Poetry Blogs (Apr 2011)

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Mind The Buzzcocks

  You've finally made into a mediocre indie group

but your struggling to keep in the popular cycle loop

the second single clings on to mtv2

so your manager suggests the last option to do

"lads listen, it's time to come clean

it's tough to make it big with your music business dream

albums sales aren't going well

and it's starting to get hard to tell

if you'll be o...

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Also by Josh Coates:

Lancaster | Life Line |

the little darlings

entry picture

I was only acting the goat
reading out loud from the kid’s menu
at The Ivy

Sausage & Beans
Fish Fingers & Chips
Twizzlers ‘n dip
 
you know the score

but they didn’t seem
to get the joke
 - asked us to leave,
all sniffy, like.

you try & get my kids to eat
foie gras
with morels
and loganberry coulis

they’d rather eat their own eyeballs.

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Also by Banksy:

Phyllis Tyne | our lot | soft closure | sedimentary, my dear Watson | The Twilight Zone | the secret path | a kind of heaven | Nancy | everyone is us | my life as wax | Smothering Sunday | Sarajevo | innocence |

POSTCARDS.

COACH RIDE NORTH.

 

i liked the gritty northern towns –

sturdy back-to-backs with grey slate

roofs so intimate i thought - and

accents much less plumier

 

we passed through various spots

some offering surprises in a none

effusive way – and then i noted solid

buildings of more affluent times

 

blackpool loomed and we explored a

seedier side wi...

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Also by Philipos:

THREE REFLECTIONS. | ASH FRIDAY THOUGHTS. | LIFE CYCLE. | POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCES. | OLD BROOKWOOD HOSPITAL. | BLACK VELVET. | COMBUSTION. | UNDERBELLY. | PEEPHOLES (2). | GARDEN OF REST. | PEEPHOLES. | HANDBRAKE. | SOMETHING MISSING. | RIP. |

'But a man'

‘But a man’


If it were, for only birds to see
Through skies, far and wide
Then would we not want to see

Through birds eyes?

If it were only for the horses to gallop
Distances far and wide
And only our limbs could take us there
Could we take that, in our stride?

If it were for only fish to swim
To cross oceans, rivers and waters full
And to sink to their depths of ...

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bsafe1stalwaysJohn Harrisonnaturepoempoetpoetryspoken wordthepoetjohn

Amsterdam (after Robert Burns)

 

Based on "My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns
 
Oi, my nose and eyes are red like those long stemmed roses
That we saw tossed in the bin.
O, my sun-burnt love is like that man who set himself on fire
In Amsterdam, the city of sin.
 
As fair-priced are you, my lovely lass,
As the girls in those windows
You'd come cheap at twice the price
...

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There's Something about April

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There’s something about April -
  the way she wears her clothes:
    loosely fit. One button more
      and September is exposed.
        The veil removed, her flesh reveals
          December’s naked trees;
             Springtime lurks behind the bark
               and drags me to my knees.
 
               I kneel upon her dewy cloak
            And make her moss my bed;
...

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Also by Alan Morrison:

Aloneness | Captive Phoenix | Losing it |

AprildeathlatencyrebirthSeptemberspring

BRITISH SECRET HISTORY

                                                 BRITISH SECRET HISTORY

 

 

                        Nineteen seventy-seven,

A competition for kids on housing estates,

Beaten and battered

Singing God Save the Queen –

And lo behold – pain from the sixties crowd,

If flags are not waved for her Majesty’s Reign.

 

            Beaten and battered and soon to be...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

There is a Sun Up There! | Stripped |

conspiracywar

royal wedding day

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I notice my champagne flute has a chip –

trust me to pick the only one.

But then

what can you expect from Oxfam?

 

Just yesterday I thought

“Stuff the royal wedding!

What do I care?

Shall I become a media-manipulated pawn?

Vive la revolution!”

 

Yet here I am today,

defiant with my bottle of champagne

and M&S Chinese takeaway.

While...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

four weddings | the king and queen | mousey | female ritual | the male twins | meat and potatoes | The Tooth |

The Undertaker

He walks through the day to night,

a celestial seismograph under his heart,

buck toothed, taken from the mother by force;

a palm stroke, affiliated.

