Poetry Blogs (Oct 2011)
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 ...
Monday 31st October 2011 4:23 pm
Also by M.C. Newberry:CRAZY WORLD - a song lyric | QUESTION | DOWN BY THE MEWSTONE | TWO GIGGLING GIRLS | SUNDAY SONG | TURNING BACK THE CLOCK | THE PROPERTY DEVELOPER | THE GAY DOG | LAST POST | WHAT DO I KNOW? | A DISTANT HAZE | TAKE ME BACK TO ROCK AND ROLL | Daddy Knew Johnny Cash | WHERE DO YOU GO WHEN YOU GO WHERE YOU DO? | DADDY KNEW JOHNNY CASH | SUNSET OVER START BAY | YESTERDAY ONCE MORE | THE GALMPTON ROBIN | BE STILL | The Spider | George Best - football legend | Bore |
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...
Monday 31st October 2011 1:32 pm
Also by NICK ARMBRISTER:ABDUCTEE | SPIRIT | MISSING | HARMONY | PARTY | GOTHIC STORM | WEB | A NEW YEAR | SHE HAS THE ANSWERS | VETERAN | GALLOWS | BIZARRE | ALL ALONE | EYE FOR AN EYE | DESERT CLASH | TRINE | FOREVER POND | SO | RECRUITING SERGEANT | UNCARING MAN | YOU CALLED | THING | TRASH OVERHEAD | I BECOME NOTHING | WAR GODDESS | GENERATION | SOUTHERN SONG | THE TRAGEDY OF SONG | PASSENGERS OF LIFE | INTO MY MIND |
amber the berries on
a berberis bush where
the steadfast thrush
has yanked a worm
in autumnal garb the
garden grubbier than
i’d prefer with branches
long and overhung
fine mist globules
on blades of grass
the rear plot now
readying for winter
yet this is the sort of
place i would write
home about if this
Monday 31st October 2011 10:29 am
Also by Philipos:SHOP CLOSED. | EVENING. | THE TARTAN BARD. | CHILD CARERS. | SNIPPETS. | TRILOGY. | AVIANS. | EXPLANATION NEEDED. | SKANKY STREETS. | EXODUS. | UNDER WRAPS. | SENSORIAL. | ARABIAN NIGHTS. | CHILLS. | PAPPAS FRITTAS. |
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
Sunday 30th October 2011 11:11 pm
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.
Sunday 30th October 2011 11:01 pm
Also by John Coopey:A Bloke's Back Brake Block Broke | Overjoyed with Schadenfreude | The Things We Do For Love | "Imagine my Surprise..." | "Widening the Circle of Friends" |
Sunday 30th October 2011 9:29 pm
trailing in my wake
like unwanted creatures
searching for a home
they have sought me out
and each time
arising more darkly reincarnated
seeking to tear to pieces
all I have fought to be
the phoenix of hope within
trying so hard to rise
Sunday 30th October 2011 7:07 pm
I dabbed on a bit Kouros, had 4 pints, ogled a bit of arse,
Played pool and then went home to cold meat pie,
I dreamt I could run through walls,
Could smash through them like an Exocet,
I’d hit them full on, at supersonic speed, exploding rubble
And clouds of thick red dust upwards and everywhere,
It was an incredible sensation, I was unstoppable,
Sunday 30th October 2011 6:29 pm
Also by mike watts:and on that bombshell | Facing the enemy | Reasons to be cheerful |
imagining her face
a butter dish
the cow on the lid
is sat on a creamy base
licks of grass growing up its sides
in gossamer tissue
taped at the edges
so as not to give away
all the way home
Sunday 30th October 2011 12:00 pm
The wind is making my hips creak
It's no use wind
I'm too rusty to be a weathercock
Sunday 30th October 2011 10:41 am
Also by Neil Richards:Rain | list |
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
We have penetrated
The mysteries of this...
