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I Thought Of You

I thought of you again today,

When the sun came out to play.

I knew that it would be that way,

I’d think of you most every day….

We met with a smile
And lingering glances,
Yet to consider
Taking our chances.
A touch of your hand,
A wink and a sign,
Eyes that smiled
And danced with mine.

A whispered word, 
A soft sigh,
Kindred spirits,
You and I.

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Also by Lynn Dye:

Angel on Horseback |

Love of the stars


On the suburb of the Universe

the Beta star has lighted up

I am here to make a verse

For those who are grown up.


His Majesty the Alpha star has seen her

and has fallen in love at first sight.

His nights has become so bright,

and somewhere even white.

At once he has sent her a ray of love

wishing to be her beloved.

Her Excellency the Beta star


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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Torments of love | I am as I am | Woman's mood | Lilac blossoms in May | To my favourite student Sonya | Silence | Wreck of hopes | I am on diet | Friendship | Our life | Ballad about the soldier | The Victory Day | My tender kiss | My wishes | What is the color of love? |


Second Glance

Chances missed and chances lost.

nothing ventured, nothing gained.

stolen glances weigh up the cost

of moments left unclaimed;

of touches left unexplored.

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Also by Steven Kenny:

Tempest | I Wrote A Poem... | Flat Lines | Pandora's Box | The girl and the lake | Titanium Butterfly | Self Harm |

Hippocampus and Friend


Hippocampus and Friend

Side saddled on the flame horned sea horse
Fingering those delicate antlers as with remorse
A fairy mermaid lingered most lovingly
Thinking she should never leave him lonely

Hippocampus coronatus we know him by
A name so regal that we may wonder why
His status is not celebrated so much more
From Japanese coasts to every Pacific shore


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Also by Dave Dunn:

Pop Zoo | Dead End | The Angry Man | Stillness | Let's | The Seas Of Angst & Hope | Revolutionary Recipe Books | Bell | There Was |


Just a note

Hindsight follows blind-sight,
dark-light falls to bright white,
now the time's right to make the wrongs right
and for you and me to re-quite
our love.

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Also by Kath Hewitt:

Contrary mary | (untitled) | Escapism | (untitled) | Pandoras box ( sort of ) | Riding slipstreams | Onyx eyes from watchtowers spy. | Unplugged | Silver spring | Free time | Avon calling. | Downpour | no title |


Yes he is a cat

Changeable, fickle

Stroked only when he wishes

When his back arches to your touch

Sees you when he likes, or

Stares impassively into the middle distance

Eats when it’s just what he wants

But can choose to starve.

Snubs you when he wishes


And fucks indiscriminately

 He has no owners

She writes the cat in love with a man

I coul...

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Also by Shoeless Carole:


Pandora's Legacy

Mind over matter

is the key

and so

with will of iron



the ills that she set free.

The world implodes

to fill an empty cask

tossed like flotsam

to a hostile sea

heavy lidded

sealed with sorrow

weighted with

unspoken words -

the water swallows…


Trembling from exertion

relief pervades

This day will u...

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Also by Isobel:

Invisible |

Pandora's Box



ease your toes into the puddled sand

and squeeze the softness

between those baby bones!


you’re squeezing rock

you’re pressing eons

vast periods of time

trilobites and iguanodon!

and maybe somewhere

there are pieces

knocked out of the moon. . . .


a comets trail

a shooting star

a meteorite

all the way from Mars. . . .



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Also by Ann Foxglove:

the poetess | family | women of the world | pandora's jar | heavy with green | withdrawal | a stan laurel kind of day | the biggest splash |

Pandora's Box (Blind At The Root)

He stands with his back to the world,

teetering on the edge of a cliff,

trapped in the twilight hours of day and night.


His laughter is nervous,

sends waves of fear up his spine.

He doesn't speak a word.

Everything we need to know is buried in the dark pitch of his eyes,

where the shadow of the moon hides.


The waves, more than two hundred feet b...

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Our Home Cannot Be Here

I lit a fire on the beach
Just as you were feeling beaten by the wind
We can't hear anything in this weather
But the waves and the crackling wood
You don't speak anyway
We have nothing we care to say

Our human silences amid nature's screams
Fill me with a loss so unforgettable
Our human silences amid nature's screams
Fill me with a void so inescapable

The sky goes dark and the sea sl...

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Also by Tom:

This Infinity | Distance | British Summer Time |

beachbreak-upbreaking upnatureseparatingweatherwind

Pandora's Box

I'll tell of a greek tragic heroine;

She was known as Pandora by name;

A quiet lass who didn't go out much,

A bit like the Oh lympic flame.


Zeus had commissioned Pandora,

The first lady made from the earth.

