Poetry Blogs (Aug 2008)

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Expressions so Deep

entry picture

As I sit with you here

spelling out every tear

Telling mind heart and soul

of the things that I fear

Here we share common ground

breaking down

touching base

All the knowledge we seek 

manifests in this place

As the day falls to night

we submerge to let go 

Any boundaries of mind

soon expand in the flow

Thoughts implode in us now

Running concepts like streams

and expressions of dou...

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Farther than father can be

Farther than father can be


Don’t call him my father

I don’t have one

Never want one!

Takes more than your indiscretion

Poor judgement

Lack of backbone

Your desolation of hope

To name ‘that’ my father

How could you?

Why would you?

Fathers are a fairy tale

A sick joke

Alive in books

The stuff ‘dreams’ are made of

Delusions, illusions

Like Santa Claus and the tooth fairy

Why are  ...

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Also by Moira Eribenne:

I just want a dog! |

You must find another

entry picture


I hate what I am doing to you,

trying to get you to hate me.

A map continues to elude my grasp,

bringing us to the same yearned for moment in time.

What I am going to say, rips my still beating heart from my chest.

All air is driven from my lungs, through my lips, as they part, saying,

“You should leave me, find another!”

I feel so depressed and low saying that,

knowing my thoughts ha...

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Also by Phil Golding:

Congestion of Souls | Love is a Cruel Mistress | Take one thought | City my City |


Is there anything to say?

Is there any point in saying anything?


Does she love me in her own way?

Does she love me strong enough to make me stay?


Is working at it working out?

Would not working at it work out better?





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New Poem: 'Split ends'

Split ends



The moon hangs like a yelmun segment,

over Glastonburic fairy lights.

This is always so hard to do.

Bump, bump. Rattle

A small hand twists my stomach.

Neon, sodium and xenon flies by.

I see nothing.

I think only of her.

Her smile,

her eyes.

Her full luxurious locks.

Dark skin and dark eyes.

Dark outside.

Dark is my mood.

We rattle and roll, twist and climb

up hills...

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entry picture


In front of the stage in the gardens

must have been 50 photographers

with metal cases, rucksacks, shoulder

bags, tripods, spare cameras round

their necks (just in case I suppose)

and holding up one with a huge lens

about 9” long in black, grey and even

one camouflaged in shades of green)

pointing to Phil Woods & Friends

roaring through some standards

from the American Songbook ...

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Also by Rodney Wood:


God's Masterplan scuppered Limerick

entry picture


Adam and Eve lay down in the garden

When a part of him started to harden

Eve said “Not to be graphic,

All my urges are Sapphic

Please forgive me if I beg your pardon”.

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Also by Mark Niel:

Theorem |

Rhyme Is Dead!!!!!!!!!!!!!

According to many students and writers of poetry Rhyme is Dead... So be it...

Rhyme is Dead!!!!!

Oh my God! Can it be true?
Rhyme is dead, it’s gone, it’s through.
It’s a useless skill, for one to possess
It’s not big it’s not clever, it doesn’t impress.
It’s stupid, pointless, childish word-play
So sterile and so totally passé
And the people who write or read rhymed verse
Should be ignored, or even...

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Wrong Name


My little girl, as she was

Riding a pair of shoulders.

Frozen in a shutter lens wink.

Blink and there gone, time runs on.

A snap that caught a snippet of life.

Wrapped, riding hooded in a red blanket,

Shrouded in mystery

Amidst the snowflakes, each one unique.

Looking back at the lens

All innocence and ambivalence.

I don’t know, should I laugh, smile, shout, eyes open, closed


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My father is not superman

My Father is not superman (simple words of Love)

I’m hoping you can help dad
I rely upon you
Always have.
I recall moments in my youthful recruitment
When you taught me the wicked ways of the world
How a spider injects a fly
The hapless struggle of its paper wings
Its every decreasing bursts
As it zips entangled the web
Dead, we watched that together
In the dim lit garden shed, our classroom
One lesson of man...

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The Aged

He sits, a painted smile upon his face,

Failing to hide his discomfort in his own skin;

The makeup feels like just another mask,

But the tears are real.


A hat and cane lie, discarded by his feet,

The former crumpled, the latter broken.

He forsakes his act,

The jovial nature,

Ever smiling face,

The bringer of joy.


Forever, finished with the young.


As the wrinkles swallow the mak...

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The storms in you

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I see the storms in you

seeking words

in the loch of cloud

sweet air flowers

rain on the horizon

the reborn song

every dawn 

all the moments writing

in the mind

days weeping in shadows

love waits deep in the eyes

bond of feathers on the bouquet of air

I see the storms in you

everyday a battle


thoughts a soak

on the winze  

the sky dreamers cloak

beautiful flight

swallow ...

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Also by Neil Francis Brooks:

Before i had a language. | Rudiments | The balloon | Small poem | Star of you | Love poem to my lover |

Perfect City

Perfect City


Its mornings are washed in post-storm sunlight; burnishing slate roofs on sleepy-eyed homes; casting shadows on streets dusted down with a baked bread scent.

