Poetry Blogs (2009, Napowrimo 2019)
Always remember -
endings are new beginnings.
Here’s to the future,
where an ending waits for me
while my words live forever.
Tuesday 30th April 2019 2:31 pm
We Humans are immortal if we choose to be
Drifting on the ether or the digitised streams
Of social media networks and video channels
Whilst our bodies turn to dust beneath the soil.
Our likeness Our actions Our spirit Our thoughts
Our friends Our interactions Our choices Our life
Free spirits inhabiting the space we call Home
Monday 29th April 2019 2:43 pm
Thank you for your honesty
Without your vivid colours
These experiences would be shadows
Colourless and somehow unreal
But now we see sickly colours of the gas
We feel the helpless panic of the scurry
We touch the comrade writhing in the deadly sea
Your stressed heartbeat
The hopelessness of loss
Despair at the trudge
Sunday 28th April 2019 4:28 pm
Sonnet 91 In The Age Of The Slow Departure
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some like to brag of money that they make
Some just want the power to force their will
Some never choose to give but only take.
And every politician takes a vow
To do the people’s true will without fail
Yet what are all these promises worth now
The desperate cry is screamed to no...
Saturday 27th April 2019 11:31 am
Jimmy Is A Ghost
Jimmy is a ghost
Of the man he used to be
He sits in the rain
Drinking second hand tea
And he hopes that his kids
Will never have to see
His hands outstretched
In an ignored plea
Yeah Jimmy is a ghost
Jimmy is a ghost
Off of Oxford Street
He has nothing left to barter
He has nothing left to eat
Just threadbare dreams
Friday 26th April 2019 3:26 pm
And all the doors looked all the same again
He stopped at number one to sneak a look
Here he heard the clearing of ash and soot
And all the doors looked all the same, again
He stopped, at number four he stood once more
To inhale the smell of Vim on tiled floor
And, all the doors looked all the same, again
He stopped at number nine, to check the time
The cuckoo clo...
Friday 26th April 2019 10:36 am
Why Do They Call You Summer?
Why do they call you summer
When your name is April?
Your fragrant scent of early roses
Permeates the room
And sunlight cuts across
The blue Axminster carpet
Bleaching the swirling dust
And warms tables to the touch.
I long for your cool hands
Across my fevered brow
But all you give me
Is clammy, blanketing heat.
Friday 26th April 2019 12:00 am
A Rose By Any Other Name
If I were a doctor
Treating your wounds
Your bile and liver
You would welcome me
If I were a restaurateur
Feeding you for free
Flavouring your drinks
Would you not welcome me?
I am clockmaker
Like summer sun
On the breeze
You do not welcome me
I am the l...
Wednesday 24th April 2019 2:24 pm
I am the humble Wildebeest -
Mother Natures moving feast.
My mother warned “Don’t wander off
or you’ll end up a Lion’s scoff”.
Some folk call me a Gnu,
I’ve heard it all, there’s nothing new
In puns that you may decide to frame
around this inauspicious name.
I guess I’ll never have a life
of family bliss with kids and wife,
cause every da...
Tuesday 23rd April 2019 3:00 pm
Girl With Tear
She was having one of those bad hair days
The crystal blue eyed girl
The perfect lashes
The cultured brow
Outside the sky was the colour of slate
But the diagonal screen kept the night away
All she wanted was some square jawed Joe
To trample into her simple temple
All she ever got was schmucks
Them’s the breaks Daddy-o
Her face like some sunburn...
Monday 22nd April 2019 11:44 pm
Monday Morning – 9AM
He calls the meeting to order
The alligator with the human skin briefcase
Teeth like buzz-saw blades
She raises the first objection
The girl with butterfly wings
Muddy puddles for eyes
The maggot takes the minutes
Slowly chewing the page
Drizzling ink-blood on paper
A firefly drifts aimlessly
From subject to subject...
Sunday 21st April 2019 3:33 pm
Fur coat, no knickers.
No better than she ought to be.
Common as muck.
Too clever for her own good.
Slung out lines to stunt and mould,
ensure she doesn't reach her goals.
Keep her tight inside a box,
locked away from greatness.
Slappers, tarts, MILFs and cougars,
girl next door with Page 3 hooters,
sluts and slags and dirty bitches,
fried egg tits a...
