Poetry Blogs (Jun 2010)

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The Sea At Night Does Not Rest

Too tired to rest
I only care
Are you out there somewhere
A glass of cheap wine
On the arm of some expensive chair

And do you...
Could you think of me sometime
Maybe... while I'm still alive

The gravity of your movements
Swells the tides of my emotions
And you'll probably never know
You draw me to ecstasy, then to lowest ebb
And you'll probably never know

You amaze me ...

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Also by Tom Alexander:

Cinema Child & When I Leave The Cinema | Letters To Old Lovers | Held |


Do you still prefer to walk alone?

walk,where nobody walks,

in spirals,curves.

blind to devilled shadows

fooled by a shield of ignorance.


I  recall the journey we once planned,

through endless time.

when we both unmasked our desires.

another truth has masked your face

bereft of smile,with sunless eyes,downturned.


Speaking from your meaningless...

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curled as a shell

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Curled as a shell curls

Pale opalescent nacre skin

Pearlised in a moonbeam.


Her neck curves gently

In seahorse shape.

And round her face,


Sea anemones coil.


A foetal-angel

With body turning

As the wave revolves.



Shooshing waves will never wake her

Sharks sharp teeth will never take her.

Dreaming deep, whe...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

new twenty pound note haiku | falling in love by surprise | groove round the kitchen - it's SUNDAY!! xx | pussycatdreaming | slumber | love to the blood and bone | maelstrom | a pinch of salt | lifemodel | for ta-ta | lost pebble | alfresco | morse | unfathomable | pink | OFFSIDE | gone |


The gesture takes shape in the shavings of the sky,

swooning pregnant with a mouth of dreams, and the rapid eye



She waits on the day with her fingers,

trimming the water, visiting his shoulder

in the breeze – hair, lips, and collarbone, blushed,


and, pilgrim like, her memory invents a body,

whispering the leap of the burnt lake, the sun ice-skat...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

The Famished Asylum | The Art of Judas | Prom Night | The Sculptor |

The Tour

The once lardy lad from the Isle of Man

aggressive in the press because he can -

the evidence suggests pocket a win

in as many sprint finishes as nine.

The coveted pink jersey becomes him;

no better assertion of macho man

then to wear that prized colour with aplomb.


From the parliamentary democracy

Of Luxembourg, Andy Schrek I forsee

As contender for fi...

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Also by Alison Smiles:

Climber boy | How? | Ordinary |

The Long Crawl.

Sluglike and heavy, weary of percentages

Rolling slowly on rough carpets of winter green

Rainfall aftermath damp and blanket atmosphere

Moving by the metre just after sun shower

'Little insect journey'


The concept of scale is a cage in itself

'Little insect Auschwitz'

Chained to the radiator calling for god


Crawling in a ...

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Narcissus stared at the art work

before selecting a martial sleeve.

A fusion of Japanese gangster

and Polynesian tribal.


Hand function was straightforward.

Ranging from tea ceremony

to stone crusher,

crocodile wrestler

was the choice.


She thought her bank authorisation

into the machine

and dropped her old arm

in the recycling tray.


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deathGreek Mythtattoovending machine

Your Eyes


I'd like to take a look at me
Through your eyes.
I want to see what you see
When you focus on me.
Do you see a friend?  A lover?
A confidante?  A brother?
Or do you just see me,
Just another random other?
I'd like to see what you see
Maybe then I’d understand
Why you just don't notice.
Why don't you notice me?
I'd like to t...

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Also by Steven Kenny:

In the Blood | Stunted | Gentleman Caller | The Nomad | The Greatest Show on Earth | Blank Regret | Creampie Jesus | Memorial | Philosophy Through Confectionary | Lamentation from a Field of Broken Dreams |

Love doesn't know any taboo

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Love doesn’t know any taboo,

but sometimes it doesn’t know what to do.

Sometimes it cries, sometimes it lies,

sometimes it looks like  a sly,

sometimes it shouts “Hurray”

and it ruins everything on it’s way.

Love can be crazy, love can be lazy,

it can be like an angel

and it can shine like a purl.

