Poetry Blogs (Jan 2010)

Popular last 30 days

You Made Risotto, You Twat.

You know something, James? You broke my heart.

The horrible thing about this situation, my friend, is that I know that I'll never get an explanation. I know that I'll never get an apology. I know that you think you've done nothing wrong. It has never been more true than with you - be one hundred percent behind someone, before you stab them in the back.

I can honestly say though, that...

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When you were small,

A child at play, you’d make a world all of your own

Where you were “King” sat on the throne,

And in your world there was no suffering or pain

Just happy little children, of every race and name.


Everyone was happy, no one was alone

Everyone was cared for, food and drink for all

There everyone had innocence, the greatest g...

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Also by Carmine Grimshaw:

In the Dead of Night | Equally -Equal | Northern Rain | Lost In Drink | Cross your Fingers Count to Ten |


Slowly, ever so slowly, inching on our way;

Destination Whitby, vivid Autumn day.

Scenery magnificent, weather matching too,

Clouds of alto cirrus, sky of powder blue.


Picking up momentum now, further down the line,

Engine snorting like a mare in steady 4/4 time.

Leaning from a window, moorland coasting by,

Nigel Gresley out in front, cinder in your eye.



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Also by John Coopey:

Thumb Rings |

in Vikings' footsteps

in these streets of no joy

the quiet has disembarked

and fled


osculatory cousins

reap what they sow

in the bus shelter


as the village bike

looks on disdainfully

blowing pink bubbles



shaking hands and

chattering babies’ teeth

the icy winds of pleasantries blow


winning the land

from the sea

of muddy salt flats


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Also by Banksy:

city folk | when we met | the coffee table book | I'm Lovin' it | jay-z n dury | the walled garden | a lump in my throat | 27th July 1943 | Convoy Basrah | new man | as good as it gets | minnie me | the lollipop man | betrothed | The Suttee Show | day two | Puttamonton Park | whispers | all that glistens | Dachau | in Moniker Alley | friends | autumn leaves | summer long ago | round our way | urban planning |

Lair of the liar

I delayed leaving for work, caught a glimpse

Of a surprising sight - the Inquiry

Into Iraq, and Blair’s live appearance

How is he looking? Boyish? Furtively?

How is he acting? Innocent? Guilty?

And how is he answering? Well? Or ill?

Chilcot has got him there, true, but will he

Get him, or set him free? Well, time will tell

But now I had to leave, for duty called


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Rainbow Bright

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I still don’t know

how you take your tea


whether you’d prefer


like I lack the foresight

of if

you’d drink red

instead of white


thoroughly respected

for telling wrong

from right

for bringing those

in the shadows

back to the light

forgotten how much

it takes

for you to show

your might


displayed your...

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Also by Cat P:

Radiance | Ten |


I am not me, I am no-one.
I am but the husk,
all that remains after the birds have had their fill.
Lost and hurting,
I misplaced myself amongst the wreckage
and for me there is no 'black box'.
I do not remove the veil,
I am filled with loathing by what lies beneath,
and so, my veneer is smooth.
I hope you do not see the fissures below
because i am scared to look beyond the d...

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New Gigs Jan 31st - 4th Feb 2010

Hi guys,

Four this week from tomorrow:

Poetry N Motion - Sunday 31st January
Motion Bar Embankment London WC2N 6PA
7pm - 1am Entry £7 (All Proceeds for the Haitian Earthquake Relief)

TBC - Kid, I Wrote Back - Monday 1st February
7pm - £3 entry
Bar Kick
127 Shoreditch
High Street
London E1 6JE

Y Tuesday the Poetry Club - Tuesday 2nd February
8pm Start - Free Entry

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Also by Alain English:

This Week's Gig List | Second Skin Theatre Double Bill | PSC Meeting Stop the War: End the Siege on Gaza | Generous | Panto Poem |

Various Complications.

It begins with the singular

Then complicates.

An embryo's worst nightmare

To multiply too many

And discard a familiar friend

So one dies


Love be the perfect poison

For the imperfect

Only the ugly suffer true love.