He was really quite pleased with the outcome;

Far less messy, he thought, than a birth.


Some say that Zeus craved a companion;

Some say it was...

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Also by Dave Carr:

I Wrote a Line (with apologies to Johnny Cash) | Submerged |

humourPandora's Box

Q&A With New York Based Poet/ Spoken Word artist- Jon Sands

This is a series of Q&A with some poets I've met across the world.

Enjoy! :-)

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Raymond Antrobuspoetpoetryspoken wordJon SandsPaula Varjackthe art and craft

Falling hero

Bad feeling in the peleton,

bad mouthing in the press

Fingers pointing, tongues are stabbing;

it’s a bit of a mess.

We hear hints which verge on slander,

Vicious words chosen to suggest

without the appearance of honest candour,

wrong-doing two abreast.


Careers are dangling in the gutter,

back pedalling excuses uttered,

Did the come back cancer hero


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Also by Alison Smiles:

Pandora's Box | The beer goggles have no mercy | Lament to a trusty friend |

Visiting Neil


Visiting Neil


Hello old friend. I’m sorry that it’s been a while.

I can’t pretend that this cold place is easy on the mind.

But nonetheless you’re always there, somewhere,

underneath and in the darkness; thinking through philosophies,

searching out those sparks of why and wherefore

to eternity.


Who me? I’ve done OK, The usual, you know - job, house,...

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Also by Anthony Emmerson:

. . . of varts and tickers | A Yukon Tale . . . | social |

white cat hunting


In the car-park border,

By bright, mid-day light,

With pea-green eyes’ cool sight,

A white cat is hunting, his paw-step

Touchy among the lizard-skinned

cacti sprouts whose leaves burst

Through the limestone chippings

Sprinkled on the bark mulch strip.

It’s there that some dark little  prey

Is making now its getaway.

White cat pauses before the poun...

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human being

He’s a dud fuddy

A fud fuddy dud

a dud duddy fud

a fuddy fuddy duddy


he is squaaaaaaaaaaare.


Shops at Netto, one man ghetto,

He is tragic, got no magic.

He's crutonic, so moronic,

socks with sandals, got no angles,

he's a nerd, he is nunty,

What a dag, he's so pikie

He's uncool, a proper goober,

He's a tangy, smelly zooker.



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Also by Dave Bradley:

Jigsaw | Pandora haiku | Image is Substance | To a friend | Slow down |

The Hour of the Critic


I sit here convoluted; a heart with thoughts,

laddered, essential for a cause,

an impulse protector, and a radio knob

for outside contortions.


Intentions, the aches as habitual as breathing,

are safe as a puckering bud but, tasting

the back of my lips I find

a syndicate of vines,

thorning the future for fuck ups.


I fall over a root, samplin...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

The Rib | Walk alone | Pandora's Box | THE VINDICTIVE VOWEL (or the deflated self). |

Bad Faith

Most often I spot them way off in the distance,

something in the gait and the weight of their symptoms;

the ill-defined tremor of repeat prescriptions

sets alarm bells ringing and I turn on a sixpence

or cross roads inventing a previous engagement,

catch a flower arrangement, bend to tie laces,

bury my head in shop windows replete

with cheap trinkets. I tread light o...

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The preacher on the Radio

Says he’s changed his mind about Dave and Joe

But that chap who’s running the B&B

Still won’t let a room to a him and a he.

While the Archbishop ponders his riven flock

And says we all get a much whiter smock

When we come to the end of this earthly race

Whether or not we are arse about face.

But the question is: Wh...

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Autistic Superstars - PROGRAMME REVIEW

Autistic Superstars Programme Review
In April, I visited Riverside Studios in Hammersmith to watch the recording of the final stages of a show callled "Autistic Superstars" with a musical concert hosted by actor and radio DJ Reggie Yates.  I wrote up the experience in an earlier note. This blog is a review of the finished programme.
Episode 1
This a...

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Also by Alain English:

New Video | New Gig - It's Jawdance!!!!! | Young, Autistic and Stagestruck | Gigs this Week | New Gig |

Golden Silence?

They say silence is golden

I say it is barbed wire

It is a dagger in my heart

That pierces deeper than skin

It kills me slowly, stabbing the goddess within

It razors my heart in two

And leaves me longing for word of you.

They say no news is good

I say

It stuns me to submission

Unable to walk or talk.

I freely make admission.

They say absence mak...

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When I have left you

I hope you will see

That I watch you in gulls’ eyes as they circle the sea.


When I have left you

I hope you will know

That it wasn’t my choice, to leave you, to go.


But now that it’s happened

I hope you’ll continue

To live with the zest

Of the life you have in you,


I hope you will breathe deep

As you tackle each ...

