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As The Moon Prevails.

The sun stands tall.

Brave comes the moon invading,

Balance of light

Fading toward blindness.

 

Fingers pointed up,

Mouths opening,

The moon now devouring the sun.

Almost covered,

Half of it vanished,

Disappearing in surrender.

David and Goliath

In the sky.

This eclipse is biblical.

Its testament, a minute long.

But what lesson can be ...

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Also by Kealan Coady:

Fireworks | The Linguist. | Selective |

For Help

 

The For Series

For  Help

 

open, sore

unwelcome untended

shackled, chain, body maimed,

unmendable labels gained

 

enamoured, hammered,

paranoid, no android:

we

 are

 human.

 

illogical, fleeting, hearts-weeping,

gleaming dreaming

us

condemned.

 

To think of this

to think of this

to think

 of

this

...

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Also by Max Wallis:

For Dicks |

The For SeriesMaxWallisFor Help

QueenZ thriving DrivE

Zac’s Soul sat nav

divined a course designed to force

his mind divorced tortured torso

To walk haunched yet safely

Toward the relative safety Of his abode

his dna post code

his familial throne

That cushioned the tirades of typhoon Tyson blows

Inccessantly thrown by the unknown.

 

This somnambulist mode emboldened

the focus of his thoughts
...

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Also by Chris Jam:

nu clear reactive creative spivZ | YoYo |

jam chrs speakeasy open mic poetry worsmith spokenmanchester segun effectuate facilitators

A Journey Through Me

The poem by which now I live
More than half of it is fancy
Splendid journey, holding beauty
exists only through me,

So high up, I can see
colorful rainbow, endlessly it seems
birds singing in my ears
sound of leaves, running streams,

Table for two, under one big tree
Lilies and grass so green
A smile on my face appears
As my love, found his way into my dreams,

He...

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TIME PORTAL

I stood upon the good, wood deck

Aways off the Azores

On high, high-seas with a saucy breeze

And the lubbers on all fours.

When St Elmo flared and ‘gulfed the poop

And me head was fit to burst

And I found meself way underground

With me protons all reversed.

They stared at me in unbelief

As their shiny kit pulsated

And backed away in some affray

Like m...

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Also by Barrie Singleton:

GRAND MAL | TIED HOUSE | DYING TO BE A HERO | LOVE CONQUERS ALL |

Sheds

There’s something that a husband like me dreads

That they ought to warn a bloke of when he weds;

That’s the fear of Our Gert’s call

And her ominous footfall;

That’s why the Great Almighty gave us sheds.

 

Before my sheds I’d guarantee fine well

I’d get caught doing nowt and I’d cop hell;

I tried mirrors round the yard and

Tripwires in the garden

And even ...

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Also by John Coopey:

Greavsie and Me | Coopey's Groupies | 20 Years from Now | Yggdrasil | North Yorks Moors Railway | Houghton Main Colliery Disaster 1975 |

I Thought White Was Beautiful

Kneeling in the grass
he sits back on his feet
sunlight glinting
in his blonde hair
and surveys his garden
he plucks and pulls out
all the weeds and grass
and the things
that shouldn't be there
throwing them in a pile
 
He gazes slowly along
the tiny blooms
of beautiful dark colors
burgundy alyssum
sapphire blue lobelia
dark red ...

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Also by Lisa Milligan:

Bye Mommy [Lyrics] | The Missing Piece | Quotations | The Cape | Heartfire | The Ultimate Sacrifice | Though The Demons Are Waiting [Lyrics] | Beauty |

Old Flame

Think the improper thoughts
think them through
to their quivering conclusion
to nakedness and molten skin
shimmering under warm moonlight

Think those improper thoughts
about friend's lovers
about co-workers, old flames
about strangers
but please
think them about me sometimes

Thinking improper thoughts
to fill boring afternoon meetings
and lonely mornings driving
...

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Also by Tom:

Proof | Adrienne | Age of Invention |

Bluebell Wood

Beneath a lush umbrella of green
we lay on a bed of violet petals.
The sun danced across our skin,
dappled and golden.
A light breeze,
gentle and caressing,
ruffled the leaves above.
The air was sweet and heady
and i fell in love.