The world is an atlas

Of invisible physics,

Equations tame confusion

For soldiers of academia

And the poor parachute


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Also by Kealan Coady:

Sarcastic at half - collapsed ridge. | A Week In Words. | Serenicity. | The Politics of Gender | Beach. |

Hearts and flowers and shit

(Valentines poem 2010)

A saying someone told to me,

these days when even love is tough,

“if you love somebody, set them free...” –

give them a false sense of security

then when they come back to you,

tie them up and ,


do stuff.

You know, like...


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Also by Dermot Glennon:

Dogmatism | No way out |


Love On Borrowed Time

Walking the tracks again
With my face to the rain
Every step I take in fear
Of that ever-nearing train

I cheated death
I cheated truth
And now there is no proof
More than what my accusers say
But they increase in number
With every single day

So they shout 'He stole'
Well, I admit
I may have borrowed some
And I may have lied
When they looked me in the eye
And I may ...

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Also by Tom Alexander:

I Am A Violent Man | The Prettiest Music | Echoes For Answers | Different Keys |





The Grenadines, Saltwhistle Bay.

I think of Robert Righteous

& de Youths Rasta Restaurant

while drinking a glass of Carrib Beer

on the shores of Saltwhistle Bay.


Lunchtime and I'm sitting under

a Rasta flag with Robert Righteous

who's an angel spreading stories,

plates of seafood, dreads and smiles

wider than Saltw...

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Also by Rodney Wood:


havoc poem

entry picture


The A20 Havocs scream over Holland at fifty feet

looking for trouble in their game of death,

they attack the canal network, a flight of six planes.

Turning tightly they start their runs,

shooting tracer shells that rip open the flimsy barges.

In a huge blast the ammo load goes up, taking a plane with it,

falling debris and bits of fire, nothing more.


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ghosts poem | trine poem based on a norwegian gal bass player | poem |


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The passionate whore,

Who opened the door,

Did not look to the future seas.

A choppy storm, the big waves formed,

As slowly she sank to her knees.

The love, no white dove,

Crippled fell from the leaves of her very tall trees.

Created so slow, but yet she didn’t know,

An object so small as a pea.

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Also by dana langland:

The Climb | Innocence |

swimming with humans

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Each day they come. We see them on the shore,

come rain or shine.

They climb aboard the boats, some with excitement,

some with trepidation.

Some look really sad.

Poor things!


The boat speeds out to where my friends and I

are frisking in the waves.

We wait for them - it’s our job, it’s what we do.



With help, they timidly descend into our r...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

Arts and Crafts | Coming Home from Evening Church | loving the knife thrower | on finding a voice | the timid Valkyrie | marriage tense | swan's down | fable | moon girl | The lovesong of a lonely vampire | our winter visitors | If I had a horse | The WOW Factor | Pollyanna | If you can read this . . . | my love is like the train waiting | newsreaders | warm me twice | twit-like | Walking home on a summer evening | weather girl | HD |

On the buses

Five minutes late already,

who in the blue fuck wrote this timetable?

My four year old would be better able to compile

something that made better sense

but that's just my two pence worth anyway.

It's a crying shame that I have to resort

to measures such as these

just to get from A to bloody B - ,

if taxis weren't so damn expensive

I might think about


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Also by S.J.:

Getting even | Mother's pride | I am woman | Sperm donor | Divorce on grounds of abuse | Invisibility powder | Facebook Stalker | Dysfunctional lovers | No me without you | Working class winter |

torture chambers

regrets presiding over the inquisition

in the torture chambers of past hurts

the subconscious relentlessly whacked

blood curdling screams shatter the present

shards of broken hearts there everywhere



the ghosts of the past stoutly refusing

stoutly refusing to yield to the future

there a fresh dawn yearning to sprout

time healing these broken hearts


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Also by jabulani mzinyathi:

gutted | fruits of failure |


It is 1975 on Antons Road

in Halewood, a new town old when built,

old with tired people thrown here by fate

and urban renewal, overrun with children

and here comes Emma, part of the flotsam

and she is crying


“What's wrong, Emma”

“They say am men'ally handicapt,

and they took Ginny away and said

ah carn marry Alan, and

ah carn have no more babies


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Also by Dave Bradley:

Satnav life | Coffin Life | A meditation - the Sun Goddess of Bidston Hill | More than a puzzle |

Mr. Skoulikaris

Mr. Skoulikaris' earthly expertize

like  dolphins, ballet beneath the seas'.

