Persian Punch found a secure place in the affections of the racing public - always trying his

best.  And when he collapsed and died in the final stages of a race at Ascot the sorrow was immediate and heart-felt.

..............................................................................

Brave eyes wept at the Ascot course

When he came to the end of his run;

For the going ...

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£4.88

Your body was found dead in your flat, three months gone and smelling like hell.

They came and took you away, to the morgue downtown, an unhappy place.

Clearing your flat they found £4.88, not much to show for a lonely death.

Always on your own, eternally in death. How sad no one will see you buried, a pauper’s death, the undertaker the only witness at this sol...

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 From nowhere,a face visions.
Into a day of countless missions,
Awkward to grasp emotional bliss.
Wanton of much,the invisible kiss.
Seeking contentment,equality gain
Running wild,blind the same.
Grasping handfulls of transparant air
Will she be gone,or stay the dare>?
Will she to me,as me to she
Or run the mile,or will we be.
One moment more,a seconds grasp
Dissalusions m...

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The photo tells the story

As only pictures can

About the time some years ago

The Boy met with The Man.

The Boy was Billy Bremner -

He looks about to cry;

The schoolyard bully held to task;

The Man was Dave Mackay.

Each held a reputation

But paid each no regard,

While Bremner was plain dirty

Mackay – well, he was hard.

Thoug...

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Bought,

imagining her face

her smile

a butter dish

from Derbyshire

the cow on the lid

painted cheerfully

is sat on a creamy base

licks of grass growing up its sides

Wrapped

in gossamer tissue

taped at the edges

so as not to give away

its contents

beautiful

held

tightly

carefully

all the way home

sandwi...

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For the organic and furious

A question and a sure thing

Is divided by nothing but time.

The moon could kill us all

With an inch of its bravery

Enslave us all in wonder forever

For the simple act of falling

Further and without hesitation

Into the darkening shack

Of mad curiosity

But instead

We have penetrated

The mysteries of this...

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May be I am not as strong as it seems to be,

But I am not as weak as someone wants me to be.

It’s not the question of whom to marry,

It’s the question what to do with the rest:

Gary. Larry, Barry, Jerry……

            A drunken man shouted as his voice allowed:

            Where am I? I feel like to cry!

            You are in Soho square if to be ...

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Sorry to disappoint any Halloween hosts,

But I can’t seem to find the heart,

When confronted with vampires and ghosts,

I am just a boring old fart.

It’s an American thing, not British at all.

My childhood passed well enough without.

Therefore, this palaver is not my call,

I hardly know what it is about!

Halloween had never come to my street,

...

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My entry for the Sunday Times EFG Short Story Competition, 2012

http://tinyurl.com/5ttsyy2

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(with regrets)

Rose, it doesn`t need me to say

How warm your eyes are,

How full of the merry-dance flicker and play

Of flame. The light of a bright star`s

Cold compared ( that light`s more near,

Snug from your heart-blaze, cosy and charm and cheer).

These are but truths.

And you`ve got grace girl, your dancing soothes

Tired eyes, as in...

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Tomorrow evening,
with supper and a smile,
I'll stay awake with the ghost
of the girl you used to be,
and talk shit about the girl
you are now.

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I have had a request to place this piece back. So for Lynn and anyone else, here it is. The original music score is called Harlequins Meditation and it is by a fantastic Dance Music composer called Sven Vath.

Harlequin

I’m not dancing

On the ceiling of conformists

Interpretations of how

They express their freedoms,

But I am dancing!

I am the harlequ...

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I'm losing it

I'm losing it

I'm stood right here

refusing it

an ice cold one

that shouts-

'get  gone!'

that thrills of 

my abusing it

I excuse myself

a ruse myself

excuses me and

I myself

deny myself

a lift from

this Moscow mule

that i drive myself

I'm losing it

I'm losing it

I'm giving in

and chosing it.

...

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In veils of secrecy the captured states

Obscure the havens of the ultra-rich,

Who claim to hover in their global cloud;

Untouched, untaxable and out of reach.

They slip through loopholes spun, in legal webs,

By spider lawyers, lobbyists, - with bribes.

They loot our assets; dodge, evade and hide;

And multiply their influence round the globe.

Wha...

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It's been a while since I've hit WoL with anything and thought I'd come back and see what people are up to.

I've been trying out a new way of writing poetry in the 1st person. As it's not my favourite form of writing (i.e. writing about my own experiences) I've started with a character description and have written a poem from that character's description. So let's see what you think a...