Saturday 20th April 2019 11:53 am
He did everything backards-road round
Put on his coit
And pulled his hat on his eead
Washed his face wi’a wet dish-claht
And I’m like Whatever
Kids were art laiking
Ran off darn a ginnel
Waiting back at home
Some spice afore then
A ha’porth’a Spanish
Wash it darn
Wi’a sup er watter
Saturday 20th April 2019 11:09 am
Friday 19th April 2019 11:51 am
Elegy For A Ghost
Some say ghosts are chilling things
Ethereal and fleeting
But they’re not
They are the empty chair
The pint not bought in a round
The hiss at the end of a telephone line
The deleting of a mobile number
They are the sad spaces
That once held you
On the terraces
At the bar
In the conversation
Ghosts are sad things
Thursday 18th April 2019 1:58 pm
Because our blue-lit journey took us into A and E,
then obs on a proper ward,
I didn’t clear drawers containing sailor whites or flags.
It wasn’t me that sorted photographs,
twenty sets of dentures, broken glasses,
or all the empty bottles that he’d stashed beneath the bed.
Because I’d pleasepleasepleased to the hospital with you,
all I got to see were empty rooms.
Thursday 18th April 2019 1:00 pm
Down At The End Of Lonely Street
Sat in the Tupelo hardware store
Waiting for a buyer to arrive
A price tag hanging from my neck
Six dollars ninety five
When a woman and a scrawny kid
Come through the big glass door
Her name is Gladys the proprietor says
And they both look run down poor
It’s January nineteen forty six
Close to his birthday I’m told
Wednesday 17th April 2019 2:47 pm
From The Attic
A wooden chest, labelled ‘Uncle Jack’
Slowly I start to unpack:
Inside there sits some dusty books
Carefully placed so if someone looks
They will not see what’s underneath
A collection of human teeth
A fine, silken, black top hat
A jar half full of congealed fat
Some boiled sweets in a paper cone
Something that looks like a finger bone
Tuesday 16th April 2019 4:51 pm
T’was the twenty fourth of February,
eighteen thirty four,
when the Tolpuddle sheriff
came a’knocking at my door.
Served with a warrant
I was swiftly hastened away
for taking an illegal oath
to challenge my meagre pay.
You see we were only paid six shillings a week
for working the squires land,
so we set up a trade union
and in our little band...
Monday 15th April 2019 2:44 pm
Raising The Standards (With Banners Held High)
You said that you wanted a land fit for heroes,
a place to call home that they’d show off with pride
but somewhere along the way you forgot
the reasons they fought and the reasons they died.
They thought they were fighting for honour and justice,
suppressing the tyrants and saving our land -
but returned to a country tha...
Sunday 14th April 2019 5:29 pm
Moulded from my own fair hands
At the age of not very old
I still remember the cold, clammy clay
And the satisfying way
It was slice from the workboard
By a length of taut wire
Painted blue and green and red
And glazed with over ardour
So that the glistening sheen
hardened into rivulets
That have the appearance
Of old sneeze
Baked in m...
Saturday 13th April 2019 10:52 am
I have no roots –
Present becomes past before my eyes
Life is lived, recorded there, somehow,
More or less imperfectly inscribed
Within my head, thus stored behind my brow.
These things exist for me, just in my mind,
For if I try to seek them out again
There’s only ever something new to find:
Nothing in the stillness can remain.
I have no root...
Friday 12th April 2019 9:25 pm
I cannot say for certain where I’m ‘from’
beyond the day I crawled into this world
and that’s the way I like it, truth be told,
to shape my own existence from the start.
That blond boy there with freckles and basin cut,
a shy one, wearing simple NHS specs,
in clothes bought big so he could grow
to fill them on a diet of Yorkshire pud.
An artist’s bent...
Thursday 11th April 2019 2:17 pm
it were cracking’t pavements
the sky were chelsea blue
you were sucking cider
from an ice lolly
cos they said it made yer drunk
and we pretended it did
when yer scored a goal
on’t hay coloured pitch
yer mates were hot ‘n sweaty
and their celebrations
trickled down yer back
and salted yer lips
there were standpipes
at end’er sherwood...