A synchronized swimmer of the soil,

his elongated torso coils, curves,

graceful and fluid through tuberous roots

and seedlings. Aerating, preparing the soil

for delicate tendrils to permeate

on their journey. Photosynthesis,

ultimate metamorphosis to saturate earth

that we might feas...

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if you want i will do....


if you do i will want...


but its down to you....


to make it for two!....


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Also by JEFF.W:

milkway.... | the end of the world..... | the beginning and the end..... | home? | the olympics | scary thoughts... | bullshit | love & hate | the fugitive | mind your tongue! | sweet sour to the point | will this never end?...... | the right way?!...... |


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I kinda get it ‘cause the snow ain’t been that bad in thirty years

And every other bed were took up with old dears

But I just slept, I weren’t shouting out like the rest

I didn’t need no help with washing or getting myself dressed

I weren’t pissing me bed and blaming the nurse

Who interspersed skin piercing, heart monitoring care

With telling me off and making it...

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To Fellow Poets




                                  To Fellow Poets


if my mind worked

like your mind

where is the joy in that

because your ideas

broaden my ideas

you thrill me

perhaps I would not say it

exactly so

but enough so

to understand your thrust and pull

to glory in your view of things

all things

I find


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Summer Storm | Directions | Waiting for Mummy | Force Seven |




We were a strange eutectic mix that summer

Clattering our bikes and rods down farmer’s tracks

In search of perfect swims and privacy.


I had, by nodding agreement,

the best collection of floats, spinners and spoons

arranged by size and colour, in the best box.

You were the only boy I ever lent one.


Approaching, in Apache crouch, our favour...

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Man Overboard

After laughter

ribbing over The Golden Rivet

and who was Blossom giving it to tonight?

A sudden screech

and thirty sunbrowned arms

shielding Pale Northern Eyes

from the burning sun.

And sommat's comin'

Sommat's comin'

kicking the fanny over

sluice with soapy bubble of

rum and oil and water.

And man the fuckin' gun Tom.

Man the fuckin' gun.


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Also by Rachel McGladdery:

They Can Be Polished | House Porn | Darling Sweatheart | Snow |

Baby Bobbies

Baby Bobbies


I’ve seen a baby bobby                       

On his baby bobby beat,                      

Only maybe 5 foot tall              

In baby stocking feet.                           


He’d got a tiny truncheon,                    

And a little pair of ‘cuffs.                      

I bet he finds it hard to run                   

With all his b...

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Many Gods But One

                                                Many Gods But One




            I want to write an epic,

An epic of proportions where

Each and every opposite, pulls

Gravitation past its orbit, to spiral

Out of minds control,

            A countenance

Of disapproving states

Like sea-saws movement bouncing

Bigger – up and down,

A balancing o...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Womb Words | Bowled Over | OXO to Oranges - Safety Words for Loving Couples! | More than Vision! | Radio of Souls | When We of Poverty, Where Next? | Ode to Nomalungelo and Child | Namibian Dousing | The Woods | Freedoms Of.............. | Oh the Hypocrisy | TRAIN TRACKS |


My appetite flaunts and my hair tangles, my bare feet flip my final fantasy, and lolling, with desperate icy doors down into my throat, god couldn't prevent this running beast from heaven if heaven didn't exist, existing in sharp cold moulds, biting delicious, I don't meet anyone, I have not known, but I bruise my eyes on window panes looking for that magic eye to take me home. The beauty...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Sterile 459 | Yellow | Paralysis | Prelude | Mandlebrot Certificate | The Assassination |


entry picture

flying over a country makes you feel nostalgic if you've done it before
just knowing you're there above all the greens and all the blues
all the people you've once met but will never see again
whilst they gaze at the morning sun

you have pierced the clouds;
which appear like the peelable skin
on the top of a warm glass of milk

awaiting the turbulence and turmoil
and to rejoin th...

