Poetry Blogs (Feb 2009)

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Home

As with the previous piece, the setting is late at night in a residential children's home.
......................
Home


North Manchester, a night sliced wide
By rain for poor folk, wet like oil,
Dark as soot. Behind the bins a fox
Is chattering horribly & madly at itself,
Alarms howl in & out, sirens
Dot the borders of my hearing, wearily.

Shaun prowls the corridors like something
From The Shining, Malcolm
...

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Also by Stuart A. Paterson:

'UNQUIET SLUMBERS FOR THE SLEEPERS' |

Dreams of leaving (audio version with rant)

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Groupie

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Lamb dressed as mutton

Turns up in heels

Purely there to fuck the Wheels

Wet at the fame, she’s on a cock hunt

I call her Thrush coz she’s an irritating Cunt

He could spit in her face, she’s still putty in his hand

Refers to him by the name of his band

No shame when she meets another bed notch

Wants to compare notes about his crotch

Sad little groupie pretends to be thick

Won’t keep it ...

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The Beggar Man

He wanders so, here and there

Walking circles in the air

No direction in this path

He simply views the aftermath

And looks back over many years

Which gave him all those countless fears

And brought him now to when he stands

To see the void which he commands

 

The sorry shell which he’s become

Contains an endless vacuum

Drawing out his heart and soul

To leave him with a pointless goal

A...

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Also by Andy Williamson:

Insight | The pain of separation | Sunset | A Memory |

Sleep Paralysis

                                                                Sleep Paralysis

 

 

            I wake the recurring dream

Night following night,

Slipping in slumber a wonder

If daylight dawns again and

Though the brain battles

Brave,

            The REM gives game away.

 

            The tease of dodging

Tracers please but then,

            Searing led enters,

Pain of every bullet ...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Pacific Side Sound | FLAT 47 | Noel Hill | Sprinkle | LULIN | Breathe Son | DUCK! | BOUND! | Stranger | Moving On | Tin City | Surviving the Architects | UNPROFOR |

in a field

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I fear I may be mortally wounded
Lying now within a shell hole in this hell hole
I write this in the hope that one day it will find its way home
My comrades tell me that no two shells fall in the same place
But here four, five – ten would do and you could never tell
Eternally the sense is that my next breath may be my la

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

D 4 | the band | Hyde and seek | From a distance | D 3 | D 2 | D | Paris '46 | Love's shifting sands | Remembrance | Bump! | Private Rainbow (painbow) | Girls and bubbles | Vicar of Stiffkey | bug | little days | Constant Gardener |

This is Life

Amidst the quick pacing of the crowd,

Moving through the square of the bustling town,

The sky wore the hue of doves,

This was when the streets were still,

Albeit busy all and everywhere until,

We decided our lights were to shine until high above.

 

Perhaps a morse code to tell the gods we're okay,

Better off now we're free to think that which we say, 

Celebrate the day and party th...

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Also by Joshua Van-Cook:

Strange pairship | Surrealism of an empty-shell marriage |

you little b*****d xxxxxxxxxx

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Hello pudding

The reason I call you that is because you’re sweet and soft

The hard exterior is melted and destroyed

When I am around you

I love you for that

Sometimes you don’t listen

But I forgive you for that

Like the way you forgive me

For my stupidity

But at the end of the day

I love you

I think you know...

Or should I say I know

That you know,

Just like I know you love me,

I ...

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Also by Sarah Clark:

LOSS |

The Waste Land - T S Eliot

 

I have just been listening to 'In Our Time' on Radio 4. In it Melvyn Bragg invited a couple of 'experts' to discuss 'The Waste Land by T S Eliot. It spurred me to make a few comments of my own which I have held for years, but never expressed.


After more than eighty years of this poem's existence and endless academic analysis, what their observations amounted to was that they didn't know what...

