Poetry Blogs (May 2011)

Popular last 30 days

Jules Speaks from Graceland

Lord Almighty

my temperature is rising.


It is burning through my soul.

I don’t know which way to go.



I might turn into smoke.


The flames are licking my body.

I am slipping away.


I have quit my job at the car wash

after finding a picture of you.


I am back on the Chain Gang.

Circumstances beyond my control.



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Also by Jules Clare:

Love for each other | Red Squirrels | Sanity | Psychiatrically Astute | Love on The Rocks | Happiness | Learning to Fly to Lucas | Balls to It | Hello Harold | Seagulls | Tina | Careless Whisper | I Beg Your Pardon | Banners of Hope and Faith | An Evening Bus Ride | 3,4,5,6 | Loneliness | The Airport Lounge | Tulips and Daffodils | World Geography | May Day | Frozen Out | Grounded | A Plane Alphabet | Elvis Talks To Me | Brush Your Hurt | Oh Dear! | Charge Me | Ward Round Again | Ward Round Again | Self Discharged | The Missing Link | Nobody Knows | Magnifique Madam | What A Day! | Sorted | Your Heart | Home and Away | Spreading The Word | With This Book | Facial Hair | Forgetfullness | The Fifth Dimension | Lamplight 23.5.2011 | Scratch Tees | Working Classs Hero | It Must Be Evil | Wretches | Wretches | You Are My light | Turtle Doves | Thank You | Thank You | Ten Green Bottles | Poems from Jules | So Strong | Seize the day | Residence | Residence | It Started With A kiss | Old Friends | Old Friends | Nothing Compares To You | Rematch | Poetry | Precious | Prolific | Prospecting for Glee | Worry | Keep On Moving | Glasses | Everything Has Changed | Everything has Changed | Desire For Hire | The Wedding | A Year of Verse | Pulp | May Flowers | Wear Valley Writers | Python | Love and Hate | A Diamond | My Dog | February Fables | Scotland Bonnie Scotland by The Shores of Loch Lomond | Drinking | Dream On | Cliff | Bus Stations | Bus Stations | A Day At The Races | A Diamond | Jules Returns from Dunoon |



steeped in myth and clergy rich an

affluent cathedral town medieval

buildings housing abundant souvenir

shops enough to satisfy those ardent

cosmopolitan tourist types


one family group arrive picking a

path through student ridden and

gallic-speaking throngs – homeless

alcoholic men abound including one

shadowed by an un leashed hound


a ...

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Also by Philipos:


Only a Sparrow [sonnet]

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Does familiarity breed contempt?
Comparatively so, I have to fear.
Comme d'habitude will crumble dream cement
and with a film of blindness it will smear
fool's eyes. How easily we lose our joy
at seeing something close before our face;
our sense of wonder it will soon destroy
and sink surprise's seedlings without trace.
Look in the tree! "It's only a sparrow",
intoned a weary ...

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Also by Alan Morrison:

Orgasm (a sonnet) | Attitude | The Cuckoo's Strut | Escape Artist | Snow in May | I See no Ship! |

Trev's USA Tour 2011

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Written at a rest stop on the way to Memphis, I liked the radio station and was inspired to write the poem.


18.04.11 - 73) I was on my way down the interstate highway

Driving with care then heard coming over the air

One of many in this nation a Christian radio station

Listening without fears, at times moved to tears

Then after another mile, I would again smile

Driving on my ...

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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 | 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 | 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 | 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 |




My crime was being born

For which they punish me for

Yet it is the one thing

I cannot feel guilty about

It could not be my fault

Being born was not my choice

 I obviously was not here

When that choice was made

Yet they punish you for it

Just like everything else

That they do

We are punished

For their crimes and sins

We carry ...

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B safe 1st alwayschild abuseJohn HarrisonLiferpoempoetpoetry

Beloved Friends

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Midst the hiss

The pissed

The dist

Of a couple list of lips

The heart still yurns for one so dear

The tender kissed twixt trists of bliss


Find your path you sacred two

The one that is the true but true


Lest your thoughts of angst enlist

The memories of moments kissed


Of passions high

Of thoughts so shy

Too tender to be spoken


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Morton Arms Live- £20 Cash Prize- Guest Poet Steve Regan!


Great poetry and acoustic music night-

Tonight 8pm!

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

Our Guest Poet

Nobody does Bitter Sweet poetry as well
WOL Wiganer, The Journalistic King of Hull! THE New Brighton Bard! 
‘Steve Regan’

 Our Guest Musician  

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Walking away

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I sat and watched you walk away

long after you had gone

aware of all the distance since

you decided to move on

I followed you till out of sight

the course you had to take

the reasons were so clear to me

your will was less opaque

and so the worthy part of me

was severed, cleaved away

but in a moment rationale

conquered hope that day

if I shou...

