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Pointless 1

Hey! I got a new series of poems called 'Pointless.' Wanna read 'em? Well, I'll post 'em anyway. I hope you like 'em. It's pointless not liking 'em. (Right, that's enough 'ems for now.) I'll just post 'em, I mean post them, one at a time so as not to overdo the pointlessness, which would be pointless.

 

1.

Life is pointless, so is the earth

So is the sun, so is your point of view

 

Art is po...

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Awaken.

Awaken him you say?

why?

is it not better to let him sleep,

see, he is at rest,

peaceful,

better that then his rightous anger,

his swift and bloody vengeance on those

who would disturb his sleep of eons.

 

Be at peace yourself,

for it will surely come to pass

that when the time is right

he will awaken from his slumber,

then we will know the

anger and vengeance of the

forgotten one.

...

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1st Day Reflections

1st Day Reflections

 

What a day. The time’s flown

Since you came into our lives,

And here you are, all togged up,

Spick and span (for now) and five.

 

“Have you brushed your teeth properly?”

 

The 9 months pregnant pause

Before the unconfined joy.

Nothing really then to do but wait.

It didn’t matter, girl or boy.

 

“Are you sure you washed behind your ears?”

 

Everybody fussing ro...

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After a Holiday Affair

 

After a Holiday Affair

 

God damn distance!

Hurl a mountain into the sun.

Swallow the sea.

Turn the earth inside out.

Stomp on clouds!

Kick the planets out of orbit -

Do SOMETHING!

 

Be cool, fool!

Smile, converse, concentrate.

Debit: credit:

Add a splurge of madness;

Subtract a little loyalty.

Balance the impossible.

H...

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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Do Not Lay the Burden | Old Woman in a Corner | Singing To Grandma's House | Moon Month |

That selfish lover

Have you ever noticed

Have you ever learned

Did it take you long to see

Did it take you long to flee

 

The more you gave

The more they took

and when you stopped

you got an angry look

 

How they loved you

so they said

How they smiled

cause you were good in bed

 

But do not give them any more

Then you see them getting sore

Then their love it tur...

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Moving Day

What a load of stuff!

I am obese with bits,
accretion, things that keep me in orbit.

I can arrange it neatly on the floor
like sweeping up the dust.

I can walk away.

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EEK! (With acknnowledgement and apologies to Coleridge?)

John Gilpin was a citizen of credit and renown
A train band captain eek was he
of good ole London town....

Well John Gilpin is no longer
and london no more a town
but to be a true citizen
is worth of credit and renown.

the values, they have scuppered
many lost upon the track
of railroaded progression
with loads of looking back.
how can the train go forward
if it is facing abaft?
though it has two faces
it ...

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Also by Beulah:

Hope Square | basic as I am getting going |

fun isn't always easy

i am enigmas
city girls
and rows of teeth
and i am tough
on you
like heavy boots
because i'm not too shy
to show you
i care
in the present thoughts
of how we might fail
when you mistake
a sense of fun, with ease
and sit back
whilst i demonstrate
how to climb a hill

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3 poems by Chloe Ramsden (Janet's niece)

My niece was reading some of my poems while on holiday this week and it seems we have another budding poet in the family.

These are her very first attempts so please comment if you wish but no critique. Thankyou. Janet.x

 

1) Moon.

 

I am but a moon,

a light which leads the way.

Who am i?

Well what should i say!

I may be a large rock,

some say i smell like a sweaty sock

but either way

...

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Poem for Alvin

No chipmunk on his shoulder

No stardust in his eyes

Alvin parted waters

Poetic pathways to find

Led people to safe haven

Heaven's remedy on Earth

Lightened heart with laughter

Gladdened weary soul with mirth.

 

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Also by Isobel:

Words |

Familiar Environment?

Familiar Environment?

 

I hear the sound of my breath

Loud and heavy as I explore an alien,

Yet seemingly familiar environment.

 

I have to remember to keep breathing

As I crane my neck in all directions

Amazed at what I can see

 

My body is encapsulated in black

As I become more confident

And improve my glide

 

My guardian angel partly controls

My vest as I rise and fall

And feel ...

