry Blogs (Nov 2008)
Don Matthews on Not Looking Forward to My Old Age, Specifically Arse Wiping (25 minutes ago)
M.C. Newberry on Not Looking Forward to My Old Age, Specifically Arse Wiping (32 minutes ago)
Brian Maryon on Not Looking Forward to My Old Age, Specifically Arse Wiping (4 hours ago)
I was sat at a table when these words flew from pen to paper
Thence from my keyboard type transposes it to electronic page
Sitting there with row upon regimental row of tablet
Spread before me like cadets on a passing out parade, awaiting postings
Pills of every hue, shape and functionality, through their barrette skyward
They all get posted to mind and body control central
Sunday 30th November 2008 4:16 am
Also by Phil Golding:Word Art | Dream Loving | Poems of 3 words or less |
Eternal Puck from a neon wood, preternatural blue agate eyes,
she speaks with her heart in her mouth, her body is a tuning fork
for her universe of words, mother mouthed, every sound works,
a soft lightening rod for the storm of everyones hard won glory,
her language has its own perfume, of talcum and pink lady apple.
Liquid looks from a dry place, a song bird in the trees of Dachau,
Saturday 29th November 2008 11:40 pm
Also by John G.Hall:Taste of Human | Some Words | Consequences | Life's what they made it | Heart for arts sake | Safe lips end this history | Cement Poem 7 | Sing the song of all |
Friday 28th November 2008 7:57 pm
1 - Office at dusk
Blue and orange
train slithers past flats
can't wait to go
thinking of you
2 - Friday afternoon
of life’s work
3 - Block of flats
Signs of life
4 - Bosom
traffic lights hold back the tide
a king’s fantasy land
but only for ...
Friday 28th November 2008 6:10 pm
The gobble-de-gooke monster is playing with my words
Making them come out backwards,
Making them sound absurd.
I would say something to the Gobble-de-gooke monster
But it all comes out wrong
What can I do if his power over me so strong
It upsets my muse
I would write a poem but these words I wouldn’t choose
I always loose my train of thought when that monster is about
Friday 28th November 2008 10:04 am
Also by Daniel Hooks:eat her whole! | conquer yourself rather than the world | how do you define insanity |
Hi, so one of these isn't so new. The first is about an encounter with a bear in the woods, and the second is a ramble about imagination. If you like reading vague poetry, enjoy like jam on good bread.
The Bear In The Waistcoat Has Lost His Balloon
Woodland comes on strong
As poor as a mulch rug
Yet I eat it like so
Much cereal soggy in September rain.
Man breakfasts on Death's
Back, careful ...
Friday 28th November 2008 3:06 am
Also by Rob Sherman:A new one - Britannia Owns A Flower Shop |
so i dont have 2fight this endless craze
minds caught up; unforgivn maze
euphoria drink smoke away the dayz
struggle 2c thru the blackz nd grayz
crossroadz mark the turn of age
sweet mornin breeze with the scent of sage
take a breath with ease but stil feel th rage
try to believe i can escape my mental cage
try to decieve my mind im not afraid
how can it be i still lack th...
Thursday 27th November 2008 9:56 pm
I wrote this ten years ago and it was published in a collection called 'Future Voices from Wales'. As I've been browsing through my collections and other assorted work I thought it was time this (awful) poem came out from under the dust once more.
Books are here, books are there,
How many types can you find?
Adventure, fiction, real life and love,
Sci-fi, comics and more,
Pick one up it'...
Thursday 27th November 2008 5:35 am
Also by Martin Nelson:The Blood |
This is some poetry I have written on the Middle East. The first poem is about the Iraq War, which began five years ago. I firmly believe, as do many, that Tony Blair's decision to take us to war was wrong. Here goes:
Our government is going down
All is lost for Gordon Brown
This bloodshed, chaos and despair
Left behind by Tony Blair
Blair rode to power promising much
His charismatic style...