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Also by Malpoet:

Wirral Words tonight | Australian Wedding | Anno Domini | Andy | Alone In The Garden | Ali | A Good Age | Agadir | A Day At The Circus | Burn Night | Winters |

Exposing the real foe

How empowering to know, that your enemys are less than a stones throw, away, today i realise within these bricks and mortar, im behind enemy lines, like a lamb to the slaughter, but dont fret for me my freind, for today is the day the deception ends, with wide eyes that peirce the lies, what ive been saying for years has just materialised, the shadow that loomed, has been exposed in the...

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'desertification'

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This poem 'desertification' was published in FAWWA's anthology "Lines in the Sand" late last year, on page 28.

As a friend I was asked to read this poem at John Kinsella's launch of his latest book "Shades of the Sublime and Beautiful'.

The final act was when this poem (below) inspired a young poet Marlia Douglas to write her own poem with the same title which appeared in INDIGO JOURNAL Vol3...

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Also by Frances Macaulay Forde:

'My Life As A Sari" |

Mary: Vladimir Nabokov. A review.

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            A lively little tale from the ambrosial mind of Vladimir Nabokov; through which the reader can stroll amongst its central themes of love and memories, taking in the nectarous word-play that tickles their ankles with every step taken through these delightful pages. This is typical Nabokov at his very earliest, being his first ever novel; therefore, it must be appreciate...

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Also by Matt Rakowski:

American Psycho review |

Corners

 

 

They tell me it’s like this,

That the man for me,

Is just around the corner.

I would like there to be,

A few miles,

Between me and this corner,

Before he finds me.

 

Or a few corners,

Between me and this man,

Before I embark,

On a journey to find him.

Perhaps give him time,

To walk a few corners,

In the opposite direction.

 

The...

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Also by KtD:

Sidelines | Ashes to Ashes | Loosing Her Mind | The Dawning |

Cooking the book

‘For tea,’ she said, ‘I’m making something
using the Jamie Oliver book.’
My saliva glands flowed as I wondered
what verbal confections she’d cook.

Consommé of contents
simile soup
verb vol-au-vents
liververse on toast
summary sentence salad
pages en croûte
pan-fried paragraphs with refried nouns
filleted phrases with mixed metaphors
grilled grammar with colon coulis
tetrameters of tri...

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Also by Rod Whitworth:

Haiku by Tree no. 02269 |

March Gigs

Gigs for next week are as follows:

Saturday 28th February: Gaza Benefit for Cheeky Maggot Productions. This takes place at the Cockpit Theatre in Northwest London - see Notes for details. Show starts at 7.30.

Sunday 1st March: AD-LIBS ENTERTAINMENTS MUSIC, POETRY, SPOKEN WORD AND OPEN-MIC NIGHT: This is at the Comedy Cafe in Shoreditch - nearest tube is Old Street. £5 entry before 8.30 £7 thereafter...

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Also by Alain English:

Rain Man Interview | Aberdeen Gig | Scotland Gigs 23rd and 24th February | Gigs 15-19th February | Gaza Fundraiser Cockpit Theatre 28th February |

Really want to get my work out there

I would love to share my work with all of you and just wanting to know how to do just that! Take care guys and talk to you soon

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Also by Chris Heidtbrink:

A verdict chosen | Waiting | Untitled |

Noah’s Arc

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Noah and Kyle, his wife had three sons and a very busy life.

Noah and his sons were carpenters by trade, furniture they made.

Kyle ran a petting zoo, which God thought would come in handy, too.

They all lived in a large flat, on the outskirts of Mount Ararat.

 

That night God dropped into Noah’s head as lay there asleep on his bed.

“For you a...

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Also by Phil Golding:

Blink of an Eye | WRITEOUTLOUD SALE | My Valentine Girl | Mermaids Fingers | Two Shorts |

Dreams

Dreams

 

Who send these images that enter my sleep held brain?

Who paints these images vivid that I cant remember all of?

What is the meaning of these warped images that I when asleep can see plain

But on waking am blinded and can remember little of?

Strange apparitions of times past are suddenly recalled

So real its almost as if I can touch

Is the waking world with its regularity sprawle...

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So Amazing

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So Amazing

 

I am amazed

At the skill of the horseman

As he charges down the beach

On his white henna-maned, and tailed

Wind-swepped horse.

