Poetry Blogs (Oct 2009)

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With cold hands entangled

through her mane,

Epona carried me on winding goat paths

and over tumbling streams.

Together we crossed the

wildest mountain passes

across moors of twisted heather

where bees rise on currents

of honeyed air.

She returned me

to all the places I had loved

in life.

Through cities of stone,

across ancient bridges

spanning r...

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i.m. Ivor Cutler (1923-2006)

Someone said they were dreaming outside

they were slumped over a cup of coffee

and it was milky and sweet

and the day smelt of suntan lotion

Someone said they were sitting on a bench

they were under a umbrella

and they saw a man wearing short trousers

and it was Mr Cutler beside a bicycle

Someone said they had a mint with their latte

they wanted to give i...

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Also by Rodney Wood:



I cry so hard, because I fear we will always be apart I long for you with every part of me, but yet I fear so much that we will never be, if I could just see you once, hold you tight that would be the happiest moment of my life if I were to die now I would die broken-hearted , for then we would have always been parted, I cant help but to cry my heart aches for you to be nearby don’t forget me my...

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Also by layla turner:

emptyness |

A Will to praise. For CBT and WOL

I often think of Shakespeare at his desk;

in tavern, Wilton House, Globe, Stratford town:

half-penned, some sonnet’s graceful arabesque,

loose-curled around some thought to poem grown:


did he, I wonder, in his molten mind

need pause, to smith some jewelled rhetoric ?

or search his brain, some fitting rhyme to find

for thoughts far deeper than a rhymester’s trick ?



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Also by michael shepherd:

Chris's liver recorded live | Gertrude Stein is interviewed on American Poetry | Commentator battles through to gold in banality final | English Teacher | Hardworn | Surgery | Donald Rumsfeld in Wordsworth Country | A Novel Situation | On Not Quite Knowing Kathleen Raine | Rudagi's Wine Song | Bier is rest | the Fates fly home to roost | Love You | Are you offended by the word 'offensive' ? If so,, | Gertrude Stein meets Marilyn Monroe in Tiffany's | A measured nature: the Japanese mind | Monk | Mrs Wordsworth joins WriteOutLoud | Words of Consolation for a Wet Day in the Lake District | Enthusiasm | A spiral scratched into an ancient Irish gravestone | Body Language |

Incident at Gregg’s the Bakers. Saturday Morning 31st October 2009, Wakefield

I am frightened.

Slightly furious.

These rumours are spurious.

About my involvement,

in an incident,

at the bakers.



I don’t know if you’ll believe me.

But please try to relieve me.

Because at the moment,

it’s a matter for the police.


It was this Saturday morning,

When hunger struck without warning.

And like yeast,

I was drawn to the dough.


And as I took in the shop vi...

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Also by Ralph Dartford:

The Loveless | The Palindrome |

Gaggle me

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I am one, I am two I am three million.

The ways I know are a thousand trillion

Spend an epoch, squander an age


Eons pass, I am the sage

I tell the future, own your past

Life inside, the dice is cast.


How many microbes in this space

Adrift like plankton,

A world-wide rat race


Follow me, I know the way

Don’t be shy, go get bitten

I have done it all, and written.


Experience t...

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Romantic Delusions of a Naive Youth

I lay beneath a blossom tree

Counting the seconds

Of a petals fall

From branches stirred

By the force of my heart beat,

By the sound of my heart’s call.


Petals that lay down softly

A patchwork dressing

To sooth scorched skin

Burnt from staying in the sun

Too long,

Waiting to be found by him.


I never told him I was hiding

That I wanted him to listen

To the whispers of my soul,


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Also by Jessie:

Just being together | Aneurysm | Living in Depression | Losing Time | Learning Anatomy | Nature 2 | Nature |

Crisis in the Skies

'Pandemonium hits the skies
as unemployement levels rise,
tenfold in the last twenty years
Realisation of all heavenly fears...
Millions of Angels on the dole,
only supply jobs for the odd soul....
Scuffles break out for assignations
during peaceful demonstrations,
Celestial chaos in jobcentres overrun....
isn't it time that something was done?!'
[Blazed the 'The Archangel' headlines,
29th October in the yea...