 

Carp-tongued, summer stilted, starched

with collar book marked chin,

he is not amphibian –

spreading legs, to grow with groans, a form meandering,  sucking air through ripples,

 

he, being taken from the h...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

The Wreckers |

Not For Us

A boss so tight you just wouldn’t believe,

She takes bank holidays from our annual leave.

Now this year there’s an extra public holiday

For the Royal Wedding, hip-hip-hooray!

Except we have to work so it’s not for us.

Any wonder we feel like making a fuss?

 

Surrounding businesses will all be closed,

So we’re just opening to count our toes!

The reason she gav...

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Also by Lynn Dye:

I Hear You | And Your Name Is...? |

The Continuing Story of John the Hat

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(back inside again)

 

There’s a bloke goes down our pub called John the Hat

Who’s always worth 10 minutes for a chat

Just mention what it is you need –

Wine from Spain, beer from Leeds

Christian Dior, GHDs

He’ll get ‘em, John the Hat.

 

The Champagne that you sold me was dead flat

With whooshes of weak tea and piss of gnat

It always left me full of ga...

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Also by John Coopey:

Betty's | Happy Birthday, Dave | Capital Crime (Eats, Shoots and Leaves) | A Bit of a Skinflint | 84 - 0 |

This Solipsism

I fell asleep one dry spring afternoon
And when I woke, I couldn’t place the mornings events
Were they dreamed, were they yesterday
Where do they fit in my reality?

I sat dozing on a train between cities
Caught a flashing glimpse in the oscillating scenery
It was with me with saucer eyes, from another time
A memory that I couldn’t place

Could there have been another world before this?
Like a brain in a ...

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Giving the world to Venus

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This is a poem written by Hilary Walker (pictured). It is here in English and a French translation,  the result of work between Hilary and French poets at Write Out Loud's Bordeaux poetry event in 2006.

You are welcome to comment on HIlary's poem and/or to offer suggestions for its translation.

Ecrit par Hilary Walker et traduit par elle et des poètes Francais en 2006. Vous êtes invités...

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The Road to Somewhere

Dedication

 

This collection is dedicated to Mercy. I wish I had known you all my life.

 

It is also dedicated to the great people who have benefitted from the care and support provided by Tynedale Hospice.

 

You will not be forgotten.

 

Jules, 27th April 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

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Also by Jules Clare:

An Audience with Jules | An Ode to Willington | We Are Willington | The Vales of Wales | Mr. U | Death's Despair | I Am Fit | Criminals | My Wall | Couple | My Floor | Sorry | Day In, Day Out | Drinking | Insults | A Satisfying Smile | Blowing My Mind | I Am Happy | An Eye For An Eye | Two Faced | I Am Cold | Give Me Your Hand | Down in the Mouth | Seize The Day | Rematch | My Home Town | The Wedding |

Minerva

Adrienne is my Goddess true.

Just gets on Minerva.

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Old library

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Musty aired whisperings

a world of sandwhiched words,bound

and shoulder to shoulder

telling of why,s wherefore,s wonderment,wit and wisdom

 

dust topping gives away those out of favour

spaces in between giving away those,in(but out)

all standing on shelves

shelves boxed in sections

standing in rows like a cemetery

 

reading not so much as sad epitaphs

...

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The Hope Chest

 The lid is fast,

grimed with dust and age

polish and grease.

If I could open it,

Hope would fly free,

in an exhaled sigh of moths and grit.

It would catch the throat with incense.

Beeswax breath.

So I content myself with tracing round the carvings,

place my fingers where the brailled blind once did

sit with itchy legs on cut moquette

swing them

d...

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Also by Rachel McGladdery:

Gypsy Nanna King |

Lost Shadows

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Lost Shadows
 
Shadows were lost
like horses lost at
the end of a painting.
 
Shadows were lost
at the top of an hill
like a debt of honour.
 
Paradise lost.
 
Death soiled.
 
Unbroken.
 
Shadows were lost
across trenches
treasuring the sun
unbroken
without speaking its name.
 
Unbroken
without telling the full story
an...

