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In Darker Days We Gather


Sombre words and platitudes,
I guess we've heard them all.
In the darker days we gather,
to say our byes and to recall,
the best times we remember,
with those that have now passed, 
with those with whom we laughed.
Another day, another dollar,
another day, yet more dolour.
Merciless time takes it's toll ever more,
though we strive to make the best we ca...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

A Certain Lady | Banjo On The Wall | Tripod Tilly | Those Days... | Poetic Imagery | Mess Time | Doctor Who Could Save Us |



this circling of her

new-born eyes

hidden narratives

of desire

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little cardboard box


I've never looked at them.

They're in a cardboard box.

Very environmentally friendly -

you'd have approved of that!


I can't scatter them.

For that, I'd have to touch them,

feel their texture,

let them pass between my fingers.

And I can't do that.


I remember the first time I saw them

at your mother's flat

on a high shelf.

I didn't...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

incurable romantics | under the willow | sunday afternoon | ithell | german boy | crystal clear | surfing | ladys bedstraw | a childhood | loves parachute | his first time | High Tide - 10.47 | I'm bored - feel like dancin' anyone? | knightmoves |

Don't promise!


Don't promise me a paradise!


Don't promise!


Don't tempt by crazy dreams!


Please, don't!


Don't tell me you will miss!


Just give a farewell kiss.


Forget about tomorrow!


It doesn't exist.


Forget about yesterday!


It's brought a sorrow.


You still persist?


We are guilty without a sin.


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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

MY FRIEND | THE SEA | I AM A WOMAN | I am not..... | THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS | Our life looks like a zibra | McCoy | Don't tell me farewell! | Please, stay with me! (Russian romance) | THE DISAPPEARING GENERATION | My life experience | She is so beautiful | Tennis | When I am in a depression | I do know.... | Love | Life roads | From the bottom of my heart |



The steel blue sky,

Hangs above,

All, all the same,

No favouritism granted,

Can such fairness,

Only come of such coldness,

And is it truly all that is wanted?

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Also by Joshua Van-Cook:

The end | Pitch-cast Suits | Whistle-Blower | High Tide | Stars | The Contortionist |


Standing on the threshold,

I have to admit

Your home looks so inviting.

That bluesy guitar

Goes straight to my soul,

And the wind outside,

It is biting!

You dispose of my coat

And draw me inside,

You pour me a glass of wine,

And as you carefully

Pass it to me

Our fingers intertwine.


Your lighting is low and seductive,

Log flames crac...

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Also by Lynn Dye:

17½ | Seal Pups | Benji | Charlie | Our Max | Friendship | Enough's Enough! | Flesh (Free Verse) | Flesh | Warm Embrace |


I am now on Jotspeak - a networking and promotions forum for poets, comedians, authors, musicians, playwrights - writers of every size and description. Check out my profile in the link below and check out the site if you want want to see more!

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Also by Alain English:

Link to Camberwell Gig! | New Gig 30th August | To the Hurricane - a tribute to Alex Higgins 1949-2010 | Featured Gig tomorrow night!!! | Gigs this Week 11th July 2010 | Y Tuesday, Lewisham Day Festival and Short Film Movement | Gig cancelled!!!! |


Before she knew or realised

His mark had then been made

Mesmerised and compromised

His words they danced, they swayed

Curious she felt herself

To question all before

She withdrew, she had to do

Her soul cried out for more

So should she steer this trepid course

And dare adventure’s scorn

Or now bestow a closing line

Forever thence to mourn?

To wond...

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Come sit by me my little one

Let me wipe the tears from your eyes

Your so dear to me my precious  son

Your tender life not long begun


The pain in your body I know it's bad

Supplies didn't arrive today

Your big brown eyes so pitifully sad

For the heat of the sun took your food away


We listen each day, we look to the skies

All of us with our pitiful...

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Also by bernadette herbertson:


Kid in a Cart in Kosovo

Kid in a Cart in Kosovo

A Poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

After Kosovo war ethnic Romany's fled, only to return when the war was over. 11 years later they are still there. Its a UN camp. 89 at are dead from lead.

There's a kid in a cart in Kosovo
Asleep tonight in his bed
Such as it is in a refugee camp
That is poisoned by lead.

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Also by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh:

Srebrenica - Сребреница |

kosovoklaserbromagypsy camp

Mothers Dumplings

Being the way I am

being a endomorph

I know I should not do it,

but who could resist

a bowl of Mothers Dumplings.


Nice and hot and spicy,

cayenne and peppers

potatoes and that lovely

red pickled cabbage,

who could resist

such a feast.