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Feast

the felt dresses the libertine skeleton

who scathes all meat as cancer,

cold air took the plate and hands are glass

with lipstick marks,

the carrot dangles

like a corpse of sin

and turning away, a figure tuts

and teeth litter the path.

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Listening to Nina Simone | Deaf and Mule | Vietnam | medicine | The Dead Mermaid | Echo and Narcissus | War Widow |

Big Chill August 2009

The Big Chill : all the right sounds but not necessarily in the right order

 

House

Garage

Punk

Funk

Dub

Rap

Beat-box

Drum ‘n’ bass

Jazz beats

Rare groove

Funked up

Multi phonic

Techno

Indie-pop

Soul

Electronic

Roots

Fusion

Hip hop

art pop

Funk laden

Rave

Deep funk

Grime

Kinetic

Electro

Lo fi

Disco

Doom metal

Baile funk

Downbeat

Acid house

Junglist

Ba...

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Also by Dave Morgan:

If........... |

Earth

Everlasting greatness,

Although slowly dying.

Relinquished its beauty for many ungreatful beings.

Them! They complain, but they aren't truly trying.

Hell is Earth!

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Lies

Lies
Are locked in a trunk
At the bottom of the sea
For no one to find.
They eat away at me
And want to escape,
But fear and guilt stand in
                         the way-
Someone else's anger
Someone else's pain.
The lies are seeping out.
You can see them in the rain,
Smell them, feel them
Embrace the truth.
The whole world knows now,
There's no one else
to blame.

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'STUFF'

I put this poem on the poetry review site, first one I had written in years and haven't fine tuned it because if I do, I feel that it will take away the specific moment of the poem. I just wrote it - tell a lie I did fine tune a couple of tiny little bits, mainly that involved the dreaded ' apostrophe'. If you looked at the poetry review, thanks for all your great comments on it and thank you all ...

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Also by Nicky Burrows:

Write Out Loud! | Lilley | Glass Eyes |

Rowan tree

All things are transient,
The rowan tree grows,
season on season.
Senses the earth breathe
and shift in her roots.
The sun feeds her leaves.
Blossoms fruit to ripe red berries.
Away the leaves fall,
Night sky winters,
And frost snaps at her branches
She will repeat to fade.

 

 



apologies to mr garside , i suspect either he or i or we have used one of these lines before

finally managed the edit , ...

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in celebration of older women

in middle age

her face speaks to me

a fingerprint in time

individual and perfect

it speaks to me

with no words

“i have

lived”

in youth bland

the same as any other

perfect peach

now

later

a vivid venus

goddess

individual

creature

a perfect thorn

amid the safe roses

i prefer the thorn

it knows things and protects the rose

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Sunflowers

 

  Put sunflowers on my coffin

  When I am gone.

  Big bold bright faces

  Lifted to the sun.

 

  Do not put roses

  Petals curled tight in

  Upon themselves

  Hiding their sweetness.

 

  No chrysanthemums

  Mediocre and melancholic

  Nothing flowers from those

  Who knew me not.

 

  Do not put lilies

  White and sterile,

  Their death stench reaching

  Down the years.

 

  ...

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Also by Cate:

A Cheeky Little Number | Our Gramps |

Want and Need

Want more radiant skin?

Go live in Chernobyl

 

Need to shed a few pounds?

Go live in Ethiopia

 

Want people to stop calling you racist?

Cut both your hands off, then your tongue

Try not to glug

  

Need people to stop calling you homophobic?

Go shag a Queer

 

Want to learn how to understand irony?

You can’t – there are no books on it.

 

Need to believe?

Try anything

 

Want colon...

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MOTHER OF THE DISAPPEARANCE

 

It's my wedding anniversary and I catch the early morning train to work.

An hour later I'm walking along a corridor, into my office on the 13th floor

and I think I must be in trouble as my boss is standing by the door.

He says, You'd better go back home. The Doctor's with your mother.



Next thing I know I'm sitting on the blue seat of a train that's pulling

out from Waterloo Station. Opp...