 

I am more impressed,

Than annoyed

At the many conversationalists

That I meet, fast talking, parallel walking

And as quick as they are slow.

 

I am transported

By the fishermen

As they work anciently with white nets,

Muscles and brightly fad...

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Peacock Dreams

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Peacock Dreams

 

“Cashier to checkout seven please.”

She barely hears; behind her mask of Monday smile.

She steers each item past the barcode beep, and sleepworks

- finds that it’s the only way to make it through the disappointment, rude necessity

and shame of this small life, of “every day is like the last”

and tomorrow will be, predictably,

just the same.

Trapped on the conveyor ...

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Also by Anthony Emmerson:

Last stop before paradise. | Silent Critic | High-life-low-life |

boredomdreamsescapismromance

Paradise

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On soft warm sand I lie

Feeling the heat of the sun caressing my face.

Cool light breezes lifting my hair

Seagulls calling

And the rhythm of the waves pummelling the shore.

Tempted by the clear blue ocean

so cool and inviting

I recline on a soft cushion of sand as gentle waves lap at my breast.

Suddenly a huge wave enfolds me and I tumble

Into the foam,mouth and nose fill with salt...

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Cyber Villain

Through intricate wires and connections,
he crosses enemy lines
to obtain information, secrets
to explore and exploit,
and my walls are ready to fire,
deny his access.
But still he slips through, 
and cookies
are left behind
telling of his presence.
And my spyware
warns but does not threaten,
and my system lies open
to invasion.
And if there were a mine field 
to be set, 
I would wait in pleasure
...

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Pub Culture

PUB CULTURE

Pardon me all the way to hell -

why did we smokers and drinkers

just roll over like well - trained

shampooed poodles

and let those

stoic, boring politicians,

rottweiler self - righteous medics

and paranoid hypochondriacs

take away our pub culture?

The logic of the hounds of health

will make smoking illegal

and alcohol will be rationed

with pubs going out of fashion!

 

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Also by alan holdsworth:

DIVIDED WE FALL | Rebel | FAT LARRY'S CAFE |

TWO MINUTES

 

Jill remembers 11 August 1999

when the moon stood before the sun.

She remembers the time, 11:15 am

how light rippled through the air


how the moon stood before the sun

how it became cold as night

how light rippled through the air

how dew swallowed the grass


how it became cold as night

how trees wore dresses of printed moons

how dew swallowed the grass

how street lights turned th...

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Also by Rodney Wood:

NOT SUITABLE FOR THOSE EASILY OFFENDED |

Empty

 

I wanted him to be there -

that strange man with curling lip,

sitting at my kitchen table

first thing in the morning.

I willed him to come,

even as the coffee machine bubbled

and nearby toilet flushed.

I wanted to see his curly black hair

settling on his shoulders -

as he flicked it back.

I closed my eyes against the world,

the day ahead unwanted,

the sinking dishes ignored.

I coul...

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Also by sian howell:

In Memory of Pine | Inheritance | Appeal to the 'Bar' | (untitled) | Hot Chocolate | Black in White |

Two New Ones

Rain Dog


I saw the rain-dog

Soaked with rain,

Filled up to where

No stitch could sew

And like a jug

He overflows

Into the Scottish road.

It bends in the middle

Accommodating, holding

His extra weight.

He has carried his river far,

And his tubes ache

Like vibrating throats

And they bald like tyres

As secret minerals

Dissolved agents

...

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Party to it

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Party to it

 

Slump on the stairs with me

Lie here and talk of all we hate

As I do my best James Dean

Red label Thunderbird sedated

Eyes squint, upturned collar

Desires and designs on you

As your mates dance on the sofa

Because your folks are in Corfu

 

Bass kicks like a pissed-up ninja

And something in the kitchen crashes

You say something vodka-breathed,

Forceful, though your false...

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Also by Steve O'Connor:

Snow Marilyn |

Poets Express

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Poets Express


DATE: 11 July 2009

VENUE: Bantry Boys' Club

LOCATION: Bantry, West Cork, Ireland


1. 6 guest poets, 9 open mic slots (5 minutes each) available for anyone to get up and read their own work.

