Poetry Blogs (Mar 2009)
Flashbacks haunt me, images of poverty, little slum kid getting six years for robbery, dwelling in the pits, dirty faces and no shoe laces, bruised eyes,scrapes and blood traces, the eighties the nineties, saw the same picture, the noughties, still we craft the same scriptures, its daunting... Trapped in these industrial ghettos, BUT THERE AINT NO MILLS NO MORE SO LET US GO!! little s...
Tuesday 31st March 2009 4:32 pm
Awake, look and see,
See all the wasted peoples
Feeble’d by a system flawed,
When provocation matters
More than healing,
Will you be ready for recourse?
Those that live the life
Do they know the truth
Of pain, pain from sacrifice
From those they use as slave...
Monday 30th March 2009 11:46 pm
Also by Noetic-fret!:Are Tramps Objectively Treated? | Talkin All Dat Jazz | Persia | Missing You | People Like You | These Souls Bleed Real Love | A Void In Heywood | A Simple Case of Child Hate | Sacred Cycles | Why This Life? | A Million Scalps You Took | Sun Kissed | Remote Control | Holiday | Niburu's Witness | Where the Fekk Am I Mister Pegasus | A Langdale Surprise |
Shadow, companion to those who take rest,
you that expands yourself in the drowsy eye of the fading light,
why do you sometimes lurk,
play havoc with the weakened mind?
Although you loom so large and sinister,
probing with your misshaped fingers,
finding so many places to lay down and hide,
dark and menacing,
I know how small you really can be
in the true light of day.
Monday 30th March 2009 7:33 pm
Also by Christopher Dawson:An Angel's Calling | Macho moderation | A Norfolk lane | A girl sat on a beach | Bingo | Laura Explorer | the Artist |
Hiya. You might know some critical
folk who refer to over-the-top poetics as 'purple' writing. I am
colour-blind and have never seen purple.
PURPLE by Dominic Berry
Purple is there
making butterfly hands in an eye's corner,
in top hat shadows when you should be sleeping.
Smells of joss sticks and cold lakes.
Purple might be naked,
with eye-liner swirls round large, flat ni...
Monday 30th March 2009 2:42 pm
My swollen belly, evidence enough for you
my accusers, who
see not my weakness
nor the advantage taken of it,
but only guilt
and gather, empty handed yet
assume the shame of acquiescence,
your judgement the vessel,
my doom the journey’s end.
The agony of ignorance explodes on my skin
and blameless stones glisten red in the sun.
Monday 30th March 2009 1:55 pm
Also by Carol Falaki:Head-case | Matching Pairs |
So Beckham is doing a timeshare
Playing for LA and Milan.
I think it’s a brilliant idea
Every player should follow his plan.
Wayne Rooney can timeshare with Watford,
Taste life outside the top flight.
Let’s see how flash his play is when
Away at Cardiff on a cold winter’s night.
Bring Ronaldo to Luton!
British football at it’s grass roots
And if, just once, he tried diving
Monday 30th March 2009 9:17 am
Nothing like love tastes so bitter in the morning
after burning all night in your embrace,
then learning my passion has been misplaced.
I am penned into my own situation comedy
with black permanent marker,
a slack smile with no laughter.
So I no longer quake, shake, rock or roll,
I am merged with dullness and deepest grey,
I am purged of useful words to say.
On the longest day I held out ...
Monday 30th March 2009 1:08 am
Also by sian howell:Loose Ends | Banana Boxes | Beware the Flowers | The Car |
I smashed a thousand reflections of myself in different mirrors the otherday!
each mirror showed a different reflection not of my own.
I melted them down into glass again
made them into on giant mirror
and smashed it again with a big pebble.
Its not that I don't like my reflection its the baggage I carry
which causes me pain and anger
I wish I could smash myself and reform the real me into-
Sunday 29th March 2009 9:17 pm
Also by Daniel Hooks:Corporate Christ! | endless living death without you! |
Sometimes when you're alone
a faint breeze blows in your hair,
You turn to look, but it has gone,
it was never really there.