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Sometimes....

 

Sometimes.......

Some times I think, sometimes I dream
Of future times that may be less mean
When peeps can tell the truth all day
Not hide behind some smoke screen play

If all the world had listened well
When John imagined and did tell
Everyone that they could help change
The world from war to peace ain't...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

The Embryos of Notions... | Elusive Old Friend | Capture | Uncovered | Release of the Chameleon | Feather Power | Ebb & Flo | Not Long | Bitter Pills |

Musings

The First to Depart

I found the last remaining wedding photo

behind a doll in our daughter's room.

Russian, as it happens, the doll, that is,

though I read very little into that.

There are layers of dust upon dust in the loft,

but I'm loathe to consider conversion 

at this late stage in the game.

 

I placed it on the bookshelf, where O meets P;

I'd have liked it in front of your...

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Cracks

I move through my stop-motion animation life,

surrounded by broken porcelain dolls.

Their glass eyes and twitching mouths speak to me

but I don’t hear their words, I don’t hear their words.

They move too fast, they speak too fast, too fast

for me to care.

 

They pass me in their fast forward lives,

empty chatter on the trains, in the streets.

Chittering and t...

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Also by Steven Kenny:

Symbiosis | Some Mothers Do Chav Em | Unspoken | Blood Ties (Part 3): Death (Final) | Blood Ties (Part 2): Communion | Shelf/Life |

Up The Tops

 

 

The dints of last week’s walk

still scar the turf

a white scratch

which raised sparks

last Sunday

a scrape, a scuff of ill planned heel

on rock.

The frog had gone,

an obscenity of frogspawn in it’s place

gazing blandly up

with a thousand jelly eyes.

The hare

was still there

the long thigh bones

the scraps of fur

an eye, bla...

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Also by Rachel McGladdery:

Remembering The Scharnhorst | Claustrophobia | First Communion Day |

Mr Piano

Catastrophe kisses the blind man -
is his eye lid tumbling down the stairs,
smacking whispers and gratifying his spine with noise.
What heart would cry out at the sight of a bomb
in this romance?
 
Grated with hushed fear
and fingers adopting the seat,
I harvest the solitude in your absence
that sucks me like a parched clarinet,
and my quivering wrists fa...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Ghost | Bird and Fish | A Girl On The Stairs Who Was Not There | Mule | Banshee | A Girl Cries Upon Seeing a Solitary Magpie | Imaginary Friend |

Poverty Is

Poverty Is


Poverty is a

Flood of public tears when cheap

Mince goes up 5 p

 

Poverty is to

Hunt by busy roadways for

Berries and wild greens


Poverty is the

Dock where kind fishermen toss

Squealing heads to you

 

Poverty is the

Necessity to sew plain

Smocks for little girls


Poverty  is to

Hold the old fridge...

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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

To plumb the depth of soul ( a villanelle) | October Road | The Argument | The Colour of Death Is Gold |

Paper

[Original version]

 

Monday, I played with her clitoris

Thumbed the little bump of her bliss

Asked politely for a certain type of kiss


Tuesday, told her everything was fine

Watched her dance through the fug of red wine

Hung clothes up outside on the line


Wednesday, cut her hair with a knife

Said I would make her my wife

Not thinking it wou...

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Pompeii

Thirteen clay figures in the garden

Where time ran out

Tempus fugit

Fugitives through time

Cave canem - Beware of the dog

The futile mosaic of the tragic poet.

No warnings from your gods above

As Vesuvio coughed you into the future

In the time capsule of Pompeii

With your worldly goods

And your world

Immortal as any gods

Your final acts petrified

...

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Also by Dave Carr:

Brrrh! | A study in balls | Do Not Bend Forward... |

Renga: splicing spontaneity into your writing

As part of 2010 Bath Japanese Festival, Writing Events Bath Presents: Alan Summers - Renga: splicing spontaneity into your writing Thursday May 20th 6.30 - 8.30 pm Mr B's Emporium of Reading Delights 14-15 John Street Bath, Avon BA1 2JL WHAT IS RENGA? Renga is a unique group 'collaborative' linked verse poetry form: each verse moves on and shifts away from th...