2. a children's poetry competition, 2 age groups, 8-12 and 13-16. Winners chosen anonymously by guest poets. Winners announced on the night and allowed to read their winning poem at the event.

3....

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I'm baaack...

Apologies for vanishing from your computer screens and hebden bridge pubs, but the weather and my school work were conspiring to keep me away from you, however, i have a new poem for you all :)

 

The War
 
I kissed her.
My mouth upon hers,
Her breath tasting so sweet.
I kissed her,
I looked into her eyes,
And I whispered.
I'm sorry.

I lost my common sense that night.
The next day i picked up my weapo...

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Bigger Than John Lennon

A totally un-Topical Poem.

John Lennon once said that 'The Beatles were more popular than Jesus Christ' He has often been misquoted as saying 'Bigger than Jesus Christ' I have therefore written this verse about it.
      
Jesus entered the club
And to the microphone he went.
He hushed the crowd and said
“I’d like to make an announcement.
Despite of what he said
I’m bigger than John Lennon
John was only 5 ...

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UNTITLED

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Empty Nest Syndrome

Poetic muse is gone since my son left home
I suffer now empty nest syndrome
feeling of loss someone very dear
someone who was very close . . .
the emptiness at home and me alone
only silence broken on occasion
by the ring of the telephone. . .


© 2009 Zuzanna Musial

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Our first colour TV

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When I were a short-sighted lad in shorts

Me dad brought ’ome our first colour telly

John Craven’s flowery shirts on news reports

And Pot Black’s snooker balls pocketed me

The Generation Game, wi’ ole Brucie

A feast o’ seventies orange an’ brown

Football were played on green instead o’ grey

Rolf’s pool so blue you could jump in an’ drown

King Edward the Seventh’s bright golden crown

Th...

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Best Days Of Your life

Looking back with rose tinted glasses
Handling the past with kid’s gloves
As you pass through the sunny passage of first loves
Taking the girl to the cinema you thought was so cute
Slapped backs after a sporting game of footie
Riding bikes in the hazy summer days
The blinding blaze of sun that your history that craves
A stranger’s face with sparkling eyes
From a photo you vaguely recognise

Adulthood abrup...

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you will judge us from afar

 

 

Here I am sandwiched between the pages of history

the future and the past.

With the present day too fleeting to last.

I must write to understand what I have become,

and am becoming within these pages.

Though history rages on

Like a never ending funeral dirge

when it could have been so much more.

I could have been more as well

but you will never tell that from w...

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Also by Daniel Hooks:

The A-Z of love | omega sunset | Darwin versus religion |

Out of Joy

I call him Bobbles
he's so cute
such a delight to see
I find myself smiling
sometimes baffled
by things he says to me
 
I bought Bobbles bubbles
out of joy
because it felt good to me
to give him something
I thought to myself:
would bubbles make Bobbles happy?

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His love for me is like the sea, As deep as it is wide

Seaswept by him

Stormed by blue eyes

Sucked in

 

I'm debris in his whirlpool

I'm driftwood on his tide

I'm held in squalling waters

I'm anchored by his sighs

 

Soaked to the skin

I'm pulled under

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almost illegal

took place almost illegally,
on the breakfast bar
and on the stairs
as she looked into mine,
unconvincingly
and I gazed into theirs
all of them
for there was many places
numerous different cases,
to study
every one unique
every one a full stop oblique,
number in the online catalogue,
ill repute
one girl had black hair, Bikinified
and a mole on the inner left thigh
another made me her touch her first,
proud-a cana...

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The walk home

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Shuffling along the lane

his plain black jacket, flaps in the wind.

 

skipping in the darkness, wearing her new white dress

she sparkles

 

like a snowflake, her fuzzy outline

becoming, as he wipes his glasses clean.

 

lifting her arms up to the moonlight, pressing her cheek

against his woolly sleeve

 

her youthful freshness, washes over him

exhilarating, like reaching the mounta...

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Incoming

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Incoming is a short story in the form of a poem... the story is true. The basic story was presented at an event called "Winter Soldier" in Silver Spring, Maryland, USA in March, 2008 by an Iraq War veteran.