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

The Lonely House | Hubris |

Another Luimneach [ˈl̪imʲɨnʲəx] Ephen Stephen

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I've not got a brother named Stephen,

He's under the snow crisp and ephen;

Like Wenceslas, he's dead;

I chopped off his daft head,

Cos he was too bloody bohemian!

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My Love

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I will gather breeze in my palms,

I will hold the wind in my arms,

I will pick you up on my wings,

I will get you free of bitter things.


All my tenderness will be an ocean,

I will show you all my devotion,

I will smooth out your old wounds,

You will hear new beautiful tunes.


I will make you feel drunk,

I will make you find your spunk,

I ...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Today Is My Birthday | An Advice | I Will Escape From You | Where To Escape? | Haiku | Escape |


Me and her

We were two drunks together,

And we were terrible-

Like a dog gone mental.

And when it kicked-off -

We we’re like a thousand wasps
In a swarm of fury,
Like a hot and hungry
Pissed-off jury.


And then we’d just fall asleep:

Wake up to the TV blaring,

Sick and struggling -


Like a depressed mother,

A junkie brother,

Like a rejected s...

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rebel in the boneyard

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I’m a rebel in the boneyard

I don’t give up

I scream and cry

and strut my stuff

I wear tight jeans

I don’t sleep nights

I’m a rebel in the boneyard

feelin alright


I’m a rebel in the boneyard

and that’s good news

don’t know if it’s drugs

don’t know if it’s booze

or bipolar disorder

that brings on the blues

I’m a rebel in the bon...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

midnight | from a distance | fascinators | on lundy | watering mother | cable laying |


Wembley Woes

courtly choreography

of football ballet

Barcelona teasing

Man United wheezing

English energy


by Spanish skill






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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Worshipper of the Moon | the great fallacy | escape |



the feral words

revert to type

as they hit the page



and with a stroke

of the return key

they’re set free

to roam at will

the big bad world



and now

they’ll have to fend

for themselves -

my children flown.

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Also by Banksy:

on the razzle | the birth of the night time | screen-saver | Pammy | slebs | lucky escape | seconds away |

Gigs this Week

Tuesday 31st May
Needle and Thread
Half Moon Pub
10 Half Moon Lane
Herne Hill
London SE24 9HU
Gig starts: 8:30
Entry is free
Friday 3rd June
Poetry Cafe
22 Betterton Place

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Also by Alain English:

The Crucifixion and Resurrection of John Higgins | The Legend of Annie Inglis |

Lonely Hill

Death-blooms rest upon loam
as shifting zephyrs whisper requiem.
Grieving thunderheads split,
unfolding obscurity and
saddening the horizon.
The velveteen succor of night
abandons without regret
and i am left alone to resent the day.

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Also by Kath Hewitt:

Untitled | Hourglass | Crying out | Farewell | (untitled) | Sunset | Stronghold lost | (untitled) | Deep rooted | Amnesia haze |



Over the edge
Like the hot heroine on a piece of foil
Like a fox with Jack Russells down into it's hole
In a corner
Like there's a price on my head 
With hellhounds' eyes dark in the distance behind
Like I'm running from the Legion with a gun 
Like a court poet

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Houdini Song

Spitting it out in the hope of releasing
unlocking the cage stifling my growth
burning it all selfishly brightly
and the feeling is back again
pounding my head again
to just let go

Spewing it out with the aim of escaping
fleeing this habitual and too perfect a world
shedding the handcuffs worn in contentment
and the aching is back again
haunting my thoughts again
to just get out

Dreaming it up in the hope ...

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Hi folks, some food for thought here. Press the link and take a look what's happening. There is no shame in admitting that you didn't know or understand how dire things have become on this globe. Most of us have never really known the full extent of the figures for years, but, let's hope we can as a collective shout, or write, just that little bit louder, so those in authority will know that we...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Think Twice | The Skip Let Something In | The Last Chance of Honesty | Mistrust (Many The Gulf Veteran) | The Hearts Quill | The Light of the Sapphire | Escape |



Every morning
while you sleep in my arms,
I try to avoid
looking at the dawn
been struck from the skies
like candles blown out
one by one.

Every morning
I try to avoid
looking at the dawn
while you sleep in my arms,
and the breeze
dances across the other side
of your spluttered curtains.

But every morning
I lie hidden beneath your hair
on the edge of ou...

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The Cynic

The cynic's narrative is familiar,

the familiar disdainful script slips easily

off the acid tongue which lurks

behind the curled lip.

The familiar bored tone,

The familiar raised eyebrow and tired contemptuous amusement,

the familiar unspoken conspiracy of superiority,

the familiar stale charm and shallow cheer,

the familiarity of 2011's world spirit.