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Also by Alan Summers:

The ‘Summer Haiku Almanac' workshop & walk | Unique Writing Residency |

Writing Events Bath2010 Bath Japanese FestivalAlan SummersRenga Workshop

Go Hug Grandad

When you run at me with careless speed

And fling your arms about my neck

The world melts and I am lost to you

 

Your head on my shoulder, a soft apocalypse

Displaces time, distorts perception

I am so happy I cannot smile

 

I cannot smile or I will weep for weeks

I never knew the chasm was there

Until you held my hand and we stood at its edge

 

I w...

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Also by Simon Rennie:

All The Pies |

The Boot of a Ford Fiesta

I was born spacious

well-carpeted and welcoming,

ready to take

ready to recieve what you had to give.

I am the boot of a ford fiesta

and I love you.

 

I am with you, always

on every journey,

I am ready to move - to be moved,

no matter where you go or why.

I am the boot of a ford fiesta

and I love you.

 

You put no value in me,

Nothing ...

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Beautiful Minds

 

Some people have beautiful minds…

 

Insight to the full, fatal spectrum

of a person’s heart

the nuance to a gossamer thread

 

Ears with sense enough

to hear the tear that doesn’t drop

twisted in its own blood knot

 

Souls soft enough to sacrifice

All search for self

Yet find the answers to another’s quest

 

Tongues to find the word...

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Also by Isobel:

Write Out Loud Outstanding Poetry for February |

Sculpture

       No words can express

the grace into bronze caressed

        by a master's hand

 

The photo is of a piece by Stephen Broadbent  http://sbal.co.uk/

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Also by Dave Bradley:

Forgot | A bad night | Dad's shed | Wwoofing | Wild and woolly |

haiku

hun poems series

HUN 1

 

Deck of Glorious rising up and down,

anymore and we can’t launch.

See my mates fly off—now it’s me!

Full throttle and my Gladiator is up

and away, biplane wings biting the air,

Norway bound to kill the Hun.

What! No airfield with neat grass strip,

petrol bowsers, NAAFI shop? Are you nuts?

Where do we land? On a farm track or hidden

beach, a ro...

Read and leave comments (0)

Also by NICK ARMBRISTER:

7th city poem | mindfright poem | mustang | another chance to read my ww2 patrol boat poem... | a poem on drug dealers i met... |

Gibberish

Is it me, or is it gibberish, the way kids speak today

I just dont seem to understand a single word they say

They've mugged the English language, everything has changed

The future of the spoken word will never be the same

 

I took my teenage lads aside and to them I did quip

Hey dudes whats the word, what makes you guys all hip

Silently they stared at me, with pity i...

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Breaking News!!!

I've just been informed that my SweetTalkingGuy blog has been listed in the following article: 100 Best Poetry Blogs http://properjoes.blogspot.com/2010/03/breaking-news.html

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100 best poetry blogsSweetTalkingGuyBreaking News

Oh ! Ma ville natale

Oh ! Ma ville natale

 

Au pied  d’une montagne

Où se couche le soleil d’Afrique noire,

Ville s’étendant sur la plaine

Recevant le vent du Lac Mwelu,

Vaste étendue d’eau du Sud

D’où la Luvua prend ses eaux,

Traverse le vaste territoire

 Et se jette dans le fleuve Congo.

 

Paysage de contraste beauté fleurie,

S’étendant et ne faisant qu’un avec la Z...

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Also by Poetry in Translation Group:

Eye of the Beholder |

Cross Cultural Poetry

It's Easy to Believe

Music and witchery
weave their thick spell
whilst we move to the rhythm
of a more primative beat.

So play me well.
 
Merge gradually
smoothly,
legato.
Compelling
yet, so simple.
 
That moment when
senses are heightened
to the scent of spiced poppies
and the heart is pierced
by desire.
 
When flesh wants
to savour and enjoy
another such as you,
w...