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As Sure as Eggs are Eggs.

As sure as eggs are eggs

Bottles of red wine

That have been consumed

Too many times

To Van Morrison albums.


As sure as eggs are eggs

Sculptures out of milk bottles

Sculptures out of orange juice cartons

That can fly.


As sure as eggs are eggs

Drawn on

Your bright blue eyes

Assure me.

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woKeN SpuRReD

Like a NIKe swoosH Just doiNg iT becaue BECAUSe be-at-cause of the wonderfiLLed tingZ eye doe'z

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Also by Chris Jam:

CReATionZ eYe'Z | WheRe WiLL WenT | Mi CaSA | DeViLLiveD | GorY JaxonorY aLlerGorieZ | QeeNz DrIvE |

chris jam spoken word expression art poetry manche

Exist (Based on last night's dream)

City lights were the faint hum

of the ghost riding the rails,

struggling to exist,

but I was going the wrong way.

Trains screamed overhead,

and strangers blurred

before tired eyes.

Nobody was taking me home.

I couldn't go back,

and if I tried,

the price would be heavy.

So, here I was

in strange territory,

fading t...

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a nice moving poem, my most touching in over a decade

a nice moving poem on some1 who made me happy:)

for a very special lady who brought some nice times and made me smile and happy. i remember and dedicate this poem to you, once my gothic gal. be well my friend:)


While going to see a heavy metal band Evil Beneath, he met a soulmate on the bus, he almost never went coz he had so little cash...

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please, please vote for me....this is an awesome opportunity.....

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Also by Gemma Lees:

She's So Sick |

Pandora's Box

               Pandora’s Box






         nonsense words -  

         ideas already





         spineless words that fret the tapestry of Truth’s




         all woven into what?


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Morning on the Mall | Bedroom Games |

Pandora's Box

Pandora`s Legacy

Created by the Gods

Pandora left her mark

On the world, by  un-leasing
The terrors that befall
All of mankind.
Moulded from clay
Taught how to behave
In deceitful ways.
Then  sent to live on earth
With a box she was 
Forbidden to open.
She angered Zeus, 
When her curiosity aroused
She lifted the lid 
On his box of gifts,

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Also by Valerie Cook:

Brothers & Sisters |

Greek MythPandora`s Box

Pandora's lost Box

Pandora’s lost box


To listen to their laughter

was almost too much

like listening to a row of dominos

crashing down in totally

the wrong order.


To listen to their laughter

was almost too much

like listening to the waves

from the nearby coastline

choking itself to death.


Two beautiful young women

swinging cigarettes and beer


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Pandora's Box


Stop the search.

Silence the satellites.

The little green men

Your fear determined

Wander not in distance.


We are the aliens

From planetry parables,

Violent harvestors

Of the solar garden

Delicate skeletons

Of the star field.

The question begins

And ends here.  


We are the aliens.

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Also by Kealan Coady:

Dyslexic Caption Readers anonymous. | First attempt at a palindrome | Bland Gandhi | Third Person Omniscient | The Many Aspects Of Panic | Shade-Walking. |

Pandora`s Box

My hands are clammy

Cold my heart

My mouth is dry

My every part

Is trembling, shaking,

Drenched with fear

I would be anywhere

But here.


I close my eyes

And fathoms deep

I glide through corals,

Mermaids weep


On mountain top

Where eagles fly

I see death`s face

In golden eye.


In ferny forest

Filtered light


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Also by Cate:

Tosspot! | Not John`s Cargo | The Night Worker |

Breakfast in early Spring

I have seen what you are

I have seen what you really are

A ripple in the waves of the sea

Rolling in fury,

Rolling in anger

Then crumbling and spreading

At the feet of you and me.


The sea, at the coffee table

Said to the land

'Is this where we are to meet?

Where two great colossuses

Shake hands with one another

At this promenade of seagulls ...

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Pandora's Box

Within the box

Came the light

 Spiralling into the smothering depths

 Through the sinning lullaby of siren song



An underworld

a stone cold lake

Wherein stood a castle


Wherein behind a door of yew

A library for the gods


Books and discoloured prints

 Laid scattered

All about the floor


 Small dusty web strand...

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Glitter in an Afro

I would still fancy you if you were only 3 ft tall

Even if your head was the size of a tennis ball

If you were paralysed from the hairline down

I’d still give you a call.  

Your charisma melts away my guard

My priority is not just to make you hard

I want to embrace balls lovingly

Like Frankie Lampard.

If you were Priminister you’d still stop to check road kill


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If Ds died

My son has been labouring for some time (and completed his thesis) with a laptop with a malfunctioning keyboard - the D key doesn't work. We've come up with these.