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Also by Dave Bradley:

Atoms get around | Free will | We | Escape. Prize Competition |

I am the black belt zombie

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i am a black belt 

i leave blood wherever i go

its not for the right reasons

its for reasons you don't know

i leave behind a trail of destruction and gore

guts and entrails and broken bones

people treat me with disdain

so i eat up their brains

and leave their bodies behind me

or in their own homes


stick and stones never hurt me

only removing my ...

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Also by Daniel Hooks:

the telephone box and second sight | twilight of the Idols | what the world says |

A Matter Of Thermodynamics

A stammer of clarity.

What a world

To fathom

And all it's cronies

In stylish clothing.


The last wish

To become alone

All at once.

Fuel for the tomb.

Assume a future.


But how does now happen?

What is the reason

For this existence

To mean something?


To go back and forget it

All over again

Is a dream to kill



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Also by Kealan Coady:

Remember The Tension. | Thought Mutation | You Think Your The Only Lonely Person On This Fuckedforsaken Planet | Populous | Modern Imperfections Two | A Corpse Is Not A Sandwhich And Other Ramblings. |

Untold story

Read me a story that's never been told,

show me a lover who'll never grow old.

Bring me flowers that outlive the hours,

touch me with rain from enchanted showers.

Find me a fountain whose silvery spray

falls onto faces then trickles away,

gentle as dew on an infant's first morning,

warm as a rose on which tears are falling.

Stroke my cold cheek with fingers that ...

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Also by Alison Smiles:

World Affairs | Escape |


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(A Journey of Nostalgia)


I journeyed but once from the old Hucknall Central,

A station now gone on the GCR line;

Its imprint on memory, though, quite monumental

Made mystically precious by passage of time.


The floors and the stairways so basically timbered;

They echoed our footsteps; we ran without stop;

We carried Ian Allans with sequences numbered


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Also by John Coopey:

Manchester United 0 Barcelona 2 | Janis | Sobibor | The Big Issue | Nuts |

ode to a egg



 o egg

           what is

            you am?

             all white

   and yellow

           --- like a

          banana --

        or a egg,

       come to





(From my Fruity period -- sorry, I'm in daft mode for my grandson....)

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Also by John Embley:

Fruits of the Narrow Seam | Prejudiced or What? | Bored .... |


  Jasmine and I lay in the flowerbed

amongst the buds about to bloom.

We moved delicately,
crushing shoot
pressing seed.
Enticing attention of the ranger.

Flesh was ripped by teeth and thorns.
Pain was no dam
no issue.

I tasted Jasmine,
pricked her.
Allowed scent to fill senses.

Only Jasmine grew in that bed.

© James Butler 2011

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Wishing For Rain


Now with added audio (felt better read).


Wishing For Rain


She spent that week,

Wishing for rain.


Every morning that




Reaching towards her.


But a dry week

Of flat-packs

And quick pick-me-ups

From a garden sale,

Hid the hate.

An attempt to resuscitate

The happy days of swing

Seats, and...

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Also by Hayden:

Rinse Cycle | New Days Nostalgia | Nap Nap |


So near,so far

I will feel

your unseen hand



to your heartbeats echoes



this distance between us is only a sigh,


if only it could be warmer

than this  torment.

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State of mind‏

Blown in with the dust
Then gone in the wind
My journey just finished
Then it starts over again
The road stretches as far
as i can see
There's always somewhere
where i'd rather be
Is not you or i
or even them
Its the state of my mind
when i write a poem

The road seems call
Call out my name
Pack my bag and I
hitch the US ofA
I wonder I sing I laugh and I smile

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Also by Ian Devine:

You Go There (song) |


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My book-shelves are filled

with  campaign medals

from battles with 

an inadequate education.

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

Did you brush it from your hair? |


It's dark here.
I sit alone,
Naked and abandoned.
Cast in my own company.

The black looms closer,
I can't see my hand,
Can't feel my face.
Lost in my own disgrace.

I scream
Until my lungs are raw.
The sound reflects back
A cry only I can hear

Where are you?
When I need you,
To chase away my fear?
It's dark here. 

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Haven't put anything on here due to exams but I will try my very best to, very busy revising at the moment though, sorry

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Limerick for the Goverment

High unemployment, no jobs to be found,

There simply aren’t enough to go round.

So raise the retirement age,

Keep the young from a wage,

And run poor old folk into the ground.

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Also by Lynn Dye:

Dreamland | Escape |

Femme Fatale

The barman nodded knowingly, she smiled and said “Bonsoir”

She moulded to a barstool and he brought her café noir.