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A Eulogy To Poets at WOL

 A Eulogy To Poets  at WOL

 
I wish I could write a poem like Julian Jorden.
His Rhubarb Poem cracks me up.
And when he starts quoting French 
Well my toes curl up in pleasure.
 
I wish I could write a poem like Peter Crompton.
He is so full of emotion and life
His performance can give me
The goose bumps.
 
I wish I could write a poem like Eric To...

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Poets & Performance Poetry

Snow Shoes

Why do I see
the ugliness of life?
White walls close in,
burying my heart.
Dark windows meet my gaze,
denying view of life,
and broken structure remains.
And splinters of wood
scatter across the snow.
Small candles spark of hope,
but cold winds still stir,
trying to extinguish the flame.
And I wait for sun,
hoping to break this dark,
but the night burns across my ski...

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Goodbye Central Library

The books all stood there silently
In a mournful prayer
As they were all lifted
Letter by letter
Into card board boxes.

The shelves were pulled down
And lined up in the middle
Of the great hall
Like a huge bonfire
Before the windows
Were all kicked out
Which had a feeling of
Ghosts tramped over by time.

Floors crumbled into
Large chunks of rubble
As sledgeham...

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the innocent cliffs

The innocent cliffs

 

Angry oceans careering into cliffs,

waves furiously bombarding

white rocks off shore

with intense frustration,

assaulting each and every stone.

 

The main body of land

is receiving the brunt

of this mass of waters temper,

suffering

through no fault of its own.

 

This outburst of crashing swell

seemed completely ir...

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Also by chris dommett:

whisky drinking world |

NEW EP 'NO COPYRIGHT NECESSARY' AVAILABLE FOR FREE DOWNLOAD

Hello everyone!


My brand spanking new five track EP, 'No Copyright Necessary', is available for entirely free download at http://captainoftherant.bandcamp.com. It's got some great feedback and would love to hear yours.


Many thanks.


Captain

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Going to Disnelyalnd Paris without any children

Going to disneyland Paris without any children

 

Mickey Mouse greeted my vacant and soggy palm

And even through his happy mask

I could see he was hurt in open arms

I had arrived empty handed

Roll up and be sleeved

enjoy the ninth wonder of the world

Do I need children to be hurled backward in time

After all I own my own childhood

As I heard you only enjo...

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Poppy Picking Day

 

I say this to poppy-wearers; which is it?

The papery one that sprang from Flanders mud,

To jog the memory of long rotten dead?

Or the one from Afghan fields,

The flower of   pipe-line power,

That feeds the morphine dream,

Lets you forget when you fill

Your tank with Arab blood

And surf along on its energy sud?

In flabby rhetoric you s...

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FEATURE SLOT AT TOUCH ME I'M SICK

Hi guys,

I'm featuring tomorrow at this event

Touch Me I'm Sick with Vintage Poison
Hosted by Kevin Reinhardt and Joe Campbell
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Time: 19:30 - 23:00
The Old Crown Pub
33 New Oxford Street
London, United Kingdom

Featuring Alain English and Fran Isherwood with the usual open-mic spots...

See you there!

Alain

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Also by Alain English:

New Gig | "Shakespeare Inc." review 05/03/2010 |

The Soldier (A Poem for Lance Corporal Joe Glenton)

What makes a hero to the land?

Courage and valour to the end,

But for whom,

The man-gods of government,

Who declare wars with many a pitiless, amoral hand,

Or his own justice, which he seeks to defend?

 

When the latter is used for the sake of thousands' lives,

Not for the sake of extending an empire, tyrannical and almighty,

A poor excuse,

A forced democ...

Read and leave comments (1)

Culver Cliff

Finger light

Tremble

Touching pictures of sky

August sailing clouds

Tumble billowing

Chasing curtains of rain into a cresting sea

Blackberry

Red Clover await a salted kiss

Purple Musk

Thistle dance

Anywhere dancing

Tempor...

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Also by Gus Jonsson:

An Innocent Abroad ( A Soldier’s Letter to his Chaplain) |

And Did Those Feet – Theatre review

From clog-dancing kick-off to grandstand finish, Bolton Octagon's riveting revival of writers Les Smith and Martin Thomasson's play takes us on a swerving run through a slice of working-class life in1920s Bolton.