Sunday 30th October 2011 9:52 am
Also by Kealan Coady:Sometimes I Am Not Born | Voice In The Dark |
I was feeling a little radical
but she didn’t seem to mind
she was acting a little madical
but she nearly blew my mind
it all just seemed so badical
the semtex and the screws
I feel a little sadical
for us to end up on the news
I’m more than a little gladical
seventy virgins waiting here
but what’s that grumbling far away?
Saturday 29th October 2011 9:46 pm
Also by Banksy:Albion | put it in a sock | GSOH | doggy style | meanderings |
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 ...
Saturday 29th October 2011 6:08 pm
Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:Brain And Body | Let the Wind Rage Outdoor... | A PRAYER | A Message | A La Larissa Perfume | My Funny Money |
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,
Saturday 29th October 2011 3:00 pm
Also by Lynn Dye:Daughter (II) | Daughter | Colin's Memory | Proposal | No More! | Autumn Dawn | Love Games | Mama Santa | Domestic Goddess | Old Shoe Box | Rock Star |
Saturday 29th October 2011 2:19 pm
Also by STEVE RUDD:A Poem for Bernard | Shutting-In Time |
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...
Friday 28th October 2011 9:53 pm
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.
Friday 28th October 2011 6:42 pm
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.
I’m not dancing
On the ceiling of conformists
Interpretations of how
They express their freedoms,
But I am dancing!
I am the harlequ...
Friday 28th October 2011 2:29 pm
Also by Noetic-fret!:Tightrope | Our Children's Timeline | Firmly Planted - Solomon Jabby | American? | Abandoned | Fated Bubble of Warmth | Domestic Violence | Fathers 4 Justice | Sven Vath feat Noetic-fret! - Harlequins Meditation | Quarantine | Tipping My Hat |
I'm losing it
I'm losing it
I'm stood right here
an ice cold one
that thrills of
my abusing it
I excuse myself
a ruse myself
excuses me and
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.
Friday 28th October 2011 2:48 am
Also by Tommy Carroll:Five degrees of separation (19th Oct 2011) | Involvement | Persephone's Perpetuum | Expression of freedom |
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.
Thursday 27th October 2011 9:24 am
Blog from Rachel on Inky’s October Open Mic. And it was our first anniversary too.
Inky is baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaccccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!
Following the mania that was the August Mini-Fest, Inky Fingers took some much needed zzz’s in September. We had discussed using our massive salary bonuses to fly our tired selves to Cuba for the next planning meeting, but it turns out Do...
Wednesday 26th October 2011 7:59 pm
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...
Wednesday 26th October 2011 6:08 pm
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,
Wednesday 26th October 2011 3:30 pm
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...
Wednesday 26th October 2011 2:34 pm
YOU are surrounded by glass
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...
Wednesday 26th October 2011 12:00 am
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.
Tuesday 25th October 2011 11:26 pm
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 ...
Tuesday 25th October 2011 10:08 pm
Also by Peter Asher:Wild Cat |
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...
Tuesday 25th October 2011 7:44 pm
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.
Tuesday 25th October 2011 6:20 pm
Also by Ann Foxglove:autumn egg | great north diver | beautiful in snow | son goes | apple haiku | "The last remaining Mara hare . . . " | beguiled by seals |
Sycamore leaves fall,
Evening paths become golden
Veins of memory
Tuesday 25th October 2011 4:44 pm
Tuesday 25th October 2011 4:38 pm
Also by Dave Dunn:True Love Starts... | Could Have |
Oh, thou wicked, wicked man,
Prickle, thorn, and deepest thicket.
Doing the very best you can
To be half the man you used to be.
When lay you abed of wild wood flowers
In cool tall rye grass beneath a shimmering canopy of night,
Kissing out the stars until the morning hours
As if all dream magic of those moments can
Every find her heart amore,
Oh, thou wicked...