You call and they come to you,
you cry and they are near,
Without them you are lost,
with them you have no fear.
Sometimes your life is hard,
and nothing is worthwhile.
But a spirit's there to guide you,
to walk that extra mile.
Sometimes when you're a...
Sunday 29th March 2009 7:52 am
Also by KtD:Moving On |
I wanted to rock on my glockenspiel
But Miss only left two bars on
Not content with a droning dum, dum, dum, dum
With my baton I bashed irrhythmically
Possessed with a dyspraxic urgency
To make music with the others
But I were playing a different song to them
Lost in a tangle of perfect pitch
And chords played out precisely
On posh violins and flutes
Saturday 28th March 2009 6:48 pm
The thunder of the street; the rhythm of the heart
Where should help begin?
What's the communities' part?
Money comes in; some wanted and some unplanned.
Agencies that work separately,
need to share the same hymn sheet.
Separate boats sailing or rowing; racing across our turf.
Merge your boards, catch the next wave
then together we will surf.
Atop the white horses we ride,
Friday 27th March 2009 10:51 pm
Accused of touching
broke down in tears.
His IT colleagues
backed him up,
Friday 27th March 2009 3:03 pm
Friday 27th March 2009 2:52 pm
Also by Alain English:Soho Streets | Gigs March 15th - 19th (Open-Mics I am doing next week) | A Painful Gift | Next Week's Gigs (March 10th -12th) |
Tell me about your traffic jam
Tell me how your are powerless
And a prisoner
When they sold the car
On the back of an empty road
You embraced it
Yet you found when you faced it
The rush hour made a choking mess
Of it all
Those painted hills are rainbows
The pots of gold
Are the overthrows of flapping tarpaulin
Dragging from the wheels
Of a lame juggernaut
Tell me about your traffic jam
The lambs to the m6 slaugh...
Friday 27th March 2009 12:03 pm
Growing inside of me I feel its form taking shape
Day by day this fresh new life grows inside of me
Taking nourishment from its parent as only a new life should
Soon this creation of brilliance within me will fill my thoughts in every waking hour
Forming peacefully within, wrapped in the comfort blanket of my body
I feel within me a presence growing but know not of how I feel as yet
A state of shock I ...
Friday 27th March 2009 1:54 am
Also by alan barlow:The living dead |
It’s Salford Shopping City in the spring
The wind blows plastic bags round and around
The taxis race round roundabouts. Swearing,
A woman with Tourette’s withdraws her pounds
The bus-stop throbs as people are let down
A man skulks smoking outside Bargain Booze
The Pound Shops, William Hills, Woolworths (closed down)
The Flea Market empty but for refuse
At quarter to five, long Post Offic...
Friday 27th March 2009 12:12 am
My thighs rise like wings.
I am an armchair:
a hand reaching for coins.
Friday 27th March 2009 12:06 am
I’d like you more if you built the world in the shape of a bee
Then it would be transportable
We would hum next to colourful flowers with soft petals
The earth would taste of honey
The air would be soft, full of warmth, furry
There would be others like us
Around us, being social
Thursday 26th March 2009 9:28 pm
The fatal kiss of targets blows upon
The wind like whispers heard in darkened rooms
The measurements become our only truth
Imagination murdered in the womb
And who would dare to question how and why?
For fear of fateful consequence to come
And judgement is that numbers are the key
For raising the attainment of just some
It’s more to justify the jobs of those
Pathetic parliamentary whores of hell
Thursday 26th March 2009 4:16 pm
each new day finds you
between Burger king
and vacant lot -
thrice times woe man with
your brimstone smile.
against the apathetic tide
these caves of Arndale.
your hand a flush
of trump card pamphlets,
in this game
black aces of repentance
as the ...
Thursday 26th March 2009 12:24 pm
Also by Anthony Emmerson:The Gift | Phoenix |
I wasn't expecting the border police.