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Also by Nicky Burrows:

'Siren' | Bone Dry (and Destitute)- the plight of two children. | 'Open-Mic Virgin' | Critical Obfuscation of the Poet Critic | Being | Single Malt Tears | Apples and Pears | Silence | Single Malt Rain | Pearl Stitch |

Fear Theory

This is my poem on religon, if your a hardcore catholic turn away now.


Fear Theory.

Of morals and methods the grey one speaks

And men in tall chairs shield

From the knowledge of question.

The fools world spread their winged ears

To receive the good news:

"We need more money."


Theft without apparent crime they feed on fear

And the poor come packed

With a pock...

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Also by Kealan Coady:

From Beneath Hades. | De Frustratie Neurose | The Fires of Burning Midnight. |

Siren on the Rocks

Siren on the Rocks



Strutting around like a pea-hen.

Goods displayed for all to see,

Like a meat-stall on the market.

‛Best breast on special offer’

‛Get yourself a nice bit of leg for the weekend.’


She might as well carry a billboard,

‛Two for the price of one.’

Form a queue,


for a cocktail or ten.

‛Siren on the Rocks’


A quick grope against the wall,


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In Many Ways, My iPod Is Better Than Your iPod

In many ways, my iPod is better than your iPod

Yours is okay, sure, but if you look closely

You’ll notice that mine is a much whiter model

And the headphones are monogrammed

And you can fit millions of songs on it

As well as photos and movies and spreadsheets and graphs and amusing Powerpoint-type presentation things.

Whereas yours – well, it looks like you’ve owned it for a few months, if y...

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The Ballade of David Keller

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(A bit of spooky fun for Halloween - whooooo!)








It was innocent youth he left behind

Grown up experience that he sought

To go and see the world was on his mind

Feeling that his time was growing short

The best way being, or so he thought

From Portsmouth harbour to set sail and so

An ageing merchant vessel was caught

Away he went to see his English home no more


He soo...

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Also by Neil West:

Cry Me A River | Mid Life Crisis | An Anti-Love Poem | re poems about historical figures |

Lessons of loss

The fair voice on the window sill,
ranking gravity over dice,
teaches opportunity
as a lark descending;
a will for the staff, the hungry deft harvester
whose nuance is a hospital and stiff sheets, and radio'd veins,
and morse coded prescriptions.
It pursues a lanky kiss; a boney tumbling vertical,
rigid against the yellowing cotton,
tripping through a calenda...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Self Portrait | Faust's Manifesto | The Stark Flight of the Soul. | Fever | Holes in the Box | The Stubborn Stumbling Mirror | Doped Bruises like Banquets |


A cool pool of blood across the abatoir.
The last of the lambs,
tortured, slaughtered for us.
Peaceful at last
the lambs who looked to us as gods.
Meals on four legs they were for us
Born for the fire of suffering.
Perhaps they are best
Each one gone
each one at rest.
Be sensible humans....
Cheese and eggs have
as much protein
or even nuts and soya.

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Don't Forget Me

Goodbye, my love,
Never forget to write me,
Remember my love for you,
Envisage me in your mind,
See me in your dreams,
and forever you're in mine.
There is no last goodbye
Goodbye, my love,


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Also by BRASS:

Pakistan | Waiting | Peace! In A World Full of Tears. | Then Came Sadness From Beauty | Truth In A World Without Tears | No Last Goodbye | She spins for me | SUDAN |

no adventure

remotely, my loneliness
swirls in the emptiness of a worthless oil drum
i wear it in bed
black and widowed
and here i practice my early morning wake up calls
of hard work
and calculator screens
where all adventure is delayed
delayed! delayed!
and in english i am speaking
but in german i am feeling
as sadness tinkers out to public spaces
in tones of sunday glockenspiels

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Korma girl

Meek and mild

You know I'm not

Like Vindaloo

I'm spicy hot

A chilli pepper

with fiery bite

Or snarling dog

ready to fight

Can growl

Can bark

Can hold my own

Can bare my fangs

Chew to the bone

Kill you cleanly

Leave no trace

Wipe that look

from off your face

Spiky tongue

and narrowed eyes

Are you really,

so surprised?