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Spring Cleaning

O Sun,
you speak in metaphors

shining with a wintry discontent
grey-yellow on this dust

that dodged your view
until today

or perhaps, you are yourself
the brightest fiery metaphor of all


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Also by michael shepherd:

Being the Monna Lisa. Exclusive. | The Young Poet | The Aged Poet. for Kealan if | in praise of a fellow poet | Sunlight on white paint. For the New Year |

Hackney 5.00


A November Tuesday.

The city London.

Some at the bus stop.

Heading north.

Two lovers cross

And wait

and wait.

For the south.

There’s a black rubbish sack.


and wrapping around

an old mans legs.

He trips over,

helped up by a boy,

with pink spiked hair.

Sodium lights,

flicker on.


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Also by Ralph Dartford:

Liverpool Street | Broken Stones |

Discoveries Highway


The dream of lying naked with that perfect woman,

amongst the sweet smell of summer meadow,

beneath azure canopy.

The freshness of a sprinkling light shower,

kissing your soft delicate skin,

baked by noon day sun.

The afterglow of our love on our island green,

drenched by beads,  

lost amongst furnace toasted dunes.

Like birds of prey this imagery...

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Tear drop


Bellied, like the seed sack of a

snapdragon, protruding forward,

into life. A short life (though

a new birth, nevertheless).


Edging into a black lash jungle,

tracking a pathway clogged,

by those that went before.

It shifts balance, and tumbles.


Over the precipice, downward,

descending. Gravity - pulling this tear

into being, tracing m...

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The Gone People

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They stole my heart,those wonderful used to be,s.

always they spoke firm,neccessary words,intermingled with hardened mirth.

sat in pipe haze,waistcoated dad,s.

pie baking mum,s content to hear their own hummed repetoires

bundling in, all smiles,the big protective brother,back from unknown tricks.

those two! him and rum induced laughing Uncle,fireplace hogging clowns!



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To Poetry...

entry picture

Was it  sweet


awkward shyness?

or being failed


dreaming of olive



and greasy kisses

at the chippy

maybe suburban


or was God involved?

the blister of


my nervous disposition?

or spending

too much

time in my

bedroom cacoon


the estate

locked in thought


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Cartys Poetry Journal

Submissions saught to cartyweb@hotmail.com for the February edition of Cartys Poetry Journal.

Read the January edition below...

Carty's Poetry Journal : FREE PDF DOWNLOAD
Ships in 3–5 business days
The inaugoral January 2010 edition of Cartys Poetry Journal, a magazine of poetry of poets from Ireland and across the world.

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Also by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh:

That We May Never Have to Play Dalibors Fiddle |


On your knees

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On your knees before me

Head bowed, filled with shame

My presence is absorbing

As I softly speak your name


Gentle, but with firm command

My voice so resonates

You attend to every breath I take

Your heart pounds as it waits


So enclosed and so aware

Confined within this time

I’m wrapped around you totally

You feel so much, you’re mine



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Also by Christopher Dawson:

Denial | Time to stand still | Joy to watch | Castle Keep |


entry picture




It struck me as odd whilst adjusting my tax

How sparrows never drop dead or suffer heart attacks


So I turned from my tax form feeling quite tense

Trying to justify my thoughts and make sense


After all, what pressures intrude the nest?

The birdies can’t be too stressed or depressed


Why should the birdies be blesse...

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Also by Nells:


The Rose

The flowers unfold

as I pick the rose

walking in the park

way after dark

with my boyfriend.


I lift the rose

as i climb the fence

wondering what the passer-by thinks

of me and my boyfriend.


he lends me a hand

as he stands on the pavement

smiling with his eyes

this handsome man,

my boyfriend.


the passer-by stops

as i be...

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Also by Beulah:

the death | For Fidelity. | Artist Talking-To Artist | As Is--.He Is As He He Is. |



Before you accuse,

Bruise, someone somewhere in some distant place

You’ve never been to, and never plan on going;

Review your attachment

To this habit you have, of pretending you are not simply the sum of Yourselves-

But some great mystical creature, capable of unearthly listenings to the minds of Others.