Not in Oldham, anyway
- too far from the coast.
They came on the heels of a yellow storm,
ran-tan-tan on the door
echoed the rolling thunder.
‘We’re checking passports,’ they said
‘on a random basis.
We often do.’
I answered quick, with
‘I have no passport.’
‘Then how do you know who you are?’
‘I have a mirror,’ I said.
Thursday 26th March 2009 12:19 pm
Also by Rod Whitworth:In praise of imbalance |
Don't believe those
hounds of health
when they proclaim
and eating rich food
is very bad for you.
It's just a conspiracy
to increase production
and make us work, work,
work the whole day through!
Thursday 26th March 2009 9:50 am
Also by alan holdsworth:OBSESSIONS | QUESTION FOR WOL | PHILOSOPHY | PROPAGANDA |
Layer upon layer
of gold leaf and enamelled jewel dust
held weightless on paper wings.
Entangled in spiders’ webs,
I found their bodies folded,
vampired and hollow.
I unfolded the canvas
found their painted wings,
laid them on red velvet
inside a heart-shaped box.
probed into my...
Wednesday 25th March 2009 3:52 pm
Also by Deborah Jordan Bailey:Ask |
Furtive hand inside my pants.
Fingers do a clitoral dance.
As the feelings start to rise.
Oh yes, oh yes oh yes I cried.
A phalus pulses deep inside.
The pleasure that builds, I cannot hide.
It thrills me so into my core.
Surley I can take no more.
The sweat it sits upon my brow.
Oh my God, im comming now.
Wednesday 25th March 2009 10:37 am
Oh you bloody wonder! You miracle worker
You ruddy strike of thunder! You lyrical lurker!
I am indebted to you. You’re the epitome of skill
I have fretted for you, hear my litany if you will
My eyes liquefy, and pour blissfully through
Surprised, every time when I learn something new
You complete me, you teach me, you please me
You’re conceit-free, just peachy, you seize me
Tuesday 24th March 2009 1:47 am
Also by Sophie Hall:New poem: Vodka Strike (Quite like this one. For now) | 24 | My first open mic! |
This is a very basic recording of one of the first songs i ever wrote.
Entitled 'Blow' - it has many meanings, and there was nothing in particular driving me to write this.............well, maybe there was, but i'm not telling!
oh, and i've since added another verse!
Monday 23rd March 2009 4:35 pm
you came to rest as day broke.
Frequently you failed to rest
and as day closed you awoke:
you awoke and the nightmare continued.
What devil’s tongue rests on your lips,
spits as love sends hands to shake
- in desperate exorcism -
will they wake you or will you break?
nothing about anything makes any sense.
Tonight you will possess
everything of the nothing
the day represents.
Sunday 22nd March 2009 9:01 pm
A translation from Tomáš Hausmann
I am an expert, yes an expert
I have an expertise which
I have studied my art for many years.
It is my hobby, my work, my obsession, my life
and it is very secret
- thrilling even
It is very satisfying
I choose my basic ingredients with extreme care,
acquiring them from reliable, tested, truste...
Sunday 22nd March 2009 12:56 pm
Knew me better than I knew myself
I glanced his presence with disinterest
Enraged ego read my soul,
Calculated strength and weakness
To strategise my downfall.
Picture flashing, counties passing
Time stands still
Eternity stretched between us
Lost to all but each other
Fixed in your gaze, enchanted by your smile
Contrived nostalgia; you read my file
Create connection where there’s none.
Saturday 21st March 2009 7:02 pm
Also by Sister Solstice:Bolton Man | Awakening II | Rain | In Salford. | Fluid | Places I Remember |
Portia knows that life is a pain
just having been out shopping again.
It is a nasty continuous round, of
doing boring things in the kitchen.
Peter comes home from his tedious job.
He cannot help thinking that Portia's a slob.
She's scruffy and tired and, all of the time,
doing boring things in the kitchen.
Portia peels spuds during GMTV
while the window cleaner sees what he ...