My baby blonde

is Fool's Gold


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What new assault is this?
You have regrouped, retrenched
Seen the lay of the land
Armed yourself anew
Advanced again
Strong arms around a too thin waist
Soft murmurings to that ear
Can you not see that she is deaf?
A heavy hand, a wooden heart
White and empty are her eyes
Anger she could deal with
Built walls so high...
No arrow could  pierce that heart
No rout to that soul

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When you’re out and about in the winter’s cold

And the end of your nose starts to drip

When the bitter wind chill blows a freeze on your cill

And dries it to a crust on your lip

When the size of the port in your nasal reveal

Has shrunk to the size of a dot

And your brain can’t regain the front of you head

From the blockage of  package of snot

When the glow from you konk has them dipping t...

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

Your label |

The War Of The Roses

The War of the Roses

Red on one side, white on the other
the roses steadfastly facing one another
I was caught in the middle like some referee
with both lines armed with sharp points aimed at me

As I stood uncertain of which way to go
my hand gripped my own short weapon you know
twin blades close together would soon be apart
as I released the catch and to war I did start

Soon my blood was seen to dri...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

Love Passes | After | Clouds of Rain | A W.O.M.A.N. |

for you

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The years have gone by and I still stand amongst the shadows of time forever searching in my dreams to be set free unleashed upon thee, to leave these Fears and Tears behind

I am me I know this, If i could just see your smile once more to feel your touch upon my cold skin to lay amongst the fields like I did as A child , To see you breath life within me once more how I along for this

But it will...

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British ?

The British Catholic man was having a chat

with his mate the British Methodist man when

along came the British Hindu man with his friend

the British Buddist man,

conversation was flowing well and the

British Muslim man and the

British Jewish man joined in, but

they all started to boo and hiss when

the British Atheist man tried to join in and

were totally confused when the

British Catholi...

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Time passes quite slowly

As everyone sits, trying to be patient

Most read, others fiddle with phones

One young one plays with a hand-held game

My son listens to his ipod, I write


Aged from five to 65

We sit on mismatched brown wooden chairs

Set against a very busy floral patterned carpet

“Flick, flick” reply the thumbed pages

As they waft barely audible music


There is a...

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Also by Lenford White:

Be Good To You |

from the Bacchae

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A snippet of my favourite poetry


From The Bacchae  by Euripedes

Translated by E.V.Rieu  Penguin ed.


Will they ever come to me, ever again,

The long, long dances;

on through the night till the dim stars wane?

Shall I feel the dew on my throat, or the stream

Of wind in my hair; shall our white feet gleam

In the dim expanses?

Oh feet of a fawn to the greenwood fled

Alone I the grass ...

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Also by Freda Davis:

Resting in the Labour ward. |

My Minds Transition




This is the new testament;

God said cover me
take the bullets & as you fall cast no shadow –
we’ve no sympathy for martyrs
even to the people who stand to witness the end of a hero;
The re- birth of a world with nothing but its history.
So I compose for a little while; musing with a smile,
I'm not John Holt, they call me God’s problem child
it’s my world, ...

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Cold Edge of Morning

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A dalliance

A dance untimed

Spanning bridges of indifference

Showing me theirs

 Me showing them a goodtime girl


Roaring like the sea

 In rages of song and rhyme

Undulating as one in the all together of getting there

Heralding the lip stained cold edge of morning

Kissing wine red a good bye and never letter



Love and loneliness wrapped in tissues of confusion

flushed ...

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Also by Augusta Darling:

One Night Stanza | Charlie |


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Allah is on both sides of the Wall

El Shaddai is on both sides of both Walls

God is on all sides of all walls

Abraham Ibrahim you are brothers

Tel Aviv Ramallah you are sisters

The world is frightened.

You could be the spark

that starts the fire

that kills us all.

For the sake of your children, compromise

to love your neighbour, compromise

to obey your God, compromise

to save the...