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The 144 to Birmingham took twenty years

to burgeon from a blemish on the horizon

to the finish of the marathon. She promised

me I’d catch it, and waiting is a hard habit

to stop, unlike this Midland Red bus that plods

at funeral carriage pace. Of all the days

in all the Mays she dies upon the hottest -

always inapposite: mini – skirted in her forties,

wearing hig...

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http://soundcloud.com/postconcussionsyndrome/shells-with-the-hardest-of-hearts-cb-version/

An instrumental (from Shell's Lunar Park EP released in June 2010 - not to be confused with the infinitely inferior Florence and the Machine tune) was offered on a "name your price" basis on http://shells.bandcamp.com, so I grabbed it. Thanks to Shells for making it available FOC for piss-poor poets p...

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Read more …

YOU are surrounded by glass

Within that

The world

Can observe

The normality of dinner

The association of wealth

The body on the table

The watching of soaps

The entertaining of guests

The reading of books

Masturbation in bedrooms

The privacy of thought.

WE live under mirrors

And reflect them back at you

With that emotion

We coat o...

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I'd rather be a blip. Two nights a week, Big-headed to think I get in. But I'd rather think that then nothing. An apple or a pear? You choose? Waiting for a text, But I don't want it to come. Level headed? Two extra drinks, why not haaaaaa. Mine, the strongest. Better than not. Regrettable on Friday.

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Gathering Wool

As I think I walk through an orrery

Of aspirations in parallel to the sixth constant

And oppression in madness trims the borders

Where the feet of the dead pursue

And embrace every stranger.

Though chastity is born of consecration

The chasm of lust denies

The broken glimpse of a benevolent hell.

And we beckon, crying,

Smelling of the ...

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For more than a year he screams to the sky, daring God to do his worst......
Disconcerting.  See me stand at our small bay window,
shrinking into shadow.
...........

He reflects the sum, the sorry state,
political views, skewed past the norm,
there's a darkness inside, deception
of self, eternal, burnt deep within.

He tames his world with fire and ash,
pollutes Mrs B...

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I guess I should have worried

When you used to chop up worms

But I was your loving mother

So I wasn’t too concerned.

Maybe it was a bad sign

When you set fire to your bed

But I was just so doting

“Oh dear” was all I said.

And on the occasion

You hacked off your sister’s plaits

I must have been on your side so

We’ll draw a veil o'er that.

The...

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October

Sycamore leaves fall,

Evening paths become golden

Veins of memory

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'ThePoetry Spoke'

Great poetry and acoustic music night-

This Thursday Night-  8pm!

La Gondola 

22a Liscard Crescent

Wallasey- The Wirral

CH44 1AE   (a stones throw over the Mersey from Liverpool)

Check us out in the gig guide and view the photo- we're the venue/wine bar that has all the ivy going on lol.

Our Guest Poet

WOLs own!  ‘Dave Brad...

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Gather round children I'll tell you a tale

about a musical movement modelled to fail,

it made us jump, it made us cry

and put safety pin sales at an all time high.

It mocked the establishment filled them with dread

put kids on the dole on a stage instead,

t'was a thing of excitement that let us be free

but ultimately it wasn't to be.

It began in the summer ...

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I rustle through crisp clusters of lost, crunching leaves

Which gather, bunched and rusting russet, in the thickets

And sniff the wafting, musty, fusty, rustic scents

Of fungal undergrowth amongst sparse, once-lush bushes.

Last, rash, brash leaflets stick to sycamore and ash

But soon shall slip their tenuous grips and hustle, fluttering

To forest’s floor to settle,...

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The drips come in
from the bathroom
to my favourite home tomb
with all the solutions
the kitchen

the answer is there
by the earthen
ware
i plan
to bake
a flan
base

their absorbency
is
ace

now out of the tin
i pop it
on the side
where
the drips come in

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It was a public madness:

comments not making sense, snow-flaking words on photos shared by friends of friends.

Oblique comments passed by lookers on. ‘WTF’s she on about?’ and ‘get her tole’ and passive vaguings mentioning getting better  for the kids.

 And I sit and mourn her while she lives. Watch it huge and vast.

Remembering my own lost year

and feel a little anxio...

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from birth to death

sole goal - survival - food shelter procreation

physical packaging – noses eyes skin size

adaptive to given environments

polar tropical temperate mountains jungles deserts

group isolation for long ages

but erratic climates shifted tectonic plates drifted

peoples migrated

and mixed

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She loves me to the sun and back

moon, planet, stars

She loves me 100%

(which is as far as you can go)

She has a love chain

and I’m at the top

along with God and Jesus

Below me come family

then friends

then neighbours

then the unknown, who are nice

then robbers and murderers

who aren't

She tells me not to post this

because it’s cheesy

...