It can turn everything upside down,

it can change ev...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

To live on the real life rails | I love you | Just close your eyes... | Spring meets summer | I am one of those..... | Two souls | A letter from the 20th century | If I am strong | I like to live my own life | Falls and flights | The power of love | A PARABLE ABOUT A REAL WOMAN | It could be so nice | How much we would like to say... | To the Creator | Love me as I am | Humour | What is love? |



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A weird title for deadly drugs

Inhaled, injected, or smoked

Widely abused, damaging the brain

Heroin, marijuana, and cocaine,

Addiction affect user's ability to sense pleasure

And may contribute to depression

They think, dream about it, constantly

Become irritable and confused, increasingly,

They are sold at head shops, nightclubs, and rave

Threatening teenag...

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England Exit Haiku

"Great Expectations"

Then "Pride Comes Before a Fall"

"Les Miserables!"

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Also by John Coopey:

Research |

the lights are on

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I heard that finding yourself

is something best started next week

so that’s what I did

having gathered

a few essentials:


got a few tattoos

got a few piercings


dyed my hair – all beads & corn-rows


a little navel-gazing

a little couch-surfing

a little interaction with the natives

but still, I was nowhere to be found.


that’s d...

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Also by Banksy:

there's the rub | sectioned | the happening people | pitch perfect | only a cat | a safe pair of hands | your kind | at seventeen | getting a little rusty | the greasy spoon | Bellapais | lap of honour | Maggie's children | nul points | the dusty road | pearls | the northern lights | J | Plan B | DNA |

Sunny treacle

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The world that’s full of light

Of  laziness

Of languor

And treacle of the sun

Through the funnels of green leaves


Your hunger, at arm’s length

Like leopard in jungle

Pretending just for now

To be a lazy cat


To be enjoying it

one needs  a bluesman’s soul

Would I construct my paradise – like that?

Forever and forever – for today?


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Also by Olga Gerke:

Wild swans | Between the lines | Whatever happened to Baby Jane? | Finding my way | child | Play | Negative checklist |

How To Fix A Broken Man

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Today is thoroughly sad-sick.

She is in the garden picking peas,

I’m in our wardrobe, masturbating, slow.


Sandalwood sneaks around the house,

Frank revolves from another room

as we prepare for tonight’s repair.


I am a lover in her reality

but a liar in her dreams,

a big pumping heart on legs

that beats to the sound of love’s drum.



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Are you Listening ?

Look at the world,

lost tribes seek freedom,

lost in the desert,seeking shelter when the heats on,

the streets on fire,like,

no mans safe,

cant even put your faith in a familiar face,

too many issues, running out of tissue,

at the funerals,

go to clubs, man are shanked at the urinals,

and i aint even about to make out its beautifull,

when what im seeing's...

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I Was the Reluctant Lover

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I was the reluctant lover
She was a Goddess divine
I was not as brave as a man should be
And so her heart was never mine

Oh, am I the fool of legend
Am I the only one
Who loved and lost as I never tossed
My hat in the ring till the girl was gone?

And as I look at the picture
Her face and smile come to mi...

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Also by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh:

For the Corncrakes Sake and Mankinds | Just Because They Once Were Victims |

adoreamiciamoreinfatuationlovepassionunrequited lovewoman

Free downloadable Spoken Word (poetry-reading) EP.

 Hope you enjoy it!


Ray. x

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EPLondonpoemRaymond AntrobusreadingSpoken WordSpoken Word poetry

Crixus' story

A commodity caged, he fell to his knees
Dominus ruled and he wanted to please.

Bought for no more than a handful of coin
sent to the dungeons, the others to join.
A brotherhood forged from fear and regret,
his future unknown, his dreams were beset.
Trained by the whip of a battle scarred cur,
his might was impressive, his cost more than fair.
To the top of the arena he killed an...

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Also by Kath Hewitt:

My affliction. | Finality | Footie haiku attempt | From organism to organasm | Reaverman | my attempt at jackie hagans challenge thingy | Look out, there are murderers about. |


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Scheming with demons,

Searching for the spirit,

Darkness is the body,

The soul is infinite.