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Also by Rodney Wood:

A PATH THAT MIGHT LEAD NOWHERE | MY NEIGHBOUR'S EULOGY |

Upcoming Gigs

 
Monday 24th August 2009 8:00pm -10:00pm Vibe Bar, Old Truman Brewery, 91-95 Brick Lane, London E1 6QL. It's the Monologue Slam. I'm competing in the three-minute round - doing the famous 'inches speech' from the film "Any Given Sunday" as Sir Alex Ferguson!  Tickets £5 online from http://www.monologueslam.com or £7 on the door.

Survivor's Poetry Thursday August 27th 7.30pm at Tottenham Chanc...

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Ivory Towers

Ivory Towers

 

Oh for an ivory tower

From which I could dispense

My wisdom to the numpties below,

The plebs, those too dense

To comprehend the word of god,

My gospel and my revelations.

My soul/sole mission in life,

Is the edification

Of those less gifted,

And to share my wisdom,

Liberally, in large doses,

In this, my chosen fiefdom.

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Manchester Folk: I will be reading at this event

FREE ENTRY

Monday 24th Agust 19.00 - 20.30

Taurus Lounge Manchester

Presented by Katy Stewart

A collection of poets from established to up and coming; from all walks of life, backgrounds, sexualities and viewpoints - all reading their work with an intimate audience, answering questions and enjoying healthy banter. Come and have a drink and a giggle whilst appreciating the hard work that goes...

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Also by Anna Percy:

The Illustrious Magazine | Illustrious Magazine |

Silent & Cold

This poem came about when I was just playing around trying to use just three words to a line.  I'd appreciate any feedback you guys have on it!  Let me know what you think:

 

 

Silent and cold

Chills the bones

Freezes the blood

Unsettles the soul

 

Harries the mind

Wailing and shrieking

Harridan voices calling

Keening, crying, weeping

Sanity’s requiem keeping

 

The dead dance

The Da...

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Also by Steven Kenny:

On Being Alone | Watching The Clock |

Newcastle accent

I was born William Melvin Hicks on December 16, 1961 in Valdosta, Georgia. Ugh. Melvin Hicks from Georgia. Yee Har! I already had gotten off to life on the wrong foot. I was always “awake,” I guess you’d say. Some part of me clamoring for new insights and new ways to make the world a better place.

     All of this came out years down the line, in my multitude of creative interests that a...

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

I love Bill Hicks (being tickled) | waa waawaaa | Accent | is you is? | snip-snip | I Have That Tape Still | Twisted | Icelandic poem 1 In the voice of Bjork | Icelandic poem 2 In the voice of Bjork |

Second Chance

Second Chance

 

Whether to be or not to be,

To take a chance on you and me.

What to do or not to do,

A second choice for me and you.

 

Infinite possibilities there,

What to withhold or what to share.

Strands of viable outcomes meet,

Wait your permission before they seek

The path, or strand you then will take.

The random choice that’s now your fate

 

So trembling stand at crossroad, r...

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The strange death of a poet

 

The poet in question was always writing words

they were always written down as fast as lightening.

His poems grew larger than life

His muse became his wife

but if he couldn’t write he felt too much strife

his words, his verses, his stanzas began to swallow him whole

writing came out of ears and out of his soul.

They started to tattoo him in unfortunate places

...

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Also by Daniel Hooks:

Redemption |

banality cont

banal is a fist shaking with anger that is too scared to strike

banal is every kiss, tick and a nod

that should have been a diss, a cross and a shake

banal is a should that should have been done

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Also by Emma Roy- Williams:

18 months experience |

Lost and found

He was quartering the field

up and down, down and up

gripping a metal detector

intent, determined, unwavering, bowed,

concentration etched into his face.

Watched by a woman leaning on the fence

impassive, silent

like him, in her fifties

waiting


They did not know I was watching

fascinated

to see what they would find

to see why it was important

to know more about this mysterious coupl...

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Also by Dave Bradley:

Attention spans |

Crystal Kids

Crystal Kids

 

One foot flat on the floor

Hands in pockets

Other foot on the wall

Eyes like petrol puddles

Huddled hoodies, faces hidden

Skinny, skilfully rolled cig

Pinched with yellow finger tips

And perched on dry lip

Crystal kids don’t care at all

 

Crystal kids lob bricks

Glistening shards of glass

Can’t pierce bravado this thick

Can’t touch the depths of disappointment

The...