ANGER - keep out!

Citizens a vice bureau

A gangster on the street corner selling rugs

Nanotechnology? No goo will come of it.

A gangster on t'street corner sellin' 'ope


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It’s gone on for a while

The Punch and Judy politics

Of a long term relationship


Clearly I’m right

But still we debate the issues

Ever more public

And still poles apart

Opinion divided

Both want a fresh start

But down to the line

We settle the terms

And in coalition

Amity returns


But soon the cracks show…

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Love floating high over all











I like playing with typography

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Also by Josh Coates:

Why God Why? | Devil's Bidding | Devotion is the Motion | Glances in the Common Room | We are all the same...LOL | Thursday |


Sometimes, even now, 
I look at pictures of you. 

See what you’re doing, 
smile when you’re mentioned; 

I laugh at your jokes, in my head, 
even when I remember tears, too. 

All of this is bad, I know. 

To recall, 
just when love became memory.

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Also by Max Wallis:

Denouement | Germinate | When the Wind Sighs - Video Recital | By the Colour of Death |

Captain of the Rant vs. Hair Explosion's 'No Copyright Necessary' EP: available for free download!

Hey hey

Just a reminder that Captain of the Rant vs. Hair Explosion's 5 track 'No Copyright Necessary' EP is available for completely free download - a mixture of fast-paced punk poetry and digital beats. Combining rage, rhythm and wit into a little package.

The EP's garnered considerably praise, and we're extremely proud of the results.

Have yourself a listen. The download link ...

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M I D Walrus?






R U N NME 2?







4 D A O K









N U R 3 N 1




0 0 0  (zero - zero - zero)

O O O  (oh - oh -oh)




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What a mess!

We stare at the shitter:

It's pong-hole agape.

This pleasure-dome

of abandonment, 

sings money,


sings repair,


But we have to dodge

the dog shit


Ignore the prostitutes,

as we wend a path

through hurtful

remarks: and stupid



So- poetic prostitutes

 while they laugh 


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Also by Tommy Carroll:

Cassandra's Complaint | Love's cooling light |

Muriel and Me

I wrote this following a writing workshop in Stockport. It was prompted when we were asked at break time if we would like a cup of tea.




Muriel and Me


A cuppa tea?

- For Muriel and me?

- Make it G&T…

And if it’s no trouble,

Please make it a double….




These writing classes are superb:

We learn about the written word –


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Also by Dorinda MacDowell:

Hope |






Write out loud,

Write out as loud as you can,

Write what?


We all have something to say,

We all have unique expression to this human experience,

And while the lungs fill and the tongue wags,

Exhalation of air is another solitude lost.


Why when lonely within six billion people

Do we never find any soul that could hasten


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Fear Nowt

Love  Hope


I’ve cleaned out my intestines and dried them with a towel

But despite all these fine efforts I’ve an unsanitary bowel

I take all the precautions, I’ve smoothed out all the gaps

But I know that in the morning my rectum will prolapse


I’ve tried all kinds of treatments and used a range of lotions

Still the rumblings never cease, nor do the perpetual ...

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Also by Jon Ridgeway:

Love Hope |

Super Size Super Skinny

Super Size Super Skinny

Oh, Doctor Christian

So handsome in that half-man half-horse kind of way

I love your style

Patronisingly handing down little nutritious nuggest of wisdom

To the morbidly obese and the dangerously thin

-This is what you eat in a week

Does it shock you?-

A tube representing your intestines

Stuffed to the brim with gak

Saturated fat


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The Hung Parliament. May2010

The Hung Parliament.  May2010

May’s long days light the leaves,

Unfurling from the woodland trees,

At roadside, garden, park and wood,

The lime, horse-chestnut, last the ash.


The buds relax and sepals fall,

 Discarded cradles drift on paths.

 The midges rise to meet the sap,

 High lies the nests, the drey, the starch.


Below slim saplings bend and ...

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Hatred in the Heart of Olde England

They bought the land, we understand
With hard cash fair and square
But as they are not English folk
They cannot build their own park there
On land that they themselves own
As a blockade blocks the load
Of supplies for drainage and ancillary works
So they don't camp on the road
For their town is picturesque
In the heart of Old England
The truth's if your not white, E...

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Meridengypsy campgypsyromanyirish travellerhalting siteUK election

Would society find me, if I was not there

The sun, prizes my curtains apart again, mauling my eyelids,

as I lie here, in my self-contained flat,

a high-rise, male teenager in a canopy of concrete and steel.

Green envious eyes peer down,

at the urban jungle below.

I am hooded, against the cold,

a shadow of an existence,

as I meander, the grey washed streets of conformity.

My daily life bores me shitless,


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