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Also by Joseph Kennedy:

Underworld | To my sweetest | Verisimilitude |

life after deathsoul

The Poet as Piñata

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I knew it was a bad idea. I was guilted into it because it was for “Charity”. Just how bad an idea it was only became apparent when I set foot on stage. For every second of my two minutes or so, a drunken, howling, baying mob heckled and jeered my every word.

 The “it” was a local version of Britain’s Got Talent (I know!); staged in a pub/night club at 10pm on a Sunday (I know!!) on the nig...

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Tiptoe Through The Tulips

Tulip fields as far as the eye can see

and beyond - Generations

splicing.. dicing...bonding

Exporting a seasons creation

for pleasure and for peace

Securing a life for future families


and as the crow flies

four hundred miles over land and sea


there is a place

where victims go willingly

to play.. befriend.. communicate

with mammals of a di...

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Dolphins Of The Cove


In the cove the dolphins swim, 
blowing bubbles, free of sin,
all their play is full of joy
no rough stuff do they need to employ

Perhaps that's why they give us such delight,
leaping from the water as if taking flight,
summersaults made in unison quite unsurpassed,
all our own gymnasts are quite outclassed.

And yet these gentl...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

New Rules Of Sobriety | Last Generation | Lora's Woe | War Losses |


Volunteers, Workshoppers & Open Mic-ers wanted for LitaBury

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In conjunction with Streetwise 2000: Bury’s Fun And Free Literacy And Learning Festival For Everyone!

Monday 23rd August 2010
11am – 5pm
Bury Parish Church House (Behind The Church)

Come along and enjoy……

• Writing Workshops with Rachel Bond, Darren Thomas and Elaine Speakman
• Kids’ Activities with Gemma Lees
• Poetry Open Mic With Write Out Loud (Compered by Paul Blackburn)
• ...

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two menorahs loosen

memory's chains

and restore the past

at last,


here in my head

dark star's velvet scream

is heard but

never seen

leave  the poor

as they were before

footsteps in the snow


 Paris 42

and the Gestapo

perform another round-up,

and a seemingly innocent Jew,

Paul Leon,  just visiting,

is tossed into a Mercedes



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the speed of life

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I am just a body
I am just a mind
I’m a collection of skin and bones
And beneath the sky I find
The heat is on both sides
The sun on my front
The sands heat on my hind
Now I know why animals bask
The speed of life these days
Has took as all to task
We have forgotten how to relax
We have grown fins and attacked
I hear grass whisper
Waves collapse
Such the simple and t...

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She Loved Sundays

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Taking both of my hands in hers she leaned forward

kissing me softly upon my cheek.


'I've had a really lovely day today

I love Sundays


How about you’?


I smiled a broad beaming agreement

Lying should never be easy

I'd never found it difficult, but then I was well practised.


I had always agreed.



I had always agreed.


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I grew up in a country of

                        fish & chips

                    & 9 to 5.

With jet back hair and dark skin

I stood out sorely at school,

                                at work,

                                in the street.


I longed to visit that place, elsewhere,

Which my parents always spoke of.

The place where I would fit in.


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A small nose, full glossed lips,

Eyes of cornflower blue.

Petite figure, slender hips,

A gaze that looks right through.


Expression bored,

My items are wrapped,

My smile ignored,

Confidence sapped.

“Thirty-one pounds then.”

The girl can speak!

She yawns again,

Concentration weak.

I see before me

A pretty young thing.

What does she see


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Also by Lynn Dye:

They Ride Together | Just Like An Angel | The Angel and the Beachcomber | ARILLAS! | She Rides Again |

It's been a while,

...and I've been thinking, and writing, and scribbling words down, bits here and bits there. Then on top of that I've been revising for exams, and have just been busy with life in general. Too much seems to be happening at the same time.

Just thought I'd come on here and check in, I am alive... and I haven't forgotten about this or the poem I still need to re-work in my previous blog.  xo


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Things We don't write about

Things we don't write about.