Before you bemoan,

Drone, drown in your own imaginings


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Carry On Tuesday #36

Written for and posted to carry on tuesday

The prompt this week is from Robert Browning's
Grow Old Along With Me
Grow old along with me
the best is yet to be.

I used the line the best is yet to be, which I inserted into
the rewriting/updating of a piece I wrote a few years back.
The original poem is a stand alone piece and todays offering

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Also by Andy Sewina aka Danny A Wise:

(untitled) |

carry on tuesdaygot your letternaisaikuRobert Browning

A Moment of Clarity

The cut of your dress
As it clings to your curves
Slices my vision
Like a blade across my heart
With each nervous step
I move closer to you
The weight of the moment
Makes my feet feel like lead
Your look turns heads
All around the bar
And that green eyed
Old friend of mine

But then I'm with you
And the world flows on
Just you and I
the sounds ...

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Also by Steven Kenny:

A Walk in the Snow (Response) | A Walk in the Snow |




The Palace and the tax office are rent asunder

And the dogs and swine lord it over the corpses

And the officials are queuing for the first flight out

And the Palace and the Tax Office are rent asunder

Yeah verily the Palace and the Tax Office are rent asunder


And Papa Doc smiles from the beyond

And the undead rise and their places filled by the newl...

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They hoot that horn: “Hello!” “Goodbye”

No matter I am strolling by

And show the world the pig they are

While firing my amygdala.


My ancient ape gets in a bate

My hemispheres know mutual hate

And primal homicide thoughts blossom

Abetted by Corpus Callosum. 


They having passed, I then walk on

My endocrine excess - not gone.

I’m left to impotent...

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Also by Barrie Singleton:



Through the years, Ive sort of lost my faith in people, Watch the news everyday, So much hate in people, Never treat each other equal, Always looking down at each other, Theres always one thats got more than another, Follow fashions.......riddicule the ones that dont, They follow suit...., And persecute the ones that wont, A vicious cycle..... If you're individual they bite you, And ev...

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The Iraq Inquiry

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Hussain is dead and Bush and Blair are alive and kicking. Damn. No matter what comes out of this inquiry, which some labour politicians (and others) wrongly dismiss as 'irrelevant,' it's a great shame there will be no legal implications to it. Not unlike the invasion of Iraq.

So, hey ho, SHOCK AND AWE!

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Also by John Turner:

Good Morning World |

Splashing Emeralds

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Into the roll me down roll me over,

Of the folds of silken softness,

Of the long lost and forever,

Nowhere can find me out.


Moon and sun are hidden from me,

As my eyes close in the exquisite pain,

Long hours of neversleep or dream,

Sweet breath exchanged one for another.


Tangled cadence of liquid after music,

Surging rhythms pulsing to the a...

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Also by Augusta Darling:

Oh! Darkly You are Lovely. | Electric Tapestry |

lovelove making

The Glass House


Winter has sucked the landscape

back to black and white

but in the glass house

the world is plump and curved,

full of juice and spectrums.


We sit on the edge

of the savage garden

where tropical flowers

shred the light with their teeth.

The steamy scent

of sap and green life

soaks through our coats

and makes us sweat.


In her...

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Also by Gaia Holmes:

Audio recordings of me reading my poems for 'Poetcasting' |

January 2010. I. Anybody.

January 2010.I. Anybody.

In Africa the football hits the grass

Like a big, congealed blood clot

And bright young men fall over injured,

 Or blanch and die.

The African cup helicopters are in HD on my TV,

 But I am outside shovelling snow.


The airline bomber sets his underpants on fire

And a man is stabbed in a London street.

 Fanatics daily bomb Pakista...

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Also by jane wilcock:

Kids in Buckets |


Nameless and Shamed

All it took was a look

Preserved in pixels

And after that it seemed absurd that I could fall so quick, still,

That touch in sleep

The wrapped embrace

The stolen kisses that skimmed my face

And the morning as we woke refreshed

Fully witted, fully dressed

I felt a hand on my side

Saw a flicker of lids

All hope in truth turned to little white lies

That f...

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