Some Sort of Baby Food
It’s just where to start, just where to begin,
The boy with a bomb in the Ostermilk tin,
With a chemists collusion the passing of cash,
Salt-peter, sulphur and ground charcoal ash.
The boy was quite young being just eight or nine,
The making of gunpowder well in his time,
A bomb or a banger ‘just questions of scale’,
Friday 31st December 2010 8:54 pm
Peer amid the Pyramids
Can you count the grains of sand?
There are more than enough there
to build pathways to a new land.
Cement them all together then
and let's do the same with man,
make the effort to bring strength
and peace that all can understand.
For in the end there will be a need
for peace if mankind is to survive,
as only without these conflicts can
we hope to ha...
Friday 31st December 2010 5:12 pm
I watch and stand
and let a passing cloud
hit by moonlight
make a rimmed spectacle
of a distant want.
I shift my weight and
and recall wordless
putting into words
It's the words,
with their wanton
that bleat silently
against the ear
as yet un-marked
Friday 31st December 2010 12:30 am
Also by Tommy Carroll:Daughter: In the year 2020 | The Nearly Moon |
Been involved in this comeptition since July, really need people to register on the website and then click on the stars below the video to vote for me!
Thursday 30th December 2010 9:20 pm
Also by Mark Mr T Thompson:Personal possibility | A less formal (peformance based) approach to analysing my lyricism | Poetic theme developed | Moving the same theme towards poetry | More on a theme | Hardly original, but still my perspective | Something a little more formal! | Manorlogz |
Oh polar bear rolling,
So tousled, so rumpled
such spikeywet furrings
so fluff and so jumpled
And growlings and strokings
And grumping and gruffing
And paddy paws loving
Bear tender and rubbing
And rolling and butting
And nuzzling caresses
Oh polar bear loving -
It always impresses!
Thursday 30th December 2010 8:49 pm
Also by Ann Foxglove:you called me | questions | silver polish | primroses and tadpoles | Surround me - London cries | plump blond girl | ghazal (ruby slippers) | ghazal ( Fibonacci swirl) | ghazal ( snow for me) | mole | tunguska | life'sabitchhaiku | is this a fibonacci poem? |
December evening crisply cold
solitary stroll in falling snow
with soft breath starflakes cloud dispersed
soundless feet through lamplight of old globes
like full moons lifted in Atlas arms
along the muffled avenue
mellow yellow puddles gleaming at their feet
and I remember Lux flakes as they drifted
from the gaping box into the steaming washtu...
Thursday 30th December 2010 12:31 pm
Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:First Love (revised) |
You are just the sun.
Here, gone, left, right
And I merely the moon.
Passers by of the same sky
Over each other's horizons,
Cancel one another out.
Thursday 30th December 2010 11:44 am
Fire in my head
Burns in my heart
Rams in my gut
Soothes in my flesh
A sword to stroke
Love thrusts on it
Up and deep
It’s more than this
Riding on you
Giddy up down
And you in me
The thread is my blood
A psychic bind
A fetish chain
Which ties us
Always to you
And each other.
But never for long...
Thursday 30th December 2010 12:25 am
Where do birds bury their dead?
I know they do…
Walking in woodlands,
Parks, leafy streets
Cross-cut with instant meadow
Inter-lacing gardens, cross-hatched
With secretly nesting winged-wonders
Emerging to eat, scavenge, court,
Talk, endlessly talk..
Now the muffling commune of ice
Has freed blind stores of food
Beyond this killer camp of cold
Thursday 30th December 2010 12:24 am
Also by Moira Eribenne:Iris | The way you walk |
We are all dots … just waiting
to be connected to each other.
We mirror fingerprints to find a match.
Planets align as ink lines draw freely.
For a while, on borrowed time,
we find formation in crimson skies.
In backlit flight we say goodbye
To a once engaging perfect line.
Wednesday 29th December 2010 9:48 pm
eyes are following me everywhere i tread
eyes,eyes,eyes filling me with dread
they are chasing me to everywhere i go
following to places only i know
green mean eyes blue prying eyes
brown eyes of the darkest hue
they are hiding in the shaddows giving me no clue when they might appear
eyes,eyes,eyes how they sear into my soul
eyes behind cameras and cctv controls...
Wednesday 29th December 2010 7:53 pm
Be numb to me
get off your knee
cease from demeaning
my esteem for you
with your lucid hate
the hourglass leaks
coloured sand pours
rainbow streaked tears
where the rains bleached
this sunburnt heart
with the acid of your disdain
these wearied hands
no longer reach for yours
your reflection is marred
and the mirror put away
Tuesday 28th December 2010 2:55 pm
Viewed from below
the world is shallow
an irregular trickle
that settles so little
time and space just to wallow
and splash a feint shadow
to flush out tomorrow
and fashion a tableau
in which God and the Devil
by turns pull and tug
a perpetual struggle
for control of the plug.