Wednesday 26th November 2008 5:33 pm
Also by Alain English:"Security" by Zena Edwards | Women in my Poetry | London Performances |
Sleepy man who slumbers
Who releases all his cares
Drifts off into oblivion
As she looks on and stares
How she holds him now
Her arms around him tight
He feels so warm and loved
Hopes it will last all the night
He wishes it could be more often
But she lives too far away
So has to be content with this now
Oh how he wishes she could stay
For now it has to be like this
Life is t...
Wednesday 26th November 2008 9:39 am
Also by june slater:The Bay Tree published by United Press for the Diary of 2009 | Iron Man's Thoughts Published by United Press 2008 in Angle's Breath |
I seen a woman today
who looked just like you,
the way she walked and everything
was just like you,
i was tempted to run over
if she was the love
from my past,
but i just walked on
the rest of the day was dull,
because for her to be you
would be impossible.
Monday 24th November 2008 7:37 pm
Also by Sarah Clark:the snake in the grass | go - while you can! | My Homie | This ball and chain. |
Following on from the publication of THAT list.....
There’s a man down our road who’s a Nazi!
He’s there on the list, that’s for sure
His hobbies are bowls and line dancing
And he lives at 204!
Well, I must say that he looks quite normal
And his wife makes a nice cup of tea.....
There’s a man down our road who’s a Nazi!
I’m glad he’s not next door to me!
He’s bald, but, no, he’s not a skinhead..
He wears Hu...
Monday 24th November 2008 5:58 pm
I see this child is troubled, lost alone.
Heavily burdened with fears unknown.
Eyes filled with pain guarded yet alert.
Speak of untold humiliation and hurt
By words and deeds they don’t understand,
Their emotions unstable like shifting sand.
How can we help them grow strong and tall.
Teach them to cope when they hit a wall
Of hate, prejudice and abuse.
No matter the circumstance there ...
Monday 24th November 2008 5:11 pm
meep, new stuff! anyone who has the time to give me some criticism, it'd be well appreciated... im a bit rusty, or something. thanks! xxxx
We are this double twined
and boy scout knotted rope
which runs from my bellybutton,
via my boy scout knotted heart,
Both our hands are thickly callused
and chunky with the scars
of salt seared sores from
Monday 24th November 2008 1:22 am
thought i would upload this one first as, its probably the only happy, lovey on that will ever be uploaded by me :)
A POEM FOR AN ANGEL
I’ve never expressed Myself in this way before It’s just all the suppressed Laid out for you in A4 So please forgive me If it’s not so good But I need to be set free Of this emotional flood I can put paper to pen And a pick to guit...
Sunday 23rd November 2008 11:11 pm
America opted not to take the nuclear option that was Sarah Palin; in case anybody thinks this poem is no longer relevant, she - at least - thinks that Palin 2012 has a ring about it. Lest we forget, this is called
Evil winks at the camera
I betcha, doggone ya
A hideous malfunction of the American dream
And I don’t want to sound like I’m pr...
Saturday 22nd November 2008 11:16 pm
heres my stupid credit crunch contribution to the world
I shall contribute to the crippled economy
by not buying sensationalist papers
and subscribing to pathetic papprrazzi ideas
and jumped up reporters
and Richard and stupid Judy
Judy tits out Finnegin
Richard hen pecked punch bag
bleat out thier credit crunch agenda
i just drop me linen and go on a bender
i do a Grace Jones
and let them park between my f...
Saturday 22nd November 2008 2:40 am
God it's hard work!!
Friday 21st November 2008 11:38 am
Also by Cayn White:Shay Biz |
I sneezed so hard once that my sneeze went and knocked on the front door of a house across the street
A middle-aged man answered and I ran shouting in my sneeze’s wake to apologise
I asked the man at the door if I could collect my sneeze, but he said it was now part of the finder’s keepers rule
He went into his kitchen and found an empty jar and then pushed the jar into the air as though trying t...