Its song is the creak and clunk of a front door that fills the world and shakes the sunrise from its slumber; each dawn a melody and rhythm for footfall to fathom.

Its expression is found beneath the weathered surface of ...

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Also by Steve O'Connor:

Holocaust Deniers |


entry picture

Great music and tunes in Nature
Piano, Violin, Trombone
And Tuba just to begin
Songs of all birds
Four Seasons in a year
Spring with fresh blooms
Flowers, birds, green trees

Sunny days and the blue sky
All the joy and Glory
Singers have sang
Poets wrote beautiful rhymes
To emphasize the beauty of Nature
Summer vacation time
Love in the air for the love birds
When warm season arrives


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Also by Zuzanna Musial:


Live and Die

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I lie
live and die
your open
and very inviting

oh glory be
praise the sacredness
of true womanhood

I'm gladly trapped
a joyous prisoner
playing with you
playing with my thoughts
melting into pure lust

you want
you desire me
to exhibit my
physical prowess

I'm aware of your
of your red blooded
and beating heart
together we'll explore
our sacred whore
and we'll return from paradise
desiring more m...

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Also by Lenny Gazbowski:

Broadcasting Bullshit Corporation | What Price Freedom ? | Am I ? | Pet Dog Poem |


Confucian Chronicles

Confucian Chronicles


The house style is imperial, conservative in dress and etiquette,

Vestments and head wear are de rigeur.

Superiors are approached with bowed heads

And addressed as Sir,Your Worship, Mrs or Madam,

Depending on their place in the hierarchy.


The peasants and minor clerks, have long known their place.

Patronage is too generous to jeopardise through flippant challenge...

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Also by Dave Morgan:

Hovis in Wonderland : Latitude Festival 2008 |

The Pier

She came forth; her eyes etched with the thought of fresh food.  I loved the texture of her nose as it nuzzled and nuzzled.  "Another?" I asked, and so I reached again.

Antlers pushed against my ribs and thanking me she ate her final morsel.

We parted and with a quick glance, she made her way north, as I walked south towards the pier.

By Belinda Johnston - All poems and prose are copyright of t...

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Also by Belinda:

(untitled) |

The ingredient’s for the disturbed

The ingredient’s for the disturbed

Take a couple of parents
Let them sketch violence
Instead of pretty things

Take the vacant father

Children should not be witnesses
To Violence.

Cease the courtship’s of violence
There are children watching
Don’t you realise?

Pressed ears touch floorboard
Don’t kid yourself they are asleep
The selfish rowing couple
The guilty actions reap
The adolescent tearaways
And the anxiety...

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Under Water

Chaos of dreams
crash into my mind
like violent waves
trying to drown my worries out,
but each day comes
with me struggling to stay
on solid ground.
My dreams have lit the sky,
but still there are cracks
along the pavement.
And if I were to fall again, 
would I keep falling down?
Instead, I drift
upon each moment spent
in writing,
and I wait
in hopes 
of more doors opening.
And then I too can take ...

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A Bit of a Devil

entry picture

Lucifer had misplaced his horns

cursed with an absent mind

instead he donned a crown of thorns

and thought he looked divine.


But the barbs took root inside his head

effecting a subtle change

while all his imps were fearful

that he'd become deranged.


For declaring that the temperature

of hell was rather hot

he demanded air conditioning installed

at every single spot.


Instead of...

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Also by Sandre Clays:

The Medal | Stretched | Sharing |

Olympic Sports


We British are good on a bike

As fast as you bloomin well like

We British are good in a boat

As long as the damn thing floats


We row and we pedal

To win all those medals


Now we should be bold

We’d be sure to win gold

If we could go go go go

In a lightweight pedalo


Ps I’m brilliant at crazy golf

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Also by Tim Linton:

Love Beach |



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Also by Richard Brooks:

Welcome to the city Pt 2 | Memories | Life's Question | Painful Words | Welcome to the City | Genesis | Taste The Day | Timeless Finity | As I Leave | Dsyelxic? I tihnk not! |



Its gathering in the storm, and
I gather my weeds, stand facing it.
The force blows through my dreads and
each one lifts in fear,then lies back to cower
in this billowing. I stand weak kneed, small,
terrified to my core but
still standing. For lying, is no option for
the gladiator about to face certain death.
My only weapon is laughter, I throw back my head and
Peal. Even when the wind knocks my mir...

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Also by Abi:

Fourth | Bus Rage - A short story |

The next breath

The next breath

I lay here with eyes wide open
And yet I see no one I hear the words

And feel the thump on my chest

but why do I see no one

the light is bright

does that mean I am dead

no its just the paramedics torch

that sound in my ears its so loud it hurts

could it be Gabriel’s horn

calling me to judgement

I don’t understand did I do wrong

to stop them hurting other...

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Singing Loud and proud!

entry picture

Singing loud and proud!


