Poetry Blogs (Nov 2008)

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Miniature Gods


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

Aboard pill...

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Also by Phil Golding:

Word Art | Dream Loving | Poems of 3 words or less |

Love Interrupted

Love interrupted

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,

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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 |

A Reading from Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

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Video: "To Be, or Not to Be A Bee"

Powered by Web Wiz Site News version 3.06

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Salford at sunset

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1 - Office at dusk

Blue and orange

romantic hue

Salford aglow

train slithers past flats

can't wait to go

thinking of you


2 - Friday afternoon

Golden glow

setting sun

another week

of life’s work



3 - Block of flats

Monolithic tombstone

slender church

Signs of life

and death



4 - Bosom

traffic lights hold back the tide

a king’s fantasy land

but only for ...

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The Gobble-de-Gooke monster is playing with my words

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


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Also by Daniel Hooks:

eat her whole! | conquer yourself rather than the world | how do you define insanity |

New Blog Time! Two New Ones

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 ...

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Also by Rob Sherman:

A new one - Britannia Owns A Flower Shop |

jiyuu ni naritai

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i tell myself this is just a phase
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...

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My first published poem

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'...

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Also by Martin Nelson:

The Blood |

Poetry on the Middle East

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:

Blair's Legacy

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...

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Also by Alain English:

"Security" by Zena Edwards | Women in my Poetry | London Performances |

Man who Sleeps

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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...

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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 thought it was you

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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

and ask,

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.

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Also by Sarah Clark:

the snake in the grass | go - while you can! | My Homie | This ball and chain. |

There's A Man Down Our Road Who's A Nazi!

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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...

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Will It Ever Cease

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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 ...

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rip me to shreds...

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


This Rope


We are this double twined

and boy scout knotted rope

which runs from my bellybutton,

via my boy scout knotted heart,

to you.


Both our hands are thickly callused

and chunky with the scars

of salt seared sores from

climging griml...

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A Poem For An Angel

thought i would upload this one first as, its probably the only happy, lovey on that will ever be uploaded by me :)






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...

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Evil Winks at the Camera

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


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...

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stupid credit crunch lemming contribution

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...

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we will talk about this sneeze more than others

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...

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Further Adventures in Poetryland


I've just updated my blog on my Myspace at http://www.myspace.com/tonywalshpoet

Do drop by and say hello - I've got the kettle on.




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Also by Tony Walsh aka Longfella:

Further Adventures In Poetryland |

Thank goodness the NHS can't keep to my pre-arranged appointment times!

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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


That’s it

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...

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letter to elaine

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...

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Also by Belinda:

Re: Note to Kimiko | Dad | Fairground |

for mother

Something wonderful

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
are better
loving things she said
theyre better
makes it better
should enter troubled heads
more often
so now I nurture
it helps with the smiling
Shant dwell in the dark
rather, soften
as I realise
hands alone cannot cha...

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 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...

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Also by Mia Darlone:

Rose Cheeks |

The Writing Class

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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...

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Cloaking The Angels

The younger mountain arose....
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...

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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

and t...

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Career Politicians and Bankers are evil (insert expletive/s)

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


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The Drug Dealer and the Poet



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.



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The love I once originated

still reverberates

The existence is the pain,

a victim, only of situation

The love I still hold,

Is inclusive

The situation was raped

Rudely forced

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

But ins...

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The railway carried us away

On trains by day,

On trains by night


To descend onto a God-forsaken stage

In hell

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...

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Also by Carol Falaki:

Rosa Parks |


The heart of our spirit

travels across

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?


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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...

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Snake Poem by Elise

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
slithering snake
and he starts
and gets into
a poisonous snake

It turns
Me into a snake”

A snake poem
By Elise aged nearly 8.

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An Unconventional Love

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


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Man`s Folly

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...

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Last Thought to Pimlico

To her.
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.

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Also by Ralph Dartford:

Blue Afternoon in Bethnal Green | Mexico 1970 | Delia's How to Cook. Book 1 | Under a Neon Moon |

Fame of a sort

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 ...

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Bikini To Peace (Two Piece!)

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Forty five long years ago

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

while ...

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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


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Also by Tim Linton:

Boiling Trouble |

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