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Edge

Edge

Gone is the mind where love and hope once played,
She feels the urge to paint a world with blood.
She watches moonlight dance along the blade.

She dreams a world of red in every shade,
Would banish all the rainbow if she could.
Gone is the mind where love and hope once played.

All trust now shredded, reason torn and frayed,
A hollow corpse where once a woman stood;
She watches moonlight dance along th...

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Also by Anthony Emmerson:

"John" |

villanelledeathmurdersuicidelovebetrayal

Virtuality


Hope was a fragile angel

born of words.

A candlelight in the distance

on a dark night

after many dark nights.

A shifting shape,

a pattern in sand

formed by the wind

of our words.

A phantom of reality,

out of reach

yet always in sight.

Flickering like sunlight

between the birches.

Always there,

in the corner of my vision,

moving, like a breez...

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Also by Deborah Jordan Bailey:

Aurora |

Goshawk

Faster than thought,

His retracting pupil checks, stirs,

The yellow eye sees, movement, caught.

 

Folds wings fleeting, speeds between trees,

glides, with the grace of a dancer

in a silent world.

 

Unqualified precision, cold.

The beauty of hunger, propelled

sleekly, through a funnel of air

brushed by light feather sweeping down,

down to the ground.

 

Into the chasm, small and gr...

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Alone.....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ALONE.......

 

alone in a darken room....

the curtains are shut, the lights are dim....

feeling isolated when nobody calls in....

staring at the wall the mind is pondering....

the imagination slowly wandering....

being alone makes your mind play games...

disasociating yourself from reality....

going into a world of virtual reality.....

 

(c)2009 JEFF.W

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Also by JEFF.W:

Always there never to be forgotten.... | credit cards | Memories.... | Questions Or the Answers | Your Charms |

The Apprentice

The Apprentice

"I saw it all"
said the witness
"For I am the carpenter"
head down, foot up,
arm stretching ever more...

"Try to keep it to that line
hold it straight and true."
Teeth vibrating every stroke
board slipping, blood dripping,
from the deep cut then resulting.

"Darn it!"
Said the seamstress
"A stitch in time
you know will save nine."
Came forth from her needle tongu...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

Clammy Shadows | All Butt All |

funblood

this is war

this is war

he’s not in an amusement gallery anymore
this is it lad
this is war
waved off from Southampton dock
or one of many
in the post is sure the shock
of what is about to unfold for us all
of to Afghanistan or somewhere
 so he’s told
no one really knows the exact town for sure

or what is it like to kill a man
such questions must swell
such baggage must quell any thought
of family and friend for a while
as ...

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Shoes - Draft 1

My dad's leather shoes

Old, dormant, resting under the kitchen table

Curled up at the toe, beaten in at the back

Crispy insoles, like sandpaper, grit from the garden

And odour of turps, and beer slurped

Speckles of white paint dot the tongue

Inky blue, now a gauntly grey

Nuzzled by the dog

Sometimes, he forgets, where he kicked them off!

 

By Belinda Johnston

 

 

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The Blue Haired Girl & The Smooth Coated Tiger

The Blue Haired Girl & The Smooth Coated Tiger

You are carefully unfolded out from yourself
the blue haired girl with a sparkler for a tongue,

you are sprawled out beneath the full moon
the smooth coated Tiger with a roaring voice.

These are merely the two sides of the blue you
opened before me, but my magic is too weak
my skin too precious, I must close you up and

practice harder poetry, before I...

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Also by John G.Hall:

Septembers Birth | Blue Angel |

Last Month's Stats

Here’s what the stats are telling us happened last month:

 

1.68 million hits 2,092 log-ins to the site 145 new events put on gig guide -  A Record!! 35 events updated on gig guide 27 new poets added their profiles to the Poets' Showcase 21 poets' profiles where updated on the showcase 1,500  ‘comments’ were made 331 Blogs were made

 

Here’s the latest chart on w...

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