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Also by Dave Bradley:

Churchill |

Twins (A poetic duet)






            Why do you stare at me so, little one?

What has your soul seen before it came to me,

            that you should regard me so gravely?

            I wonder where you have come from;

            you watch me

            with such distrust.


Within my arms you have not smiled, nor

            glanced about disinterestedly as


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Thinking (a tanka) | The Sage | Six-fifteen on a Rainy Evening | Falling Stars |

the one....

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could this be? 


your the one for me?

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Also by JEFF.W:

Winter | What is love?.... |





            You couldn’t help yourself,

You just had to have a look,

A sneak preview of a boy without trouble,

A double and take of his life.



            He scared you!

Taking each shame that you threw

Like balls to a skittle still,

He never went kilter, or keeled

Under pressure, he never ventured

Your lie for his truth.




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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Stuck | Ode to the Pianist | Wetherspoons | Tickle _ Hurt |

Channel 4 Docu 'Woman with 5 husbands'

ok it's not actually called that, I cant spell big a mist.

but who thinks she had the look and words of a total psycho?
Very exciting and kinda scary.

Must write a poem about this.
Loving C4's Docu series.

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Empty Windows


Half empty people

In a half empty town

Half way through the week.


Pointless meanderings

Around a dying town centre

Wasting time between dole visits.


Soulless eyes,

Like empty windows,

Peer into closed shops.


The shops are empty

But the pubs, like the job centre,

Are full.


Grey buildings

On a summer’s day

In a dying town.


Only the flower baskets saved the day

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Also by Alan McKean:

City Canal | Lares et panates |

Under the Machine


In Childhood

In awe

Of the power

The form

The possibilities

The reach

The complex beauty of creation.


That lengthens our stride

-Inwardly, outwardly-

Enhancing life

Turning cogs

Thrusting rods

Limitless boundaries of exploration.


Village to village

City to city

Country to country

World to world,

Mind to mind,

Cyber pathways of neural conn...

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Also by Tony Stringfellow:

A point of contention, I'm sure... | Scars...again... | COFFEE CUPS AND PLATES |

A Day in the Life.....

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I lie in Corporate cleanliness
Another night, another town
Sanitised box bed, in sanitised box room
Bereft of comforts for weary hearts
Missing the homeliness of familiar faces,
The tenderness of soft skin,
The welcome kiss after the hard day is done

Traffic noise permeates the window vents
Dulling the hum of the air-con high up
No children's laughter
No bedtime stories to r...

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Also by Andy Williamson:

Carry me home. |

my love of warplanes and tragedy of failed romances...



Time stands still in a front room in early ’95.

The telly is on but the sound is off,

All About Eve plays on the stereo,

soft vocal tones and powerful guitar.

The clock says a time but that doesn’t matter

as here it is timeless.

Bev drinks a glass of wine

while I have the rest of the bottle

and a full bottle of Thunderbirds.

I will be pissed for over a d...

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a bit of a cliche but still relevant... | a poem i did when i was witth vicky | i did these in pub lol while waiting to do my open mic | southern song poem | some more poems |

Keep Talking

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Keep Talking


I look well

But I’ve lost weight

I look a bit tired

But it suits, apparently

I um and ah and nod appropriately

And my ears aren’t here

And she keeps talking

I’m so lucky to get up when I like

And I’m desperately trying to work out how

To explain how it can take all day

To summon the strength to make the tea

And even then I need someone in there with me

And I’m only ma...

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The Taleban are skittin' me Nan

The telly said the Taleban would bring terror to our streets,

So our Ronny went to Afghanistan, to inflict some big defeats.

Yes, he had them on the run, but they must have run quite far,

‘Cos they got back here before him and vandalised his car.


For the Taleban are crafty, they hang about our street,

Wearing trekkies, baseball caps and  drinking vodka neat,

They’ve shaved  their beards ,...