Tuesday 28th December 2010 11:51 am
The icicles have started to drop
In a reprieve over zero degrees
These daggers, these sharks teeth beneath
Clung to the eaves like frozen feelings
Waiting to reveal
Still whole but diminished, eroded still able to feel
Shadows of themselves they fall- all finished
On the floor, its like they corroded.
The pools make lakes with the lonely
wilting around zero who goaded
Monday 27th December 2010 3:49 pm
It started life as a poem called 'The Voyage Of The Prudence', written in 1989 for a bit of amusement only. But then this poem somehow became a stage show called 'Hunting The Great White Prawn': it grew to a hour and and a half in length and involved, as well as its two characters, a band. It got successful around Folk Clubs, Arts Centres, Comedy Clubs and Festivals before imploding due to the ...
Monday 27th December 2010 11:32 am
I gaze vacantly, hopefully nodding and grunting in all the right places so as not to lengthen the tirade of mindless idiocy, pitter pattering upon my beleaguered ears, Surely its obvious about my intent to save more brain cells from sleeping to death?
Could anyone be so stupid or unaware?
I feel it more with each beat, a volatile uprising within, bubbling rage at such blissf...
Sunday 26th December 2010 12:17 am
Also by alan barlow:the ghoul | saturn |
On Christmas Eve
when every shop is shut
every thing you ever dreamed of
bought, stacked, unpacked, wrapped
every thing you couldn’t buy a distant memory
everything you meant to buy a shrugged shoulder
every card sent, every penny spent
every child snuggled warm in sleeping bed
On Christmas Eve
when every last thing is said and done
there is a speci...
Saturday 25th December 2010 12:20 am
Also by Isobel:Gaudete |
In many countries alongside the concept of Nice Santa who brings gifts for the good boys and girls there also co-exists Nasty Santa who carries a stick for beating the naughty children. In France he is known as Le Pere Fouettard.
My Santa you will never see upon your Christmas card,
The counterpart of Pere Noel: his brother, Pere Fouettard.
I know if I’m a good girl tha...
Friday 24th December 2010 10:19 pm
Also by John Coopey:70m Dash | Colliers and Kids | The Pit and the Pendulum | Gaspers | One Anglaland | Two Litre Capri |
(To “Hark The Herald Angels Sing”)
The Christmas pudding’s gone all soggy,
And I’ve burnt the Christmas cake.
The mincemeat’s oozed out of the pies,
It’s all been a big mistake.
The Yule log is one huge joke,
Santa’s sunk into the snow
Upside down – he’s done a bunk,
And the robin, that looks drunk.
I don’t know what we’re to do,
Even the turkey’s g...
Friday 24th December 2010 6:02 pm
Also by Lynn Dye:Essex | Oh, For A Modern Man! | Sharing | Ghazal |
You're only up the stairs,
moved recently from view,
you hear my happy shout,
and yes, I love you too.
Only in our bedroom
putting something right,
frowning in concentration
with sleeves rolled up tight.
Capable hands and forearms,
you're smiling at my call,
whistling through your teeth,
tapping on the wall.
Only in the next room...
Friday 24th December 2010 5:29 pm
Also by Alison Smiles:42nd Noel |
- I am a little rabbit, hrum - hrum,
I like sweet carrot, hrum - hrum,
I'm like a ferret, hrum - hrum,
Live in a burrow, hrum - hrum,
Though it's narrow, hrum - hrum,
Now I am eating cabbage, hrum - hrum,
It's for my courage, hrum - hrum.
- Dear little rabbit, tell me your habit.
- Hrum - hrum!
-Happy New Year, dear rabbit!
Friday 24th December 2010 9:29 am
Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:Give Me Your Password | Day And Night (Russian romance) | Friend | A Voice In the Wildness |
Thursday 23rd December 2010 2:43 pm
Also by Steven Kenny:One That Got Away | Revelation |
untamed aggression turns the water black
commits suicide in the operating theatre
his last action: resisting the anasthetic
the guitar strings break
disrupting the outoftune melodies
the orchestra falls silent amongst the stars
piercing themselves with their instruments;
the musicians lips are sown together
Wednesday 22nd December 2010 12:03 pm
Also by owen calvert:weed seeds on a cumtissue |
not many know
he has a twin.
Embreo split like yin and yang
encompassing the universe's majesty.
Death and rebirth.
Light and dark.
Fear and love.
And all that's in-between.
One child playful as oompa loompas
all dancing and silly songs.