Her scarlet beret matched the lipstick rosebud on her cup,

I sat beside her, caught her eye then winked and said “Ey up”

I said “hello love, what’s your name” She answered “Femme fatale”

I asked “Well, how’s it going lass?” she shrugged and said “Pas mal”


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Also by Dave Carr:

It's a King Thing |



Pictures of you at the ocean
and when I saw them
They made me think your in love.
I can’t hate you for it,
You deserve a warm body to hold on to
As much as you deserve Paris in the springtime.
I wish you butterflies and dirty dreams
And kisses in the fall.

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Gone Gray

Soft rain falls down,
echo of tears
I can no longer cry.
My heart is broken.
My soul is drifting
across the beauty
of an acoustic guitar,
and lyrics beg to sweep me away.
But I’m here.
I’m here,
holding my heart,
and worrying,
worrying about the future
that may come.
Will my dreams give me light again?
Will hope take my hand?
The music plays on,
and rain falls ...

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If I never lie with you

I will never lie to you,

to the casual observer I appear to look through you;

I wear bad luck as baggage

and drink as a badge

I curse every move of that bastard called time

that put beauty in his path

and duty

in mine.


No alabaster

comes close to your skin,

no imperfection can wrench anything

from the butterfly ...

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WOL Photo Galleries Editor/Curator

WOL site needs a new photo galleries curator/ editor. 

Anyone interested should contact Julian Jordan.


Thank You 


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The bluebells, he cries, are a slide made of sky

lying over the hill where I'd like to decline

his interrogation fired ad infinitum

until all the eggs have been counted and eaten.

The Question- Master demands instant answers

and a database big as The Bible.

The family might call it repartee -

for me it's a matter of survival.


Dandelions can be yellow or whi...

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The riot of spring

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   Into the riot of the spring

sirens are calling my soul

what the hell is wrong with me?

I feel like I'm a thousand years old


But I've just been a boy

who started a million fires

went down on his knees and then prayed

to catch another glimpse of your face


That day you were wearing a skirt

the day you made my knees shake

all that distant time


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I am the one you kick cans at as you pass me in the street.

I am the one with the dirty hair and the scruffy clothes.

I am the one you cower from and snarl at as you pass my feet.

I am the one you pretend you can’t hear or blatantly ignore as I mutter ‘Spare change please’.


I was like you once I had a home, a family a smile. Now I have my dog.

I fought for the country ...

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Also by Paulyn Lloyd:

Don't Quit | My words |

army dayscoldfearobliviontramp

For Frankie if I lose you

It's been so long I'd forgotten.
"Ups and downs" can hardly describe
The abyss that greets each lacklustre word,
The endless self-analysis,
The whining and whinging that only serve
To push you still further toward indifference.

My fantasies have crashed headlong,
Breaking on the spindle point
As hope skids eternal back and forth,
Each up, each down, a mountain peak

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Nation in a State - free download

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Hi, I have just revised my collection 'Nation in a State' to include author's notes and some of my early work. It is available from www.lulu.com as a free download. If anyone has time to have a look I'd love to know what you think.

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memory box

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pulling forward

the dusty

cardboard memory box

from it's hidey hole

beneath pressure deadened springs

the metal framework hangs low

scratching the surface

I carefully lift them out

and tears begin to well


they stare at me

unaffected by time

from stages in life





then there are no more



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memories photos box

Me mam

She came to me last night

Walking towards me

Dressed in her flowery skirt

And her blue sequined top

She looked calm and serene

Reflective even

Smiling at me purposefuly

Her brown eyes twinkling

I ran towards her

I put my arms around her

I wanted to feel her

I longed to smell her

Just to touch her


Then she was gone

I looked

I star...

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Ungainly placed, on a chequered board, sits

a chameleon.

It yawns, gluey lungful adolescence.

Each eye hurries, confuses syntax,

keeps clumsy fashions,

knocks over everything.


I wake up to this - a breakfast table debacle;

agitations over toast, milk smirking sick,

eggs peeled, juice, primary decisions,

and that gaze again, somewhat spurious.


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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Escape |

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At the corner of the Croft

is a Basket of Light

This is where songlines weave up 

through pavement cracks



This is where, not so long ago, 

breeze blew over poppies in wheat and cows in clover

on Stokes Farm



skateboarders wheel round pecked out buildings

and boots stamp burnt foil into the tarmac

of Stokes Croft


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The Big Issue

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Read more …

New poem: Hollow Hymns

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This is our final destination:

No Man's Land terminal,

terminating at the end of the lane Cain paved.

This is place is an airport slowly murdering us with boredom

with nothing but dim, echoed muzak

and our haggard,

baggy-eyed reflection in shop windows for company.


This is where we roam:

for anything to hunt and gather

on these barren litter-beaten st...

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captain of the ranthomepoetrypsychogeographySpoken Word poetry

Show more entries …

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