So you see, it's not my fault

it's plain to see

that Mother is to blame,

Her and Her Dumplings


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The Information Super Highway By Lee Blunt

This Poem is about the high tech age we live in and the power of the internet.

Information super highway

I’ve got my laptop my printer and my new P.C.,
I listen to my music on Mp3,

I don’t have to visit the store,
To be told it’s sold,
I get all my music by way of download,

I don’t need to see my friends,
Or even go to work,
I have everything I need,
In my ...

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The Information Super Highway By Lee Blunt | BBC RADIO NOTTINGHAM POETRY PERFORMANCE |

Dreaming of the Tour de France (stage 14-184.5 km)

oooh   ahhh oooh   ahhh oooh   ahhh... aching buttocks aching thighs unseen crowds unseen skies between the shoulders lakes of fire stinging eyes on the spinning tyre calves and heart will explode grip the handles eat the road kilo meters  whirring chains from Revel to Ax 3 Domaines the body's racked the body begs pressing down on u...

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

Persephone's last laugh | Advice to men poets |

Empty Waves

He struggles against the storm,
the waves high above his boat,
He prays for calm.
He seeks desperately for the coast.
What harbour would shelter him?
He, who in the midst of his thunder,
brings disaster to the port, on
the merciless waves of his maelstrom.
He cannot give his all to somebody
while the boat beneath him lists
and wildly dives between
the peaks and tro...

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Also by Steven Kenny:

Off the Hook | No Place... | And finally... |

'The Decision' 'A Review' 'A Dramatic Comedy About a Busker' By Mia Darlone

The bluesy trills of a clarinet were still honeycombing through my mind as  I left the wet summer’s evening to Manchester’s Jazz Festival and climbed the stone steps into the nearby Theatre Royal/ Coliseum Club. The decision was easy for me to make either I accept the kind invitation to watch Mia Darlone’s latest production  ‘The Decision’ or stay put and listen to an endless night of Jazz bene...

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Also by Gus Jonsson:

Boy Meets Girl | Stolen By The Light | Men Of A Certain Age | Katie is a Barmaid |

First Holiday in Ireland

 First holiday in Ireland

I don’t remember if I am honest
much about my first holiday there
apart form all of the photographs.

I don’t recall which station it was
all the way down from
Dublin to Belfast
when the train broke down
and we were forced to stand
in a tiny box with
a half working coal fire
for four hours
before they finally



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sex, skulls and voodoo dolls
stockings and suspenders and mad benders
I fell into her arms.
her hips moving like a snake
trapped my wandering an eye
too quick to avoid like an earthquake
making your heart shake and body quiver
deliver me the darkness
I deserve.
as my head swerves around you and your lips
and your whole body
did you see me in your crystal ball
walking tal...

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witchcraft sex sexy snake


For every zone the climate shows

Either with cool or foolish zoom

At time we say that when we doze

We feel the breeze of climate home...


The climate there is not the same

As one we feel in jungle zone...

Sometimes it's cool and brings the fame -

At times it comes with tough and bone...


In past we felt the manless breeze

But now the tools have chan...

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Pull Apart The Perfect Nest

So then, stick by stick
tonight we tear off strip after strip
the newest feathers first
then the older twigs and vines
with each one
my heart drops
until there's nothing left
and nowhere lower
just empty branches
where our sweet home once was

Inch by inch
we pack and divide the moss
all the soft things we've collected
years of careful, loving selection
pecking them away, each and e...

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break upbreaking up the familydivorcemoving onmoving outseparating

the little leaf

the little leaf

clinging tenaciously to its twig

the dry yellow leaf

trembles and twists

a cruel St Vitus’ dance in the teasing wind

and refuses to let go -

afraid to fly

the shifty breeze reconnoiters

and strikes again

wheezing up the trunk

rifling the raggedy branches

into a twitching frenzy

but the little leaf holds on


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Cliches | Grandma at the Window | Beloved |

Melancholy Baby

Someone whispered on a fiddle,

a siren blew a horn and stretched

out long notes that slung slow rope

around my baby's neck.

Man came with tape and a pencil,

cut him and coloured him in greys;

cast a net and like a marionette

out in the breeze he sways.

My man looks sorry,

now he's nobody

these melancholy days.


An accomplice of the devil,

a J...

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  whilst reading poetic verse

i stumbled upon a curse

that will haunt my dreams

and ruin my life or so it seems


as i shouted about the pains of love

and used metaphors based around a glove

all seemed to be going as planned

and the audience were eating out of my hand


but i didn't impress all

which accumulates my distinct fall

as there was one j...

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Now I know the happy teeth and smiling faces, The banana stained coat and tottering paces, The hand that grasps the latent breast, The head that snuggles upon my chest, The feet that curl around my waist, Her body softly leant against. Was there ever a child so good, I thank God for my motherhood.