The other the underside of a scratched CD
Wednesday 22nd December 2010 3:37 am
Also by Ushiku Crisafulli:We're All in this Together | Palindrome Girl |
You will miss me
when you are alone, she said,
when the tide of life’s cold wind
freezes about your head
when the sunset burns red
and only you are there to see
when the laughing of the stream
mocks you in your stead
when your arms wrap around nothing
as they search your empty bed
when you melt at seeing a smile
but wake from dreaming it instead
Tuesday 21st December 2010 4:43 pm
Also by Dermot Glennon:Where dragons and maidens are no more |
I’m still alive kicking up a storm
Crash bang bitch talk
Yes oh yes
The sort of talk that I like when I have a mind
Don’t you know?
Like you didn’t know
Lay me like a blade cold as chrome
Crawdaddy kisses down my spine
They burn like ice
Mind and eye filling
Spilling over and over with stingsong
The gone wrong too ...
Tuesday 21st December 2010 3:45 pm
We are snug blanketed under a layer, thick and soft
the wreck of the garden beautified by it
the rooves insulated
gate iron curlicued
thickened in outline
a stuttering blurred underlining
Walking and feeling the tense squeak
unfamiliar gait to ache our thighs
we are un-gendered,
crack of face, eyes skenning
Tuesday 21st December 2010 8:28 am
30th December 2010
The People's Mass
The Limelight Church
136 Shaftesbury Avenue
Monday 20th December 2010 7:57 pm
Also by Alain English:The War You Don't See Review | "I'll Be All Right Tomorrow" and "Touch" reviews | Shannon Trust Reviews - Final Part | Prose and Cons | NO-ONE KNOWS | Art By Offenders | Shannon Trust Reviews Part 2 | Shannon Trust Reviews - Part 1 | Politics Roundup Part 1 | More Poetry Reviews | Final gigs of 2010... | Poetry Reviews |
Here is a very cliche, very self indulgent but sincere poem I wanted to share with all of you. Thanks for reading and commenting on previous poems :-)
This year I took the leap of faith
Jumped off a couple of roundabouts
Strolled down a few different avenues
when the snow has melted on roofs and trees
and birds sit on the wires once ...
Monday 20th December 2010 12:43 pm
One evening in the gloaming with the hour approaching late
I heard a sound, just ask my cat, he may corroborate.
I quickly went alfresco, thought I'd better take a look
A crowd of farmers gathered round to watch a donnybrook.
One farmer in pyjamas with a rubicund complexion,
Officious and unlaundered too, I thought, on close inspection,
Screamed words so execrable ...
Monday 20th December 2010 8:38 am
God could have sent his Son
a million different ways.
But look at what he chose.
I'll tell you what it says.
It says open your hearts,
It says be generous and free,
Look outside your little box
That's what he's saying to you and me.
Mary was not respectable,
Pregnant before she was wed.
Open your hearts to unmarried mothers.
That's really ...
Sunday 19th December 2010 3:28 pm
Also by Dave Bradley:unwanted wants | Shopping Ghazal | Daily Battle | Where are You? | Shahla Jahed is dead |
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
But don’t feel contented instead please beware,
Because soon that old creep Santa Claus will be there.
I know what you’re thinking ‘he’s just a kind old man’
But don’t let him fool you, you know that’s his plan.
Therefore it is only my duty to suggest ways to divert,
Saturday 18th December 2010 3:58 am
Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.
Worked nights so didn’t see much of it
but in his head he’d got stories of
the Fire God supreme,
vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.
He called the Sun ‘Hero’,
believed it had six pairs of arms,
giant wings of flame
and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.
Made moons blush
Friday 17th December 2010 1:38 pm
I was travelling in America in October and while I was there I did this poem at Chicago's famous Uptown Poetry Slam, 'where slam began', which was a fab night, go there if you can! Well I had to didn't I? This poem is about my fascinations and contradictions about that great nation, partly why I was there. (The photo is me, there, honest, just taken on my rubbish mobile.)
Thursday 16th December 2010 5:06 pm
Out there we have a world.
I doubt myself, my hands like lace,
pale anaemic whispers, and touch the air.
It is heavy like a pallbearer’s lung,
it is, where my eye meets, rust.
“Remember me” - What youth I have!
Thin and untidy, knotted and Ophelia,
under my fingernails, and innate,
leaping out of my throat. Unkissed.
There are ...
Thursday 16th December 2010 1:24 pm
Also by Marianne Daniels:Rhombus | The Yell Room | The Ask of Conversation |
Religion’s been hijacked.
But some people will nick anything if it’s not nailed down.
Sound is light, light is sound.
So, does the sun stuff notes with Helium and let them go?
Lord let them soar; they’re too fly not to fly.
God never whispers.