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Also by Andy N:

Spring is here |

Shadows

Cup of Tea


Cup of Tea

Woke up
One of those dark winter mornings
A cup of tea
Is my calling
The simple pleasures in life
Need to be enjoyed
I look out of the window
And I feel buoyed
A cup of tea
Is just about right
I turn over the page
I turn on the light
I sit down
And I take it all in
Winter is here
And it is a cold day
But its crispness
Almost steals me away
A...

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Also by Side Salad:

Friendship Circle | Gin and Tonic | The Way We Almost Collide | The One? | She is Trying to Lose Weight | Textbook | Your Holiness | A Nudge and a Wink | I Was Married Once | Scripted | Did It Work Out For You | Happy | Daisy Chain | Bridge Over Troubled Estuary Waters | I Wear the Shoes they Buy Me | My Heart Should be made of Colourful Plasticine | Work in Progress | I Could Drown in the Comfort of Your Arms | How Much is too Much? | Chronology | Birth | I Am a Shy Person | Friends Matter More | The Man and his Poetry | Forever My Princess | Recovery |

Mendres Monologue

I'm playing Mendres, the identity of the devil and lead antagonist in an upcoming British film called Dark Domain.

I wrote this piece as a spoken word/metal fusion piece for the project.

_____________
 

Some say the pen is mightier than the sword,

But they all fear the might of my demonic horde.

I'm Mendres, I'm the devil incarnate,

I use the Dark Domain and I seal your fa...

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Also by IndigoAngelUshiku:

Make love, not religion | Socialism in my heart | When pyramids fall |

dark domaindeathdevilevil.MendresmetalpoetryrockSatansci-fi

Vanguard

The dark attacks

Like music or tumours

Shedding the definite of light,

The very essence of it.

 

Only the lonely

Deserve the service

Of certain thoughts.

But a sudden

Cruel mood moves in.

The singularity where

 

No thought escapes

But one which lasts for seconds.

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Also by Kealan Coady:

Modern Imperfections |

Shot at Dawn

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`

 

 

At nineteen you were still a child
hopping off to an aggrandised war
filled with romantic and exuberant air

At nineteen you travelled over the channel
to Mons, by the Belgian border marching
there receiving the horrors of humiliated retreat

At nineteen you went missing
first in Dublin taking leave wi...

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DesertionExecutionforgivenessMonspardonWarWWI

A Sin?

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is it a sin

when a man wants in

the place he came out

with a cry out loud

a new life to begin ?

 

©Larisa Rzhepishevska

April 25th, 20011

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Happy Easter! | HAPPY BIRTHDAY! | PALM SUNDAY | I Love | How Are You, My Friend? | I Loved | The Truth, The Lie And The Fact | To Be Or Not To Be? |

sin

Over and Out

Over and over     It go's round my head

Over and over     I pick at every thread

Over and over     I can't let it go

Over and over     A constant Mojo

Over and over     Ash's to ash

Over and over     FLASH

 

What waits on the other side

I don't know what i'll find

Maybe heaven Maybe hell

That's it !!!! in a nutshell

Onwards into the grate unknown

...

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Also by Ian Devine:

Drink Drink Drink Some More‏ (song) | Drama and Crises | Make it go Away‏ | Into You (song) By Dave Haze & Ian Devine‏ | Sleep if only |

Quick

 

A quick one...

 

Quick

 

A somnambulant wake

Of tired tights pulled

Over smooth bores,

And pleats in disarray

Far from the ironed yesterday.

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Also by Hayden:

It's Been a Long Time - Gatecrash |

ClothesLegsPoemPoetryWar

Sunset

Age 13

 

In the land beyond the sunset lives a maid,

A wondrous maid.

Behind the salmon-streaked horizon

Hides she her perfect form of alabaster white.

In her eyes are the first stars of dusk,

In her glowing hair the sun’s last golden ray,

Bright golden ray.

Her flaming tresses filter through the clouds

That nestle round her milk-white breast.

With a ...

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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Rowing Across Herring Gut in a Purple Boat |

Untitled

You’ve gone again

but then I always knew you would

blown away by emptiness

the hollow rattle of it all

the words that never said enough

or never said at all

but fed upon themselves instead

 

now hope has gone the way that all things go

sunny side down

yolk hardened

like the setting sun

and yet for me

you left your mark

 

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Also by Isobel:

The Yeung Sing Hotel | The Stuff of Life |

Bollocks To It

After a long period of writers' block, another comedy piece to tickle.