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mothers. children

Gas And Air

Never again!

I'm sure I have said that

many times before.

Put the TV on,

Wear a condom

do something other than

re-populate somemore.


Never again I said,

after the last time

I'd rather be dead.

The tears and the pain,

complete bodily drain.

The up and the down,

the rips and the crown,

which drive me insane.


Until the laughte...

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I'm Losing My Faith...

I'm losing my faith in Most Haunted.

It's a TV show

where a team undaunted

enter into locations purported

to host paranormal activity.


Considered with an adult, educated eye...

it gives me the willies.


But my cast-iron faith in psychics

began to rust

when Derek Acorah was busted

using made-up names for ghosts

about as real as

David Cam...

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The Child I Used to Be

 Like the child I used to be

In a timeframe, that hadn’t altered.

I meandered through the meadow
Knee high in grass,  buttercups 
Nodding as I pass, their
Tall and stately faces upturned seeking  the sun.
The hedgerows heavy with blossom.
Their distinctive perfume 
Drifted by me, on the breeze.
The sun warmed my face.
The soft fragrant breeze 
Toyed w...

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Childhood memoriesmeadowsmotorways and nature spoiled.

Science Fiction

Science fiction lies

that we can escape the cage.

Good films, though, great dreams

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Also by Dave Bradley:

Angst | Restlessness |


Twisted Thorns

Can’t you see me!
I’m over here.
Turn around!
I’m standing right here.
Why are you talking about me
as if I wasn’t here?
I’m not invisible.
What the hell is going on?
Officer, officer!
Can’t nobody see me?
Where are you taking my car!
I need that to get home!
Those beers…
Well, I did not drink all of them.
My car is totaled.
But I’m okay...

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Near Death

I went to north wales with my kayak at the weekend and went out in dangerous conditions.  Here's the poetic account of that:

Ferocious winds shrieked shanties

as they battered on the wavetops

of the madly swelling waters

of the dragging ebbing tide.


They threw me in my fragile shell.

They threw me high and far,

as though a creature in its shell

thrown on th...

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Also by Dermot Glennon:

Darkness lands with an ear-splitting bang |




He was the long awaited one

beloved of all his mothers

He came to fulfil the dreams of others

Handmaiden at his feet I fell

My palm caressed his head so well

With Pride and joy my heart did swell

His smile crumbled forlorn, bemused,

in the padded womb he was refused

not cherished but denied his due,

His bewildered longing grew and grew.

Son* and mo...

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These Days.

These days aren't those,

Not even in the same league.

Nothing can compare to the good old days.

Trade in ten years of these,

For one more moment of those.

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Can white light be played like piano keys or plucked like inter stellar strings to harp out in time to the bass beat of black holes?

Do they pump black matter?

Does the sun send out shots of sound to those ears that can hear? Do the suns spin planets on their turntables, twisting sound through the circles?

Does the galaxy spin sound through its circles?

Do the atoms spin sound t...

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a pilgrimage to L'Oréal

Part One – anticipation

She lives in no17 and Max factor
Takes a man
To be lovers lips
The sugared slipping of gloss leaps
And he must taste
Fresh lilacs second skin
Like Lycra fits hips unforgiving in allure
so curves open like a chord
The inner, the outer, the living
The puckered pout is pure
A suckered siren breathes out
gasping moment thanksgiving

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Orange Peel and Apple Pips (June 2008)

Orange Peel and Apple Pips There must be more to life than this: a winter wind and withered kiss upon these frozen, sun-parched lips; just orange peel and apple pips. We're living on remains of death with bottle caps, recycled breath, and feeble rays of advent light illuminate brash Beauty's blight. There's less to love than fragile Rose who blooms in seldom summer prose. We're ...

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Also by Heather:

Finger in the Dust | Billy and the Flowers |




The one who was created as a nurturer, as a leader.

She has metaphorical balls that are stronger than man's physical ones.

She thinks with her heart. Without her mankind would not continue.

She is a mother,a sister, a wife a daughter,a lover a friend.

She is stronger and prettier than diamonds and more dependable than a Volvo.Her inspiration is everlasting.


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Too Much Pressure

Written after i went to the doctor and was told I had high blood pressure and had to take tablets and give up everything i like. I haven't. I take tablets and cycle 50 miles a week. Everything else is as before..especailly BEER. 



This angry young man is still angry, but older

And now Father Time has just pissed on my shoulder.

‘You’ve got to grow up, John...

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Also by Attila the Stockbroker:

It's Made Of Wire |



Sun drifts on a Chardonnay haze,

reflects the bottle green

upon pale skin,

casts long shadows off breathless peaks


dews the valley.