Wednesday 15th December 2010 9:35 pm
but can imagine you
stood there even now
in your uniform
with your slightly bent cap.
I never looked up at you
and said with a wide eyed
you were almost
as a big as a tree
(All 6 foot 4 of you).
Never served beside you
through the mud in Burma
which must have been
hell to crawl through
before being transferred
possibly against your choic...
Tuesday 14th December 2010 9:11 pm
The lack of poetry is symbolic of the deadness of soul i have felt, Since we have been no longer 'us', Mourning the love of a caring hand calming the head rush, My tears fall within now, And only surface when the vessel is flooded, I cant afford to think, So my movements are accelerated, Because i know if i stop the feeling will kill me, I miss the kiss in the morning, The saftey of arriv...
Tuesday 14th December 2010 12:36 am
Wake up christmas morning
Force myself out of bed.
The happy day is dawning
And my head's full of dread.
Walk downstairs, the house is cold
And you're a sorry sight
Looking about 100 years old.
Was it just another fight?
There are gifts under the tree
But no one gives a sh*t
False smiles show no ounce of glee
Is this really it?
It's not the gifts that we don't like
Friday 10th December 2010 12:00 pm
Also by MissLucy:Snowflake |
Lines written in the Tudor House on the 30thAnniversary of the death of John Lennon
You hook-nosed bastard
You made specs sexy
And played a mean Rickenbacker
Attention seeking nihilist
Gob shite scouser
Merciless poison-tongued delinquent
Hiding the quiet man inside
To my dad’s amazement
You grew up and flew away
Sharing your dreams...
Friday 10th December 2010 11:18 am
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
A long time ago,
I was told
to give up
and I listened.
A long time ago,
it was suggested
that I find a man
to take me home
and make me his wife.
This would be the life
but it was not the future
I had in mind.
I wanted to fly.
I wanted my dreams
to breathe the air
that we take for granted.
I wanted ...
Thursday 9th December 2010 9:13 pm
Full on the lips
My heart was kissed
Upon this watershed
Their gentle flow
to reveal a new
understanding of love
Thursday 9th December 2010 4:59 pm
Also by Shoeless Carole:Silver |
There is trouble in the nursery.
The children ask for more.
They are climbing up the curtains.
They are stamping on the floor.
Nanny State is spanking them.
She weilds her wooden spoon,
But the children run about her.
They are crying for the moon.
Why don’t they eat their porridge up?
They call for toast and egg.
Where has their pocket money gone?
Thursday 9th December 2010 11:51 am
I know the places to caress
and kiss you to your little death
I'll slip my hand inside your dress
I know the places to caress
Let me alleviate your stress
until you pulse and catch your breath
I know the places to caress
and kiss you to your little death.
Tuesday 7th December 2010 12:15 pm
I make my mark on the world
not large but big enough
no highlight, fame nor fortune
but written bold with love.
Tuesday 7th December 2010 7:45 am
What is this mental condition 'depression' that has befriended me so well ?
I feel part of the belonging yet I do'nt really belong here
Is this person really me ?
She seems so different, she seems lost in the confusion of this illness
I want to find my way out of here
I want to be away from this 'depression' and be myself again...
Monday 6th December 2010 1:27 am
Also by bernadette herbertson:Short and sweet |
Undeniable stupidity brands, mutters a hopeful fear
as the scotch of mankind whoops its need.
Yet you still flip if I touch.
fall as easily as you pospone the unobtainable,
Thoughts stray, form a mumbled nuisance.
Unbidden truths urge me to pour your gibberish
Monday 6th December 2010 12:36 am
Here are the stats for November 2010.
* 4,025 registered members
* 1.9 million hits
* 2,629 log-ins to the site
* 128 new events put on gig guide
* 63 events updated on gig guide
* 15 poets added their profiles to the Poets' Showcase
* 834 Poets are now on the Showcase
* 237 poets' profiles where updated on the showcase
* 2,448 ‘comments’ w...
Sunday 5th December 2010 4:17 pm
When you wake up right in the middle of a cold cold night
and there's no such a thing as a warm blue light
with hardly anyone around
yet you're still loved
it really seems
your life is made of dreams
we breathe, neither awake nor asleep
our world falling apart, yet there's football on TV
with all there is to come - just how shall an...
Sunday 5th December 2010 11:51 am
All the way through the job interview I
desperately wanted to shout out the word
‘cunt’ very loudly. I don’t know why
but I did. I wanted to
spit it, hiss it,
scream it out in my interviewers’ faces.
I wanted to howl and growl and
bark it. I wanted them all
to know. But
I never. I just
sat there thinking:
‘cunt, cunt, cunt!’
And it’s the fact that...
Sunday 5th December 2010 8:57 am
Also by David Mac:Perfecto |