 

Don't you just bloody hate it

when you see young lads

stood in the street 

with their hands down their pants?
Don't you just want to scream at them
curse them and swear
"Put it down, stupid bugger, it's still fucking there!"
Their Y-fronts look deliciously full for a change
still, yo...

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Pompeii

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Thank you for dying

so dramatically and suddenly.

Our archaeologists and tourists

appreciate it, appreciate

your frescoes and fountains,

brothels and bakeries,

your eerie, grey corpses.

Even Pink Floyd are grateful.

 

Your emperor was no help.

If here, he too

would be a doom-faced corpse

as you are now.

Corpse-town Pompeii,

Vulcan's pla...

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Also by Dave Bradley:

The Invaders | Two candles | Witches |

A SONNET

Hang on a moment.

Did I say sonnet? Sorry,

I meant a haiku.

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MortonArms Live- open mic prize £20- Guest David Costello

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Great poetry and acoustic music night-
 25th April Bank Holiday Monday 8pm!

The Morton Arms pub-
Pasture Lane- The Wirral
CH46 7TQ

Our Guest Poet

Short listed for the Grist poetry prize, soon to be published with such luminaries as Simon Armitage.  Our guest and current Ode Show Poet of the year. 

‘David Costello’

 Our Guest Musicia...

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exit route to nowhere

woodworms came calling,
left a cruel mark on me.
thoughts tumble fast now
through holes i don't see.
woodpeckers woodpeckers
you're just the same,
picking and pecking
at all but my name

chase the bunny down
the tunnel,
and a dead end you will find,
a labyrinth in reflection
of my gnarled and rotten mind.

woodworms, oh, woodworms
each hole is a door
you're boring is...

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Also by Kath Hewitt:

Time-riding | Diplomatic acceptance | Bloodrush | Untitled | a bitter-sweet affair |

searching for the ideal

flood gates closed

burst the dam wall

flow to the sea

 

caged bird

fly to the sky

stretch your wings

 

potted plant

your roots spread

shatter the vase' base

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Toilet Tissues & Seawalls

 

We’re not concrete in a seawall.

People are alive
not cemented together.
We move, sway with the quakes
bend with the wind.
Hold fast.
Until the wave smashes us apart.
Rips our walls
tugs us out to drift.
Wipes its but
washes its hands
and flushes us anew.
We rebuild our seawalls,

prepare to weather the next.

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Happily Ever

Happily ever...
after love,
after a tongue tied Tuesday morning lie,
and butterscotch remembered
on her breast.
After a simple pirate on Cupid seas,
and powdered snow
on her lip.

Happily ever...
after love,
after a bleached bleak loveless November,
and hollow eyes
on her face.

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POETRY FREESTYLE (apr 2011)

i feel so freezing and the winter sun aint compensating, sometimes i feel ive spent my whole life contemplating, i see no changes cos the whole worlds sat debating, its like we're waiting for some sign, while percrastinating, i see the light but i dont feel the warmth, meditating, close my eyes and visualise my pain eminating, manifest a mark of question, investigating, its like the truth just ...

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In one hand

I’d just been to dump some broken panes of glass in a

Neighbours skip when two young lads came strutting toward me.

As they passed one of them snatched the cap off my head

And threw it into the road.

 

They didn’t run, they just carried on bouncing and talking

As if fuck all had happened.

 

When the police came I said the reason I’d reacted

The way I did was ...

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Also by mike watts:

Slave to it. |

The God Particale - Thaum

 

This one is more of a story I guess, a work in progress

 

Time was getting old,

Things had changed from those early days.

When it was just chaos and confusion

Excitement of not knowing what would happen from moment to moment.

 

That was a long time ago though

Now the years where starting to catch up on him,

Age was leading to forgetfulness

When you ...

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Also by ChizzieRascal:

Twisted Corridor Pathways in my Mind | Lost in translation upon a sun kissed shore - Sulina's Maudlin Charm | Home Town |

agephysicsstorytime

Monsters ball

Monsters ball

Monsters ball
Fun for all
Dance to deceit
With a sinister beat

Or chat with the liars
All of whom conspire
Once you turn your back
Alot of friends you will lack

Or go to the table where roulette is played
Where fake smiles and laughs are put on display
It's where you will learn the meaning aof abduction
Once it has stole you it will lead you to destructio...