Saturday 21st March 2009 11:48 am
Freshly cut grass and a whiff
of sea air - stung, tired city eyes
Heading for the field, we squelched our
way to the stalls
Huddled around the heat - waiting.
Hands clutched sticky pink candy
Men poked the charcoal and sharpened their prongs
“Are they ready?” I asked.
The rough hard shells, somersaulted; on the
hot bed of wire
Crackle - pop: My black trousers, speckled w...
Friday 20th March 2009 3:44 pm
Also by Belinda:The Goodbye Party |
Have you ever sat and looked
At digital photos on your screen
Have you ever looked for ORBS
Of those that once had been.
Have you seen ORBS dotted here and there
Are they truly spirits of those who once really cared
A shiver is sent down my spine as I never really knew
That ORBs exist until I was told so
There not on ever picture
I really do not understand
I am finding it all ...
Friday 20th March 2009 1:28 pm
FEATURING 'The Lost Commuters'
The Poet Laura-eate (Laura King)
Danny (Corporate Enemy No.1) Chivers
Oliver (rebel with a railcard) Gozzard
Mac (cheeky chappy) McFadden
'Cheaper than drugs, quicker than therapy'. Exchange & Mart
Saturday 11th April 2009 9.15pm @ The Brewery Gate, St Thomas Street...
Thursday 19th March 2009 1:09 pm
A collection of Comic/Nonsense Verse, 'Please Do Not Encourage This Nonsense by Purchasing This Book: Poems By Paul H. Tubb' (ISBN: 1-4251-8986-5), is now available to purchase at http://www.trafford.com/08-1436, and in time at other book vendors.
Described as, 23 Poems Not about Football, 11 that are about Football and 5 limericks. Paul Tubb has put these together, with some illustr...
Thursday 19th March 2009 9:25 am
Through the Hi-tech telescope-
the universe is flat
a skin of stars
an armour of light
there`s always a tap leaking
somewhere in the minds
the spirits in another
in your sleep
God plays piano
you singe your mind
huddle your eyes to mine
through the hi-tech telescope the universe
Wednesday 18th March 2009 9:46 am
Having read Bill Kelly's entry on the Donaldson proposals and alcohol I feel moved to submit my poem on the surveillance society! It seems to fit in part, with the desperation of the times in which we live.
We live in an age of contention.
It is almost impossible to avoid.
Life contorted in Kafkaesque, didactic commercialisation,
Driving our frenetic existence.
Too much content, violating
Monday 16th March 2009 11:39 pm
The ironblack eyebrow of Hughes
raises an inch as I arrive
and like a sad A Minor Chord
Kundera sits in his corner
as I walk through this place, the void.
I’m offered a whiskey tumbler;
taste my soul in its afterbreath.
Virginia Woolf, the curve of her
intelligent nose running through
her prose, gives a toasts to the void.
JD Salinger pours red w...
Monday 16th March 2009 9:25 pm
eeeek, this ia a bit personal... (and long!) but all the more reason for it needing to be right, so lemme know what you think and dont spare the pill / sugar the horses... Thank Yooooooou, Sally xxxx
Home Town Blues
Something always happens in my head,
when the train slows by the big red shed.
The one that squats in the industrial park,
next to the estate where I was born.
During this ...
Monday 16th March 2009 1:08 pm
In the face of certain death,
When maybe she's the best of friends
For those in pain and short of breath
Who count the sighs til morphine drip
Is once again replaced at noon
And muffled cries the silence rip
And life remains forever,
Saturday 14th March 2009 11:47 pm
Your eyes said it all, there were no words
I had no excuse, I had no defence
A moment of madness, but still I knew
Knew I had wronged you, knew it was me
But still I was blameless, another’s fault
The other had tempted me, she was the one
You sat there crying, wringing your hands
Silence so full of feeling it cut me deep with
layers of our love slipping away in every tear drop
Saturday 14th March 2009 1:50 pm
Is your granny one of those sweet old ladies?