We won’t write poems about wanting to Kill David Cameron

(although Gordon Brown did bore me senseless)

Nor do we write poems about the recent cuts to benefits

And the whole way the country is still mismanaged.


We won’t write poems about rising crime

And why unemployment is really rising again

Without looking at ourselves and ...

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Ice Cold In Shallow Waters

                                    Ice Cold in Shallow Waters




            We live in a discordant world

Where metaphors of peace,

Battle daily with analogies of war!

In every man and woman tempests rage,

While considering daily their norms,

            (norms that make all;

            Actors and players on stages

            Of rhetoric,


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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Poem to the Unknown Angels | Darnhill Estate | Where is the Man Upstairs? | Angel Fire | My Wife and Child | Theatre of Space | Disjointed | Harmony | Value | Kruger National Park |


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lazy drifting

shape shifting

rain gifting

spirits lifting



gulls wheeling

world ceiling

vast feeling

mind reeling



planets sailing

comets trailing

stars failing

chaos prevailing?


Beyond Space

order reigning

reality maintaining

never waning

always remaining


love training


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Also by Dave Bradley:

Ten into Five | In praise of Rights of Way officers | Pandora (late again) |

This Sunday...(Poetry Performance)

Poetry N Motion
Opal Bar
Right next to Embankment Station on the Northern and District Lines.

Sante with her new Album release.
Goodtimes Trio with there old skool review
Megan Gibson with her new skool grooves
Roger with his soulful Italian style
Ayo - Poet
Alain English - Poet

As well as various other performers (singers and poets)

Please join the £5 ...

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Also by Alain English:

New Featured Gigs | The Fantasticks - Show Review | New Gig | FEATURED GIG THIS SATURDAY 5TH!!! |

Water Into Wine

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We found you

plastered to a concrete drive,

acute angled, feet drawn,

rapid breathing

beneath a hot baked sun…


You’d landed somewhere hostile,

a dad, ruffled by things that flap,

children unversed in basic care.

And so we scooped you up,

took you to our hearts…


No-one sent a rescue helicopter.

The vet, disinterested in your plight


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Also by Isobel:

Write Out Loud Outstanding Poem for May | WOLOP NONINATIONS - MAY | 10 into 5 | Pandora's Box - Review |

The Blood Of A Scurvy Scum

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Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum!

I smell the blood of a scurvy scum

Be he dead or be he alive

We be the pirates of St. Ives

As buccaneers it is our pleasure

To plunder, pillage, and pinch yer treasure

But pickings at sea are slim, we've learned

So once again we has returned

Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum!

I smell the blood of a scurvy scum

Be he dead or be he alive

The Backhair Pir...

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Pirates piracy


In fields

On kitchen floors

Behind closed doors

I'll remember those kisses

In fields

On kitchen floors

Behind closed doors

You're holding my hand

Singing all your usuals

In fields

On kitchen floors

Behind closed doors

I'll keep the feeling

You set in my stomach

Close to my heart

In fields

On kitchen floors

Behind closed doors.

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A moth squeaking like a dog's arse.

A warm smile in the afternoon.

And afraid of the sound of footsteps.

And him with a pigeon on his head.

And neither does the dog.

And spends most days swatting flies.

And there's so much I'll never sing.

Before taking a deep breath.

Being herself was never an option.

Covering themselves with night.

Deep inside his...

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Also by Rodney Wood:



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Myself and Alison McCabe are organising this amazing night of fab women writers including the wonderful Clare Shaw, Meriel Malone, Jackie Hagan, Steph Pike... and ourselves! There will also be an open mic slot, so women bring your writing!

It's on Fri 16 July, check out the gig guide if this image is too small to read the details. Cheers.

Please note, we had to change the venue, it's no...

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Sapphic Stanza

Hear the faint chimes

Sapphic stanza: 4 lines - consisting of 3 lines of 11 syllables each  (hendecasyllabics)  each measured in the same  strictly prescribed feet - /,///,,/,/,  and the final prescribed line using 5 syllables - /,,//


Hear the faint chimes, music of nodding bluebells,

Tinkling-glass tones trembling on restless breezes,

Soundless wild blue no...