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'The Big weekend'

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CONFERENCE JUNKIE'S

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Into the carriage

they spill

chuckling too loudly

certificates in hand

bringing with them

all the fun

of the flipchart

 

kpi's on the flipchart

b's and c's on the flipchart

(that's benefits and concerns to the unenlightened)

expectations on the flipchart

flipping their mind's

sending them into overdrive

conference junkies

hooke...

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conference office junkie's md

Trev's USA Tour 2011

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At a reading event I was onsatage encouraging participation

 

08.04.11 - 21)Come up and sign

Put your name on the line

Read your poem if you like

At the Ruta Maya open mic

Compared to the sword, the pen is mighty

This one’s from dear old Blighty

Flew with me all the way

To Austin from the UK


An English pen there could be none finer

But it probably says “made in C...

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Also by Trev the Road Poet::

Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | Trev's USA Tour 2011 | The Cas' Lad | Bad News |

Island

After many a summer time must have a stop:

an emptied stage and canopy hung starless.

Aldous Huxley's dying, Kennedy's been shot

and all the western world is watching Dallas.

 

He tells his wife to tip the boy some dollars

for the oxygen tanks; though his days are spent,

there's an infinite succession of tomorrows

Huxley is attempting to circumvent.

 

A w...

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The Hook

 

THE HOOK

 

Catch the moment before

Jekyll turns to Hyde.

Before the tipsy clown

Becomes the brutal drunk.

Try to read the signs,

The flicker of an eye,

The quiver of a lip.

Beware the tapping toe

Waiting for you to trip.

Walk away before

The next smack in the face

For smiling at a stranger.

Remember the last time

He bathed your b...

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Also by Jacqueline Pemberton:

conjunctivitus | Suffolk sonnet | Suffolk sonnet |

Spitting at Bus Stops

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Graffiti under a bridge: a cock; kev luvs liz.

Bodies half developed, tufts of pubic hair,

and they need to check if their penis is still there.

 

A fast food job to top up their EMA.

Getting away with as little as they can,

taking the fight, on the streets, to the man.

 

A cap on a head, not worn backwards anymore,

an ASBO sewn violently on a sleeve

...

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john togherspitting at bus stops

proboscis audio

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Full recording of 'proboscis' and other bunfly sounds available at 

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bunfly/280018121939






 

Soft crumpled wings of 

Little chamois leather 

Crash the light

Storming brave the shifts of wind
under the weather where you live
under the thunder
where you breathe a little quieter
than us
but get caught tasting laced corsets
t...

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Ohrwurm

 

 

Involuntary musical imagery is invading the space in my brain

On compulsive repeat, musical memes are putting my head under strain

 

Earworm is humming the tune of the day - it’s a song from an old TV show

Not something I’ve heard for about 30 years, it’s the start of Hawaii Five-O

 

In times of high stress, the most pestering chorus is destined to play on re...

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Persecuting Pensioners plc

 Persecuting Pensioners plc

 

Persecuting Pensioners plc:

Our unofficial name, you see –

For actually we find it fun

To persecute most everyone –

But pensioners are best of all:

They think that we must know it all –

Whereas many a younger client might

Retaliate, put up a fight.

 

So many ways to persecute

Those old folk, and increase our loot

...

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after several unnecessary hiccups with them!reallyWith apologies to those of you who work for the 't

"Cheese Burger Kills Space Alien"

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Inspired by an old headline in the Sunday Sport

"Cheese Burger Kills Space Alien"

They came in peace or so they said
Now half their race is stone cold dead
Mcdonalds in town is where the deed was done
"Cheese Burger Kills Space Alien"
Crusading through the galaxy when hunger struck
The little green men couldn't believe their luck
A cheap little burger with a free plastic toy
...

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Change of venue for The Poetry Train

Just a note to all that may be interested that I have changed the venue for The Poetry Train open mic event in Wolverhampton. It will now be held at the Britannia Hotel in Lichfield St Wolverhampton on the last Wednesday of each month. for more info please go to the gig guide. Thanks.

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The Poetry Train Open Mic

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