This is my interpretation of his story. Thanks for reading.

 

Incoming

 

The desert shimmers, bakes and takes their very sense away

from those who visit here in foreign force with scant ...

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LOVE

    Reach Never reaching Feel Never feeling Be Never being   Is this love?   Understanding Demanding Giving Taking Making   This is love            

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Lost Child

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I never saw him grow up, I never watched him bloom

Taken away on the day of birth, I never knew his name!

 

I bought a cuddly rabbit and named him after me

Then left him by the bedside as a token of my love

 

A child born of a child, he didn’t stand a chance

Whisked away to a ‘better life’, I wonder where he is?

 

I know I could never have given him, all that he deserved

But did they tel...

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Also by Sam Kellaway:

Questions in shadow | Moment in Time | Coming out |

a type of..

Love is madness

sold in tescos

between christmas and easter.



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My Butter Fingered Mind

My Butter Fingered Mind

 

The poem I forgot

Would have been my bread and butter

A staple in anthologies

Where experts put a thousand

Of the best down to rest

And get credit for their edit

 

All the things I could have got

I might have bought a yacht

With the poem I forgot

 

I think its form was lyrical

It may have been satirical

 

But no! Its tone was serious

Noble and imperious

...

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Also by Simon Rennie:

Emoticontext |

More Stats

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Ever wondered which country Write Out Loud users come from? Well here's the Top Twenty from 2008


Great Britain

USA

Austria

Canada

Spain

Italy

Germany

Australia

Japan

Netherlands

Ireland

France

Hong Kong

Lebanon

Taiwan

Russia

Uruguay

China

Sweden


 

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stats

Long Way From Alice Springs

 

The red earth

a baked blood

glowing behind her

 

her hands

shield eyes

saluting the sun

as it drops

flaming

 

in moments

hemispheric

kissing the rock

then rousing

the cliffs of Dover

and home

i suggest

 

maybe

she shrugs

nonchalant

 

later

under swaggered stars

the land buzzes

with crawling bugs

of outback night

a demented radio

scratching skin

two hundred miles

fr...

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:)

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Smile kiss love heart life you me us together happiness sadness apart us me you life heart love kiss smile

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Scabby Knees!

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Scabby knees! Scabby knees!

Can I pick them, can I please?

They’re so itchy, brown and scratchy,

Crusty, flaky and quite nasty,

Like burnt pastry on a pasty,

If I pick them Mum might catch me.

 

Scabby knees! Scabby knees!

Can I pick them, can I please?

Can I scratch them, can I pick them?

Can I pull bits off and flick them?

 

Scabby knees! Sc...

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The Christening published in The object of My Affection Edited by Neil Day updated for Ellie

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For Jo, Billy and Ellie

 

Into the world

with first breath of air

Ellie came for you to care

 

Your love together

Now strengthened even more

When two became three

Opening up a new door

 

Now you pass through

To a world of love

From those around

And from God above

 

Your daughter in whose thanks we give

The Promise of His Faith to live

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Also by june slater:

The Attic of My Heart published in As Time Passes Editor Vanessa Sydenham | The Lonely Wedding Day Guest - published 2005 in Every Kind of Love Edited by Sarah Marshall | OLD SAND WORKS ROAD (Southport) |

Appointment with fear!

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Appointment with fear!

 

It's that dreaded time of year

Appointment with fear at nine

Receptionist knows I'm worried

she remembers the drama last time! 

I'm dragged kicking and screaming

into the cold clinical dentists den

from that deathly waiting room 

Why the hell am I here again?

 

I stand there ghostly white

I pause, I think he knows I'm scar...

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fearhumour

Hitler's Hat (full version)

 

With hair like that

You’d think he’d have invested some marks in a hat

Rather than the occasional military cap

To be copied all sloppy by that C Chaplin chap

 

And Hitler’s moustache was too tight for his face

And that’s what got him going in the first place

 

No moustache lightener for the leader of the Arian race

 

Like a mini black whole imploding under his nose

His tightening...

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