Cooled air kisses flushed red lips,

licks droplets of grape,

and swallows the moment.


Flesh brushes....


tender flesh.


Peregrine fingers explore,

reaching inside

bringing forth soft...

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Also by Ian Nenna:

At Night (rewrite- previously Message) | Message | Dead Goods....are they? |

Brand New Beginnings


Start afresh, unleash from the mesh

Don’t be afraid to make that mess

Suggest to steer away from being a pest

We are continuously tested, stressed to be the best!


Unnecessary- just be truly out of the ordinary

Without being a fool say sorry

Instead of worrying about nothing

Rather than throwing punches

Stuffing our mouths with useless vocabulary!


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Also by DKlastro~*:

Our Capacity 2/7/10 |

If you can ...

If you can wake up every morning groaning

And still raise your head above the pillow,

If you can hit the alarm without moaning,

And stoically accept an all time low,

If you can reach clean clothes each week day morning,

And feel your way to a cup of hot tea,

While finding handbag, phone and key ring,

but not give in to anxiety.


If you can take on a pounding...

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Also by Alison Smiles:

Ambridge cries |

Bashful Brian and the Waggle Dance - my story poem



Down in the valley,

not far from the sea,

lives Brian Bumble,

a bashful bee.


He worked in a field,

for hours and hours,   

gathering the food,

from all the flowers.


Brian was hungry,

at the end of hi...

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Also by Phil Golding:

My ‘Rose’ in a Desert Storm – my poetic song |

Should I publish this?


 In the drab walled room in the attic

I peer from the spotted mirror

in the cavernous dressing table.

Ochre lit.

Out of the sooty window

the ice of muslin flapping wetly

the street  all oil cloth and patent roofs

I am corset bound and flesh-pinched

white and soft above and below

all singed curls and droppered earrings,

peeping coyly

hiding the disease...

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Also by Rachel McGladdery:

Curing Poetry |


You wander aimlessly, trying to find Your way- Lights, beaming on you, Its time, you’re in your prime. Now its time, to find your path. It’s a new day, your friends are Distant- Your life seems to be happy resistant. When the dust settles on the battlefield, And all is said and done, You look back on your accomplishments- And finally realise, you have none.

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A Poem on Your Lips

At the dawn of the morning

There’s a poem on your lips,

And before you lose it yawning,

I steal it with a kiss.

Now I hold it in my cheeks

And I swill the words around,

Tasting for a lyric,

Feeling for a sound.

I swim around the adverbs,

My tongue a sailing ship,

Defining jumbled letters;

Swirling nouns onto my lip.


Cheeks swelling with poss...

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By the shores of Lake Lambrini,

Near the foothills of Panini,

And the plains of Fegatini,

Through the valleys in betweeni,

Where the flowing Canneloni,

Meets the wandering Marscapone.


In amongst the Machiato,

Near the fading Tinto Rosso,

‘Neath the shading of Lambrusco,

South of Castle Osso Buccho.


Here a local pasta maker,

Bought out by a...

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Also by Dave Carr:

Limerick |


Broken Dreams


It was unexpected,
that morning when you left.
The sun shone strongly
through the pane,
my pain shattering the silence
of the emptiness you dropped me in,
A morning moon still in
the sky would not let me rest
from the ignorance
of last night,
false bliss, false peace
as you slept and lied your love upon
my breast.

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broken dreamslove poetrylove poemsdianna hardypoetry 2010sad poemssad poetryrelationship breakup




Such tarring compliments greet me here;

the twisted sweet buds of too clean a word –

they nuzzle their knuckles into the very distant me,

a glue of ant legs for my body.

 Take away my fingers, take away my fist,

remove the bite underneath my lip,


mother, a plagiarism,

something remembered, never born.



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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Sister Houdini |

Naomi Hefter


The last drop of hope was snatched from my heart,
I don't know how to accept that we are offically apart.
The words I read, cut through me so cold,
I dreaded to know the truth I knew would be told.
My images that once filled my mind are no longer just thoughts,
'cuz what happened was real,your lies I never bought.
My black hole now deepened with e...

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Also by Naomi Hefter:

Naomi Hefter |

its not......






















I D...

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Rough Justice

                                                            Rough Justice




Was not his forte!

But it was something he was compelled to do,

And living was not his want

For the punishment was unwarranted,

And all the while he found himself

In need of explanations,

And his heart was sat in puzzlement,

At every deed they’d said.


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Also by Noetic-fret!:

The Forefathers Scientist | Outside the Window |

New Company

I met my old friends,

as new company.

Always two of them,

and only one of me.

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