Poetry Blogs (Feb 2009)
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
Saturday 28th February 2009 11:34 pm
Also by Stuart A. Paterson:'UNQUIET SLUMBERS FOR THE SLEEPERS' |
Saturday 28th February 2009 6:59 pm
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 ...
Saturday 28th February 2009 9:13 am
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
Saturday 28th February 2009 7:18 am
Also by Andy Williamson:Insight | The pain of separation | Sunset | A Memory |
I wake the recurring dream
Night following night,
Slipping in slumber a wonder
If daylight dawns again and
Though the brain battles
The REM gives game away.
The tease of dodging
Tracers please but then,
Searing led enters,
Pain of every bullet ...
Saturday 28th February 2009 12:45 am
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 |
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
Saturday 28th February 2009 12:34 am
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 |
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...
Friday 27th February 2009 2:16 pm
Also by Joshua Van-Cook:Strange pairship | Surrealism of an empty-shell marriage |
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,
Thursday 26th February 2009 8:48 pm
Also by Sarah Clark:LOSS |
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...
Thursday 26th February 2009 10:28 am
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 |
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...
Wednesday 25th February 2009 11:18 am
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...
Tuesday 24th February 2009 11:58 pm
Also by Frances Macaulay Forde:'My Life As A Sari" |
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...
Tuesday 24th February 2009 10:33 pm
Also by Matt Rakowski:American Psycho review |
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.
Tuesday 24th February 2009 7:22 pm
Also by KtD:Sidelines | Ashes to Ashes | Loosing Her Mind | The Dawning |
‘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
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...
Tuesday 24th February 2009 4:18 pm
Also by Rod Whitworth:Haiku by Tree no. 02269 |
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...
Tuesday 24th February 2009 12:34 pm
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 |
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
Tuesday 24th February 2009 4:12 am
Also by Chris Heidtbrink:A verdict chosen | Waiting | Untitled |
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...
Tuesday 24th February 2009 3:11 am
Also by Phil Golding:Blink of an Eye | WRITEOUTLOUD SALE | My Valentine Girl | Mermaids Fingers | Two Shorts |
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...
Tuesday 24th February 2009 2:51 am
I am amazed
At the skill of the horseman
As he charges down the beach
On his white henna-maned, and tailed
I am more impressed,
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...
Monday 23rd February 2009 8:59 pm
“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 ...
Monday 23rd February 2009 6:07 pm
Also by Anthony Emmerson:Last stop before paradise. | Silent Critic | High-life-low-life |
On soft warm sand I lie
Feeling the heat of the sun caressing my face.
Cool light breezes lifting my hair
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...
Monday 23rd February 2009 1:50 pm
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,
are left behind
telling of his presence.
And my spyware
warns but does not threaten,
and my system lies open
And if there were a mine field
to be set,
I would wait in pleasure
Sunday 22nd February 2009 9:24 pm
Pardon me all the way to hell -
why did we smokers and drinkers
just roll over like well - trained
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!
Saturday 21st February 2009 8:44 pm
Also by alan holdsworth:DIVIDED WE FALL | Rebel | FAT LARRY'S CAFE |
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...
Saturday 21st February 2009 3:56 pm
Also by Rodney Wood:NOT SUITABLE FOR THOSE EASILY OFFENDED |
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.
Saturday 21st February 2009 3:18 pm
Also by sian howell:In Memory of Pine | Inheritance | Appeal to the 'Bar' | (untitled) | Hot Chocolate | Black in White |
I saw the rain-dog
Soaked with rain,
Filled up to where
No stitch could sew
And like a jug
Into the Scottish road.
It bends in the middle
His extra weight.
He has carried his river far,
And his tubes ache
Like vibrating throats
And they bald like tyres
As secret minerals
Saturday 21st February 2009 2:25 pm
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...
Saturday 21st February 2009 1:48 pm
Also by Steve O'Connor:Snow Marilyn |
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.
Saturday 21st February 2009 9:36 am
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 :)
My mouth upon hers,
Her breath tasting so sweet.
I kissed her,
I looked into her eyes,
And I whispered.
I lost my common sense that night.
The next day i picked up my weapo...
Thursday 19th February 2009 3:08 pm
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 ...
Thursday 19th February 2009 11:25 am
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
Tuesday 17th February 2009 9:43 pm
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
Monday 16th February 2009 6:48 pm
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
Monday 16th February 2009 5:43 pm
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...
Monday 16th February 2009 4:11 pm
Also by Daniel Hooks:The A-Z of love | omega sunset | Darwin versus religion |
I call him Bobbles
he's so cute
such a delight to see
I find myself smiling
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?
Monday 16th February 2009 2:11 pm
Seaswept by him
Stormed by blue eyes
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
Sunday 15th February 2009 4:17 pm
took place almost illegally,
on the breakfast bar
and on the stairs
as she looked into mine,
and I gazed into theirs
all of them
for there was many places
numerous different cases,
every one unique
every one a full stop oblique,
number in the online catalogue,
one girl had black hair, Bikinified
and a mole on the inner left thigh
another made me her touch her first,
Sunday 15th February 2009 2:27 pm
Shuffling along the lane
his plain black jacket, flaps in the wind.
skipping in the darkness, wearing her new white dress
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...
Sunday 15th February 2009 2:10 pm
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.
The desert shimmers, bakes and takes their very sense away
from those who visit here in foreign force with scant ...
Sunday 15th February 2009 4:09 am
Saturday 14th February 2009 7:16 pm
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...
Saturday 14th February 2009 6:06 pm
Also by Sam Kellaway:Questions in shadow | Moment in Time | Coming out |
Love is madness
sold in tescos
between christmas and easter.
Thursday 12th February 2009 12:51 am
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...
Tuesday 10th February 2009 11:58 pm
Also by Simon Rennie:Emoticontext |
Ever wondered which country Write Out Loud users come from? Well here's the Top Twenty from 2008
Tuesday 10th February 2009 10:54 am
The red earth
a baked blood
glowing behind her
saluting the sun
as it drops
kissing the rock
the cliffs of Dover
under swaggered stars
the land buzzes
with crawling bugs
of outback night
a demented radio
two hundred miles
Sunday 8th February 2009 6:25 pm
Smile kiss love heart life you me us together happiness sadness apart us me you life heart love kiss smile
Saturday 7th February 2009 2:19 pm
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...
Friday 6th February 2009 11:48 pm
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
Friday 6th February 2009 5:04 pm
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!
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...
Thursday 5th February 2009 7:21 pm
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
Tuesday 3rd February 2009 11:47 pm