Thursday 20th November 2008 10:41 pm
Thursday 20th November 2008 6:52 pm
Also by Tony Walsh aka Longfella:Further Adventures In Poetryland |
As I was waiting to see my blood specialist yesterday, I decided rather than read a four-year-old, half-eaten copy of Prima, I would write some poems instead and this is what I came up with:
Nine To Five To Kick Out Time
It’s all over
The music’s stopped
The bar’s run dry
Once again the crowds spill out
Squinting and shouting as they stagger by streetlamps
To which the heav...
Thursday 20th November 2008 3:56 pm
I went out on my bicycle yesterday. The day was bright and the sky a startling blue. Harvest has come to an end and the farmers have collected their rice for the year. The fields near my house are a wonderful shade of brown and yellow. Crow’s circle high above and gather in groups on wire fencing and by the edge of the road. They stare down below. Black eyes pierce the dusty ground, waiting for th...
Thursday 20th November 2008 2:31 pm
Also by Belinda:Re: Note to Kimiko | Dad | Fairground |
Don’t focus on the negative-
too much of it already.
better left unsaid
its not worthy.
we all share it
all know its there
darkness does its to own work.
brighter things she said
loving things she said
makes it better
should enter troubled heads
so now I nurture
it helps with the smiling
Shant dwell in the dark
as I realise
hands alone cannot cha...
Thursday 20th November 2008 1:02 am
I've never seen the lady who I'm guessing still provides the microwaved meals but I can only imagine the photo is an accurate likeness.
When I fart
Most guys think it’s a disgrace
But you thought it was funny when I shoved them in your face
You’d grade them on a scale of 1-10
And I’d argue that I deserved more
Then you’d blast one back in my direction
Trying to better my sc...
Monday 17th November 2008 10:39 pm
Also by Mia Darlone:Rose Cheeks |
The Writing Class
In the writing class we capture memories
Corralled and hobbled like prairie mustangs
We pen them in according to their colour, age and size
Taming them to break their spirits
Forcing them to learn new tricks.
They become our servants docile and less feisty
Hooves shod and harness polished
But deep down we know they will be always wild at heart
They will never truly be...
Monday 17th November 2008 12:11 am
As the old forgotten sea...
Fell beneath her wandering feet..
While many stars stood still...
With darkness...Visible nearby..
Cloaking the angels eyes and ears..
So they could not see..
Nor hear the voice in the night..
Of the old sea's...Setting tone...
A voice heard by many lost..
Coming from deep beneath..
An upward outstretched hand..
Amidst a gift'less gravity..
From a long...
Sunday 16th November 2008 10:58 pm
Also by John Boyle:The Piano Plays |
People thought I was some sort of freak
and said my life must be incomplete
as my face had no tache or beard
in fact, was bald and looked plain weird.
All I wanted was a tache collecting debris,
that was fit for a screaming queen,
that was a badge sleek and evil
worn by the sprawling, grinning devil.
People thought I was some sort of freak
as I could only shaved twice a week
Friday 14th November 2008 1:15 pm
Career Politicians and Bankers are evil (insert expletive/s)
One villain makes a world full of heroes
Crises thrive on ones and zeroes
Morons will respond with "tough!"
But it’s the bravest who will shout "enough!"
Champions dare to show compassion
Even when resolve is ashen
Write off our protests as rude
When the choices are a roof or food?
Sickening. Calling it a crunch
Thursday 13th November 2008 2:35 pm
I was talking to a drug dealer the other day,
(purely for research purposes you understand).
He said we had much in common.
“Like what”? I asked.
Well for a start, “pot” is three quarters of “poet” and all the poets I ever met were at least three quarters gone the whole time.
A good point, well made, I felt. Albeit anecdotal in nature rather than based on firm data.
Thursday 13th November 2008 9:58 am
The love I once originated
The existence is the pain,
a victim, only of situation
The love I still hold,
The situation was raped
The pain is the tear on
The violet dusk and an echo
On dawns royal sky.
The memories fragment indifferently
The face is a hero,
She’s not found on a a coin,
Or a note, not stamp
Or metal carving
Tuesday 11th November 2008 11:22 pm
The railway carried us away
On trains by day,
On trains by night
To descend onto a God-forsaken stage
In the line to the left
You need no bed, nor shelter
In the line to the right
You will run with a sack on your back
Until you can’t go on
In naked fear
Your dignity stripped
All contact from before, lost
You are forgotten
Outside of the ima...