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Disc drive stutters.

Confused eyes stare.

Information is regurgitated

by acquiescent lips.

Old data perfectly preserved

in files long forgotten

but yesterday's data

has to be re-entered

and re-entered.

Directory error.

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After The Fall

To deny her nothing

To be perfect

To love

(Like I love myself)

As she is

As she will

To want magic

To want more of her

Dreams don't phantom can't

Won't accept never

No

They gather together scattered bits

And build

In need and in too deep

In pebbles of a drying rose

Blues fall like darkness

Like warriors tired from battle

Like dre...

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Beneath the biscuit-bitten moon of dawn

Something’s coming.

There’s a hint of something unknown,

unprecedented enough that even the howling wind has flaked

To something spider-thin;

To the bare wire frames of lyricism.

Since then, the sky has darkened.

And static has started to  skitter across asphalt and window-frames.

L...

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Swindon is twinned with Ocotal but it is also tenuously half-rhymed with Chicargo.

Swindon is challenging global poetry inequality.

Swindon Zoo contains the last known thesaurus in captivity.

All our pavements rhyme.

There is irony in our skyscrapers.

Swindon has more imaginary buildings than anywhere else in the world.

Work will soon commence on the Oasis Leisure ...

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                             My Shooting Stars By Alice Age 6

'In our last session, you said you couldn’t say  

Just how it made you feel'.

Three long  years on, still mistaking my frown as hesitance,

She consulted notes. A  professional , tiny, half-smiled prompt.

 I 'd drifted off and wasn’t sure how long my absence

Lasted, The face I’d drafted on, assuring

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"Nice to see you

To see you nice".

Tip-tapping in waistcoats;

On the noble steed that is

Tess Daly.

Wielding his chin

Like a sabre,

And winning the nation's

Favour, "'Cos

That's the name of the game".

He's not a king,

Queen or Jack.

He's not even "higher

Or lower" - he's a knight!

Bruce Forsyth:

Knight of t...

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There’s a woman who thinks she can

Have a wet dream about a vague man

She's ghost-boned with an ear to the floor

She hears whispers from the room below

But you can’t have a wet dream over vague men

There’s a baby crying for a mother

There’s an old man screaming out for another

Another daydream of times gone by

Another nightmare of a long goodbye

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Sweet Heart we

used to make love,

now all we

do is fight.

I cry myself

to sleep

many a night.

I'm angry with you,

I think maybe

you're having

an affair.

You're angry with

me, cause you say

emotionally I'm

not there.

I guard my

heart, because

...

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I love a motorbike ride

An open road signals freedom,

Freedom from everyday restrictions,

Rules that keep me in check.

Nagging worries that drag me down.

Its liberating, exhilarating,

Lying low, head down chin up,

Open throttle and feeling the wind

Whistling past.

Tyres on asphalt sing their song.

Engine finely tuned throbbing along.

Bobbing and...

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Poets Corner

A Brand new modern and upbeat venue - 'open mic poetry night' set in Hoylake's stunning Rock and Cocktail Bar that is -'Glassfire' . (next to Hoylake Station - Wirral)

We meet on the 3rd Tuesday in every month 8pm til late pm

All levels of Poet and  types of Poetry will be made very welcome by your hosts Graham Robinson  and Stella Jones - who are both Both Published an...

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Take a look into my eyes,
And maybe we will find
that between you and me
It's the way that love should be.

She told me I had beautiful eyes
her heart said friends
and her mouth did too...
and my mind's confused now I'm not with you.

See I can be the best friend that I have been for years
or I can be the guy that can hold you near.
But I can't be this.

You s...

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I made myself in the room.

The dab of this and that -  it swept me up in the carpet,

flickered a groove,

a voice needing abit of spice to.

I tried to uncover myself,

away from the city, to find a place where the outside

could hurt me - amber bites, and a call

that could strip me of the way I stood on two.

I took the fast words I hear us talk,...

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Seeking fish,

snowy egrets stalk the shallows,

white as the far snowy Sierra Nevada summits.

The breakers battering Pacific Valley Bluff

are as white as the comical prize chef's hat of the chili cook-out winner,

worn with pride and good humour.

He is white.

White, one of the race that is fading,

losing the wave,

the white surf wave .

Brown for the s...

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