Bolton born, bred and buttered, and Trotters (Bolton Wanderers) fans all their lives, the writers draw from what they know to create this play, winner of best new play in the Manch...

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Also by Julian Jordon:

Farewell Michael Foot |

reviewtheatre

HYMN TO A BROKEN MARRIAGE

 

Ulysses takes 10 years to cross one of the most benign bodies of water on the planet and spent 8 years of them lounging about on various Greek isles with women who can't seem to resist his manly charms.


 

My wife looked at me through sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Surprise,” I said “it's your husband back from 10 years. I've escaped faraway barbarian lands and have tales th...

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Do You Ever Wonder?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do You Ever Wonder?

 

As you drive past houses,especially late at night,

Do you ever wonder?

 

With their curtains open wide,

Lights on inside,

I often wonder

what they're up to,

why or where they bought that glass clown ornament from,

with it's bejewelled colours

deeply set

inside thick cheap glass,

 

W...

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Wonder

I'm Simple this way

I'm simple this way,

this way- leaning.

Watching the want,

this way- fading.

You're always this way

his way- leaning.

I'm holding this loss

this way- leaving.

 

When you leave

the conversation

before you've left

the company-

when I've left

your thoughts

before I've left

your sight-

When your touch

lets go

before my gras...

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Al Jabayl

Al Jabayl

 

 

 

Pan fried tomato’s swim round,

The oil glistening the deep red

Skin that covers the fleshy innards,

The call to prayer sounds the fortunes

Of those from different wombs,

And rooftop spies look on,

Emotionless and unfeeling.

 

My rifle is poised as bare I take my

Tanned torso for a cold shower,

A wash before bathing in war a...

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Tyne Cot

 

when you left
for the front
you were
living heroes
and now
you are on top
of the hill
where only
poppies
blow..........

© by Jan Theuninck

 

Tyne Cot
 
toen jullie 
naar het front
trokken
waren jullie
levende helden
en nu
liggen jullie
op de heuvel
waar alleen
papavers bloeien...
 
...

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"Tyne Cot"WW1

Where Is The War?


Where is the war to make sense of all things?
My mother's mother was fond of saying,
“I pity you boys, with no war to fight.”
I'd recite this on dark mornings whilst traipsing
Towards the bus aside the road in mist.

Where lines of cars, shunted slowly with faces
Encased in glass like queues of roaring ghosts.
Trawling with half lit eyes through the gl...

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World Out of Blame

I. The River of Death

The bullies always ruled the playground.

The thick and the fast,
the quick and the dead.
Here the Morlocks get ever shorter,
hungrier for human bones.

Lead runs through your coarse veins.
It pushes gray into a black heart
behind barbarism's transhuman new skin.

Strolling the noisy banks
of the river of death,
I contemplate the myth of pati...

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A Wake and a Wedding

Webs spun in bitter March winds

land on shoulders brushing by

fragile limbs fragmenting

their bones, brittle as white collar starch

Dust to ashes on cashmere coats

warmed by comfort in death

Outside, horses and carriage

await the parade on asphalt streets

strewn with lavender posies

red, pink and champagne roses

a shower of confetti free-falling

as i...

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Sixteen Wishes

  I wished I wasn’t so sensitive.


I wished the raised hands of my dad 
couldn’t smack tears into my eyes

I wished to vanish behind the black 
curtains of my shut eyes

I wished I didn’t mind that my white mum 
visited my school wearing African robes

I wished I didn’t believe in ghosts
so I could keep my stain in those shadows

I wished my home wasn’t broken
my...

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Wishessixteenyoungsterlist poemcoupletsRaymond Antrobus

The Pit

Some fragments:

 

"The Pit is such a place, where peerless deeds

Are writ with potent wyrd, and heroes wild with passion

Stake all on their steel-resolve, certain of God's grace."

 

"You must have drained a dog ere daring that, you cur!"

Said Loco-Man - the leader, called the Lord of Pain.

"Now heed, who has not heard the hoary truth:

We fought a fearsome for...

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ThugsAnglo SaxonChaviad

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