When a waif with an evil mam and dad
lightly taps on the door in the bleak mid-winter
hoping to thaw in the warm and wanders through
does she coo and lace his misery with Tizer
throws things together from the cupboard
showing ancient housewifery lore
to make perfect rock buns
that fill the waif to his core?
So does mine.
Does she ope...
Saturday 14th March 2009 12:39 pm
Wandering wind in a waterless canyon
of dusty rock walls and gardens forgotten
entrances hidden by years of disguise
worn stony steps wind down into shade
by cascading falls of honeysuckle vine
under crabapple trees among pinion pine
in a sweet aroma of flowering yucca
bathing in fantasy beneath thorny acacia
in seasonal whites with low desert rose
entwined into native paintbrush a...
Saturday 14th March 2009 3:59 am
Also by Journey Two:Cape Disappointment |
Can the moon come out to play?
I cannot sleep tonight.
My heart is torn in two,
and a thousand tears
spill from my eyes.
I thought I could never cry
because I used to shed
so many damn tears
until I ran dry,
but the water is running freely,
dripping down my chin.
And I cannot sleep tonight.
What if when I wake,
I find her gone,
another to leave my life,
to break my heart,
and to leave me all alone...
Thursday 12th March 2009 3:49 am
The York’s Prayer
Our Dad, ‘oo art in Hebden,
Tha’s norra bad fella.
Tha’s County come,
Tha’s will be done,
On Earth as it is in Yorkshire.
Give us this day our daily barm-cake,
And don’t mind us when we bugger up.
We’ll try not to mind the buggers who bugger us up.
And lead us not into Southern ways,
But deliver us from t’mucky stuff.
For thine is this county, wi’ power ‘n’t glory,...
Wednesday 11th March 2009 3:27 pm
You whispered my name-
deafening within sleep.
blindly following your voice-
I saw you
through dream-sealed eyes
in the opened doorway
for my realisation
comfort in presence
Sunday 8th March 2009 11:36 pm
Fish heads rest on ice
Sparkling diamond gleam
No rubies here
Or crimson smears
Just mouths and eyes fixed in a scream
Plundered from dark depths
Where gloomy gardens grow
Through rocks and wrecks
Of interminable shadow
For a shop window
The murder scene’s precise
No trace of blood
Knives swish and thud
And fish heads rest on ice
Sea creatures disp...
Sunday 8th March 2009 11:34 am
It began as emotion,
More than you should bare.
It surfaced as tears.
Pure, fresh, and full of feeling.
It showed me your true self.
How can someone SO beautiful
Have so much pain inside?
It urges me to fold my arms
Around your graceful body,
Hold you close, and whisper
That all will soon be fine.
They say “experience the hurt,
To appreciate the pl...
Saturday 7th March 2009 8:49 am
It was Friday night after 10. Only
taxis and buses prowl the Reading Streets.
On my way to the station my steps
tell me that story about a lovesick
Russian Count and the aim of his affection,
Natasha, who would shoot him in the last line
of the poem. I was passing bars and clubs
where bouncers stood like crows in black overcoats
joking about small brutalities
and the power they ...
Friday 6th March 2009 8:41 pm
i see a single sparkling star in the sky
something must have stolen the others
some might say its leading our way to bethlehem
i say its a symbol of some kind of optimism
others fail to relish in its natural beauty
blinded by the smog and deafened by forgotten conversations
yeah, something certainly stole the stars - london! you cunt!
you've made the moon blush itself black!
for the love of fuck! gi...
Thursday 5th March 2009 12:31 pm
By day he looks like your dad
He acts like your dad
He even thinks like your dad
But my dad
My dad is different
He’s not one of us
Come the darkness
And the moonlight
Its in his blood
And it gets worse
He’s not like the regular
Once a month
Werewolf type dad
Changing for just one crazy night
Or the beer drinking
Once a week
Friday night with the lads
Wednesday 4th March 2009 11:13 pm