Tuesday 25th October 2011 2:40 pm
Also by Augusta Darling:Blue Bluest Blue Series 3 | Blue Bluest Blue (Series No.2) ( To be read in conjunction with previous poem) | Blue Bluest Blue |
Great poetry and acoustic music night-
This Thursday Night- 8pm!
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...
Monday 24th October 2011 9:36 pm
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 ...
Monday 24th October 2011 8:10 pm
Also by Jack Pascoe:Hooded Youth | Christmas in Camden |
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,...
Monday 24th October 2011 2:59 pm
The drips come in
from the bathroom
to my favourite home tomb
with all the solutions
the answer is there
by the earthen
now out of the tin
i pop it
on the side
the drips come in
Monday 24th October 2011 2:30 pm
Also by Sim Le Wilt:Call centred | Walk tall | Time | No time like the present |
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...
Monday 24th October 2011 2:13 pm
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
through long ages
the strong the crafty c...
Sunday 23rd October 2011 3:20 pm
What’s on the B side?
I’m here again, in this endless trough
The walls all slippery and smooth
As before, I jump up to gain a hold
Then slide back to the floor in a crumpled heap
A wall in the distance I move that way
Over strange things that stare at me
Their surface like the wall but colder to touch
One more time in the sky above us
That impossibly hu...
Sunday 23rd October 2011 12:16 pm
Also by Clayton Mooreorless:Blackness waits | Jim Reaper | Vista |
Saturday 22nd October 2011 4:22 pm
Yes Sir, I can dance.
I have been given
a second chance.
Life is colour.
I no longer wonder with hesitation.
I know what I am searching for.
I will keep my reputation.
Life is a sweet sensation.
I have a second chance.
I can dance all life long.
I cannot go wrong.
Yes Sir, I feel like talking.
I feel like sauntering through time....
Saturday 22nd October 2011 2:05 pm
Also by Jules Clare:Love Shroud | Appreciation | Circles of Love | Wire |
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 the unknown, who are nice
then robbers and murderers
She tells me not to post this
because it’s cheesy
Saturday 22nd October 2011 9:54 am
Also by Isobel:Skin Deep | Chlamydia |
A lot of modern women today either can't, or don't choose to sew..
Why bother when you can throw away cheap to buy, cheap to make clothes
at the first signs of a rip or tear, or because the machine stitching's been put under strain
by weight gain?
Everything's made by semi slave labour in the far east anyway; if we in the west didn't
throw everything away long before it's ...
Friday 21st October 2011 6:18 pm
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
Friday 21st October 2011 6:06 pm
Also by Dave Carr:Not a tit at all | Logic |
After The Fall
To deny her nothing
To be perfect
(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
They gather together scattered bits
In need and in too deep
In pebbles of a drying rose
Blues fall like darkness
Like warriors tired from battle
Friday 21st October 2011 2:18 pm
Also by J. Otis Powell‽ (with interrobang):Politics | From Wise, Why's, Y's (reported by Mike Hazard) | Island Life & Fear Of Fire | Amnesiacs | Jarred Bottle: Revolution would never occur... | Voices of the Andoumboulou |
Beneath the biscuit-bitten moon of dawn
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.
Friday 21st October 2011 10:23 am
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 Centre to create t...
Thursday 20th October 2011 11:23 pm
Writer's Block (a sort of list poem)(and thanks from one Boltonian to another. In memory of Hovis Presley )
I miss you... like blank pages in a book,
Like the slaughterman without a hook,
The bones of fish, In Rupert's dried-up Brooke,
The blindest alley I've never took.
I miss you ....like a pen with a leaking nib,
Baby Jesus in t'wrong crib,
A crane that's lost its jangling jib,
A lonely 'ul without a quib!
I miss you like a singer who's lost his voice...
Thursday 20th October 2011 10:15 pm
Also by martin rimmington:Shadow | Therapy |
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...
Thursday 20th October 2011 9:20 pm
Also by ant:Doubting Thomas Or Epiphany in Halifax Last Sunday | You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine | The Real thing | GSOH | Merry Christmas Archie |