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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Spenserian Stanza |

Pointless Self Indulgence

If I were a self indulgent poet

And all I talked about was me

It would be more of an epigram  

As im sure you'll see

For all there is to talk about

Is how hard I hit those drums

And how fast I climbed that tree.

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do i want a tattoo?

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i must do

i won one

Frankie owes me one

bar code back of the neck?

no thanks

stars in a line above the ankle bone?

no ta

bird on the breast?

no no

do i want a tattoo?

i must do

i went up to collect my prize

rang up several guys

until they confirmed

i could come at any time

arrows saying this way up?

i don't think so

love and ha...

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Instant publication

I was on chauffeur duty for my daughter at a JLS concert last night. Whilst waiting outside, the following cruel yet accurate haiku came to me:

Flightless moths wobble

their way, to the bright white light

of the burger van.


I sent this to a friend on Facebook and within about 20 minutes it had been scooped up on to the "Haiku In English" website, without so much as a word ...

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(The ‘Liar flyer’ is now accepted in politics.)


The concept of integrity hangs slack

now Westminster’s dishonour is complete;

our politicians creed: “I’m alright Jack”

as in that feudal Chamber they compete.

Election time comes round - the party-mind

hones strategies to make a devil blush

with weasel-worded messages designed

to give that extra s...

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Fathers Day

 The type of man that makes my blood boil

with hair as shiny as foil

eyes that stare right through any human being

and as tall as the celling


he overpowers me with his masculinity

and demands "what is this i see in front of me"

sorry sir it was an accident

i didn't know it was your pride i would dent


he fills every pause in my speech with a yeah


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Also by Josh Coates:

The Colour Red | Accidental Afternoon of Poetry | Oddest Couple Paired | The Homely Feel | Dearest Sister |

Relativity (m.c.escher)

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Our eyeless stares, the endless stairs constrain;

Figures of proportional intention,

We blandly trudge from plane to transformed plane.


Warping up and wefting down in vain,

Aching for a canvas of convention,

Our eyeless stares, the endless stairs constrain.


Incidental in some artist’s brain;

Ageing embryos in mock pretension,

We blandly trudge from pl...

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Also by Dave Carr:

World Cup Haiku | World Cup Haiku | The Future is Crimson |



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I sleep beneath layer

upon layer

of blankets,

stand for hours under

running water,

trying to feel the heat

but still,

I am cold.

Cold and torn,

from the threads

of your memory.

Scents drift by

on the wind,

and I try to grasp the dust.

Echoes of sounds,

music and voices,

haunt me,

taunt me, but

all is darkness,


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Also by Deborah Jordan Bailey:

Carpathian | The Dunes |

On Engagement, Results and Insomnia

Let’s get married and forget to eat

Let’s make love on the back seat

Pop the cork, toast the night

See our names up in lights

Dance on hot coals, touch the sky

Count our blessings

Let them die

Come play with fire and we can burn

Bridges, pages, days in turn

There’s not long now till the sun sets

Sit and gaze eyes to the west

And as it drops let your t...

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Also by Claire Alexandra:

Summertime Carousel |

My M E Brick

You think that M E is all in the mind

you think I am a malingerer

don't you know you are being unkind

and your cruel words they linger


I never wanted to live this way

I never asked to get sick

so if you've got nothing kind to say

then you must be as thick as a brick


M E is a physical illness

I'm exhausted confined to a bed

so why should I put ...

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This House

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This house is more than tiled floors,

More than stainless steel units,

More than bathtub and basin,

More than curtain rails and carpets.


This house is more than back yard,

More than unmown lawn and railings.

This house has seen our victories

And it also knows our failings.


This house is more than four walls,

It’s eight hands and it’s eight feet,


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Making peace with the slug army


At first, they were the enemy; their

silvery, nacreous trails a clue to midnight

meanderings across a laminate land.


Night after night – my kitchen blight,

slimy swarms undulating towards

pilchard pastures abandoned by the cat,


while the squish of wet slug between

toes - when insomnia showed – jarred

at my saddened, sleep-lost soul.



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