It's Saturday's game

we go away on the train

spirits not dampened

by the torrential rain



Arrive on their patch

like lions in a pack

sometimes attacking

sometimes attacked



Moving on together

that tribal mentality

I know its not right

but it is the reality



Finishing our beers


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Bet you've never been so close

where you feel someones pain,

their heads wrecked

you too going insane,

have you ever been so close

you can read someones mind,

and all the bad you have done to them

you wish you could rewind,

have you ever been so close

that you would kill or die,

have you everbeen so close

that when your happy - you cry,

have you ever been so close

you can always talk ...

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Also by Sarah Clark:

Hear say | So i dont care? | a lucky escape |

Oh Nectarine!

Cousin of the peach

Quite unlike the fuzziness

Velvety smoothness, firm and succulent

And the flesh!

A yellow festering and humid sun!

The nectar of secrecy

Gifted by Mother Nature to my mouth!

I’m panic buying my nectarines

Recession beckons and

I must sink my central incisors into my nectarines

The initial dive into my dearest

Is enough, to wish all other senses away

But the sense...

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I am busy working on the Moon Calendar for next year, and on Wednesdays working at the West Yorkshire Print Workshop, open access for printmaking. This week I etched the copper plate of a drawing of a willow tree that I made many years ago on the bank of the Tyne.

Poetry is a reflection on life. There are lots of skilful ways of turning a piece of writing into something that feels complete, that...

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Tram Journey #1

The tram is full again as I board it to work.
I am standing hip-bone to hip-bone with a woman who marauds her mindless curves to roving eyes that are short of sockets,
They rest now, touch-toe-still in molasses,
And those that didn't make it are trapped behind thick Buddy Holly frames.
I think some of them are going the wrong way to the seaside, and some of them want chips already, some are quite poss...

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Chester Zoo

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7,000 animals they said.

6,000 of them jackdaws, mice

and sparrows getting the best

free handout in Cheshire.

800 were people collecting

the rip off entry charge,

begging for donations on top,

selling over priced, crap souvenirs

and peddling junk food.

One was the tiger sleeping

in his shed.

Blinking through his torpor

at the camera flashes

from the milling horde

excited to s...

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Also by Malpoet:

Doggone Shame | Working From Home | Low Fashion | Knitting |

Stanza Poems

Izanami swirled the flood

Izanagi blew his flute

As a pair they touched the ground

And saw their death in the tree that grew.


Vatea waits for Papa

Beneath a mango tree

He picks at ancient comestains



Pandora runs for president

Trying to do some good.

But the babies she kisses get TB

And her urn's not in the mood.


All the world will watch

The first and then the...

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Also by Rob Sherman:

Szu-Nim-Tung, Contemplating An Orange | Tongue Coma |

what is like to be left without words

This is what is like to have no words


All my words have been cut from my tongue
and I have been left mute
All words I have ever written have been burnt away like paper
All the words I have thought or thought to say have faded
like mental decay or memory loss
and I am left with nothing
but silence
other peoples words invade my space

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Robert Burns meets Bigfoot

entry picture

See what can happen?



Now here’s a tale, of men and mice

(Though which is which I leave to you)

Whose aliases must suffice

(And sadly must their motives too).


It happened one cold winter’s night

When snow lay thick upon the hills,

When Spain is hot and Scotland’s white

And all is quiet around the stills.


But not...

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Also by Stuart A. Paterson:

A poem | Me in someone else's poem |


So, this time, Coventry. Off I trot, all the way there, find somewhere to park, only to find that The Tin Angel was .... closed. Closed, dark, gated at door and windows.


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A Walk in the Park


This park is bare to my eyes.

Dirty, grey slide. Absent.

It is without a rackety, clackety roundabout

And with no metal frame to climb-

This park is dangle-free.

I blame government under funding

And probably Health and Safety.


But you don’t care.

It’s a beautiful, frosticle day.

Muffled and duffled, you trip along,

Reindeer nose juxtaposed

With green winter coat,

Bronze curls th...

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Also by Louise Fazackerley:

New Arrival |

Saturday Sally


Robert was rigid,

the rule book his ruler.

Relations with clients

were sometimes strained.

They didn't know

his panties were pretty

Lacy and small

so tight on his dickie.

His pinstripes were perfect,

his tie straight and trim.

No one would think

of challenging him,

but on Saturday he was Sally.

Robert was cross

when staff were too sloppy.

He could be stern

and terribly stroppy...

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Mothers Day

She sat in her arm chair with freshly made tea and toast

She kept looking out of the window as far as the gate post

She watched as cars came and went

Wondering if one would stop, pulling up by her fence

Another Mothers day had arrived

Yet she has tear drops in her eyes

Have they remembered that  this day is truely hers

Her babies are no more, sons and daughter

All grown up and left her sid...

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Enough hard truths and promises

Hugs and kisses stained with secret regret

And interrupted eye contact


You wobble between parallel worlds

Clutching, afraid to let go

When letting go will send you crashing into fact,

And in your dreams

Weave thin stories

Around the lie of your fabricated life

Paying your way with excuses

Existing in a haze of hope

And despair

When real...

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