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Also by stephen smith:

Cure cure | Home in the Country |

Inside Out

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outsider art

is better indoors

on days when it is


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Also by Richard Bergman:

I wish I had penned that pt- 1 | Shopping in Greenwich | August | Past - Time | Two Larger Than Life Ladies | Abstract | Considering Others |

I wish that I was Brilliant

I wish that I was brilliant
Impeccably resilient
And resolute and aspirant
To be even more excellent
Than others that are brilliant
And others that are excellent
With mothers that will smother
Them in utter love and other
Bits of praise that lasts for days and days
Because they’re just born to amaze
And that is what I want to be
To a tolerable degree
At least, or maybe just this once
The c...

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Also by Sophie Hall:

The Awkward Corridor Conversation |

Sense of Silence

Let the silence grow within
like a secret never told,
like a fist clutching from inside,
like sunset on quiet sea.
The secret whispers, then,
deep into eyes that don’t see.
The hand unfolds, then,
reveals what was never kept.
The night caresses the day,
torn like ancient gods once were,
and silence spreads without a gesture
and opens motherly eyes offering, at last,
the most demanding shelter.

From Senses


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On Taking My Daughter To Uni.

On Taking My Daughter to Uni.

  We whirly burly roar in stacked hairy chug -chug to

Teensy flat with drill and measure

For cheeslet space.

Oh, bright-jewelled daughter listen well and

Bury the lardy sofa and face-book mats for

Garanding booklet space with

Eyes that grip the spaceous green trails

Of dinting groveous thoughts!

 Beware the smootherous amorit

That hungles hearts in shiny bl...

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For Silence

i want to join you asleep
at the edge off sunrise
and groan gently
across the breeze
into your eyebrows.

i want to carry you across
the finish line
in a camera shot finish
without you even
stirring slightly once.

want to score the winning goal
at wembley in injury time
and have you asleep
smiling on my shoulder
all the way home.

Want to look at the frozen tide
which is calling ...

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Here, there and everywhere

Rules were made for breaking

I want to break them with you

History was made for making

I want to make it with you

Risks were made for taking

I want to take them with you

The Earth was made for shaking

I want to shake it with you


I’ll be your knight on a penny farthing

You be my damsel in a sequined dress

We’ll ride away on a sunken highway

Broke bu...

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Also by Horace Thespider:

When I'm winding cleaners |

Timelessness of love

It's time for our walk in the woods,

Away from the hubbub of the day,

We hide and we pray,

The evergreen scent hones our deadened senses,

As we move to feel that before, we could not even touch.


And in a starry, cloudless sky,

The moon dusts the dewy boughs of the trees,

Shining through every drop with ease,

Shining down the shimmering spotlights that we shared,

As the hours pl...

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Also by Joshua Van-Cook:

Griffin | Texting | Diary of Ian Curtis | Raincoat | Ebay |

Writing 'I Love you' in slow motion

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I’m writing I love you in slow motion
that should make it last longer
it’s a little superstition of mine
pen cannot justify feelings
as intense as this
but I shall try
wrote my first love poem at six
and 9 degrees in the playground
by the bikes tin shack shells
we had ink wells reserved for numeric tells
but I didn’t use them
and in carved desks, scribed the graffitied dregs of lovers before

I ignored their w...

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six dates

five weeks
cinema seats

four minute
three a.m
sofa retreats

'too busy'
two words
one released

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A Fiddlers Tale

In a quaint little village

not far from here

fiddlers' romance diners

at restaurant tables on terraces

peppered with terracotta pots

overflowing parsley and thyme

and down a country lane lined

with white stone walls brimming

with alyssum rosemary and sage

leading to a curiosity shop where

a stradivarius violin with no bow

takes centre stage in the window

and there's irony in the tinkl...

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You must find another

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 have now...

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Also by Phil Golding:

To write a poem! |



High above

The moon looks down

It has seen Kings and mountains fall

Oceans come and go

As days pass it is incomplete

As days pass it is complete

Travellers salute

A diamond in the sky joins to lead

Three wise men near the end of their journey

A newborn


The son and father of all, the father and son of all

Another book is written, the secon...

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Also by Spencer Robertshaw - 07703 558825:

An Autumn evening | Love | The Walk | Lullaby |

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