Wednesday 10th April 2019 12:36 pm
A List Of Things We Buried In The Garden
- A photograph of better times.
- An empty bottle of scotch.
- A well thumbed copy of ‘True Crimes’.
- A useless, broken watch.
- Seven bottles of little white pills.
- A pair of latex gloves.
- A folder with a thousand bills.
- A bunch of dead foxgloves.
- The broken vase they occupied...
Tuesday 9th April 2019 11:42 am
Blue On Blue Contact
This blue on blue contact
is really rather fun.
Amber shoots at Boris
with her metaphoric gun,
Michael snipes at Dominic,
Andrea shoots from the hip
And Jacob assaults everyone
with his stiff upper lip.
This blue on blue contact
puts them under friendly fire -
the egotist, the pessimist
the naysayer and liar.
They all have an op...
Monday 8th April 2019 12:34 pm
A quiet corner of the room,
curtains drawn to the night,
the gentle glow from simple lamp
that casts a magic light,
a book opened, page twenty three,
with hundreds yet to read,
the urgent ticking of the clock
muffled, paid no heed.
A glass of something warming
and shortbread on a plate,
the crackle of a fire
that dances in the grate,...
Sunday 7th April 2019 1:52 pm
the cat was sick
I cared for it
which made me late
to catch the bus
which got caught up
in traffic jams
so I got off
to walk the last few blocks
which made me sweat
under the blue sky
my brow was wet
out of breath
I stepped inside
a coffee shop
and bought a cup
and spilt the lot
because I ...
Sunday 7th April 2019 12:12 am
The Parable Of The Wolf And The Lamb.
We are the men of peace, they say,
we hide in plain sight of you all
taking their innocence away.
We simply ask that you will pray
for those who sin and those who fall.
We are the men of peace, they say.
We ask for penance every day,
we prey upon the week and small,
taking their innocence away.
We look after th...
Friday 5th April 2019 11:31 am
This morning’s glorious golden hour
On this day, leaves me cold.
The sweet dawn chorus lingers on
No joys to me unfold.
No light or beauty penetrates
The fog within my head.
Become so numb, I can but wait
In longing, for my bed.
For National Poetry Month 3rd April 2019 – prompt from IG @tristameer “use the word ‘golden’ in a poem”.
Wednesday 3rd April 2019 1:07 pm
hide and seek
one thousand and one
one thousand and
my head pressed against the bark
on the tree by the pond side
where the ducks quack back
at the boy with the ball
whose dreams are
not yet fully formed
two one thousand and three
sat by the brown muddy water
with schoolbooks spilling from bags
a kiss on the cheek
and we carve ...
Wednesday 3rd April 2019 12:30 pm
Time To Decide Patsy
I’m sat amongst the boxes
In my nest not in a tree
The November sun is dazzling
It’s nineteen sixty three
In the land of the brave
In the land of the free
I’m learning how to kill
In the book depository
I look down the barrel
To see what I can see
A woman dressed in pink
Her hand is on his knee
I squint at his head
It’s just him ...
Tuesday 2nd April 2019 4:48 pm
NaPoWriMo Day 2 Prompt: Ends with a question
D’you know what I mean?
Its not like I haven’t not tried
Had I not made it quite unclear
He denied they’d never not lied
Not so deaf as will never not hear
I didn’t not say what it wasn’t before
It wasn’t untrue on the whole
Can’t prove its not wrong or right less or more
Blue sky free fall thinkin’s my role
Tuesday 2nd April 2019 1:19 pm
Stay up until all hours with work stuff,
Then wonder why the kids act at their worst,
Insist they play alone when you feel rough,
Then wonder which will throw a tantrum first.
You promise something then you make them wait,
Then wonder why they give you endless grief,
Sling insults when the school run’s running late,
Then wonder why they’re lacking self-belief.
Monday 1st April 2019 8:40 pm
Recipe For Disaster
Make sure you’ve got a big bowl.
OK, we’re ready to commence.
Take a pinch of honesty,
add an ounce of common sense,
stir in bloody mindedness,
gently fold in care,
season it with integrity
(if you’ve got any spare),
sprinkle it with passion,
avoid the nuts and flakes,
put it in a hot oven
and see how long it takes
for it to become bu...
Monday 1st April 2019 2:52 pm