Monday 10th November 2008 11:52 pm
Also by Carol Falaki:Rosa Parks |
The heart of our spirit
the thin line of life.
Words echo in static,
and music feeds the soul.
We are hurting.
Some wander lost.
Hope finds a few.
The heart within
struggles with the burden
of a world divided,
a world trying to stand.
We are here.
We are calling.
Can no one hear us?
Are the winds of change coming?
Has war left history's pages torn?
Monday 10th November 2008 6:04 pm
In my dreams, I am often wandering
In the most beautiful Amazon Rainforest,
A place with abundance of plantation,
A Forest that is so vital to human life
And never been fully understood by civilization,
The Rainforest is like having a home
Full of exotic plants, blooms of many colours,
Twisted ropes hanging of the top of a gigantic tree,
Philodendrons with t...
Monday 10th November 2008 6:45 am
This actually is a reprint of a old poem by my god daughter, Elise
from a few years back which I published on a old blog which
I discovered the other day and thought I would share it with you.
“I look to see the
and he starts
and gets into
a poisonous snake
Me into a snake”
A snake poem
By Elise aged nearly 8.
Sunday 9th November 2008 8:17 pm
Your two eyes, wrinkled from the wisdom of the aging process.
As I stare into them I feel a sweet sense of regress,
And yet your skin is still fresh, that light brown body,
Simply carved into perfection by some higher power.
Your scent, of spice, whispering tales of foreign places,
Causing senses of delight in many smiling faces
And as I move you closer to me, I yearn to taste you
Sunday 9th November 2008 5:46 pm
Humankind cannot take too much reality.
They retreat into their minds.
It’s all just wishfull thinking.
Reality is invisible, so what is it that we see?
We must prepare for every eventuality.
Prepare ourselves to hear the truth.
The population, so aloof.
Given no reason our thoughts are carried on the wind.
Civilisation fragile as glass.
Minds stretched thin, soon will snap.
Is it a...
Sunday 9th November 2008 3:28 pm
He was one of those days.
An unpaid bill.
Spilling blood on his life.
He took the wrong turning,
into chocolate coated eyes.
She melts away now.
He sucks her wrapper.
She’s all things.
A cracked Pimlico pavement.
A clicking heel.
Stubbing him out.
Collecting joy from the vein.
His weak willed heart.
She's giving bad breath,
to the lost causes that love.
Sunday 9th November 2008 9:42 am
Also by Ralph Dartford:Blue Afternoon in Bethnal Green | Mexico 1970 | Delia's How to Cook. Book 1 | Under a Neon Moon |
It's not a goal, as such, more like a corner or a throw-in,
but I wish that I could be in somebody else's poem.
It would be fame of a sort, though not the kind that can be sought;
it happens by chance and is in other hands.....
or perhaps it could be planned!
Can it be so hard to locate a versifier,
an unsuspecting bard, the type that won't inquire
into my raison d'etre and ultimate ...
Wednesday 5th November 2008 3:27 pm
I marched from Aldermaston.
My teenage rage inflamed by
bomb tests in the air.
MAD was what we fought against
and madness ruled the world.
The milk was full of strontium
and Cuba bristled nukes.
That stronty ninetium
does no good to your tum.
JFK, the poster boy, faced down
the missile threat.
He took the world
right to the edge
Monday 3rd November 2008 3:15 pm
I WANT A WOMAN
I want a woman
Who listens to my reflections
Who gives me direction
And offers me protection
I want a woman
Who will shield me from the flack
To never change tack
And go on the attack
I want a woman
Who wears a sharp suit
And killer boots
Who is never cute
I want a woman
Who knows invention
And is intentional
In being sexual
I want a woman
Who can rap and sing...
Sunday 2nd November 2008 11:06 am
Also by Tim Linton:Boiling Trouble |