Poetry Blogs (Jun 2011)

Popular last 30 days



The law of our life:

If you don’t get used to all  you’ll die.

If you don’t die you’ll get used to all.


The picture was really unique.

When I looked at it I felt sick.


One bottle of vodka for a fool

Turns into a rocking stool.


Once in a trap eat your cheese!


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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

I Am the Only One | Congratulations! | Crystal Shoe | The Melody of Love | What Happiness Is | Our Mistakes |


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The place I seek

beside you,cannot be mine

even in a dream.


Your heart floats

far from me

elusive.shadow of a shadow.


Never am I to savour, the rose velvet touch of your hand

the petal softness of your kiss

wintering endlessly are they in slumber.


Your soul

lost to pain,lost to true purpose

shackled to emptiness.




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i loved watching as

baby seals and buoys

bobbed in the bay


fish traders bawling

 cape salmon snoek

and conger eels


 i adored the pace

boats sea quay

the mixture of race




i felt sorry for the maids

forced to live in townships

with broods of kids


without a man around

they dreaded ...

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Also by Philipos:


Ode to a Grecian burn

We're indebted to the Greeks

For exposing  the leaks

In the Eurozone

Could the Parthenon

Once again be

The birthplace of democracy

We'll see

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AthensGreek Mythmoney

King of the Road

Property for sale or rent.

Rooms to let, £400 spent.

No phone, no bath, no pets.

DLA and Incapacity buys

an eight by twelve four bit room.

I am a man of means.

I am a King of the road.

I am king of my world.


Discharged into the community

with impunity,

professional emotional immunity.

I am impressed by my apparent psychological unity.



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Also by Jules Clare:

king of the Road | Y | Where Were You | Chapel Street | Jules on the Radio with The Selector | Free Wheeler | Milk and Alcohol | Care Again | AnD | Astonishment | Hungry Heart | Inconvenienec | Walls | I Have Had A Little Time | I Have Had A little Time | Carry On Regardless | Wherever I lay My Hat | In The Army Now | Everybody's Talking | Psychokiller | Free Fall | Seasons Come, Seasons Go | Red Squirrels | On My Way | Autumn | Patriotic Blues | World Peace | Passing Memories | Remember | Joie De Vivre | Achy Breaky Heart | Late Night Bar | Lingering | Lingering | Barriers | Firing on One Cylinder | Red Squirrels | Once In A Life Time | Fleeting Thoughts | Mental Aid | Respect | Times Are A Changing | Mary Lou | Ash | Anger and Concern | And | All Around Me | A Mid Argyll Winter | A Fresh Start | 28 Days | 28 Days | Astonishment | Snow Is Sad | Mellow Yellow | I Believe | I Do Not Believe | An Island Life | Geordie Shame | A Mid argyll Winter | Map | Whatever I Want | Dissention | Pie and Peas | The End | Milk and Alcohol | Silly Boy | Today | Looking For An Acid Experience Again | Page Turner | Gliding Away | Mighty Mark | The Sign of the Times | The Celtic Warrior | Sixty Five For Free | In The Extreme | Page Turner | Gliding Away | A Driver's View | Congratulations | Words | Really | Hello and Goodbye | Hello from Jules | Barry's Lament | Map | Banners of Hope and Faith | Wonder | Bishop FM | Bishop FM | The End | A Clean Slate | Southern Pride | Milk and Alcohol | Milk and Alcohol | 28 Days | A Mid Argyll Winter | Dissention | Map | A Bloody Disgrace | Pies and Peas | Bad News | Inconvenience | Anger and Concern | County Durham Lady | The Streets of County Durham | Old Durham Town | Old Durham Town | The Wrong Day | Banners of Hope and faith | Wisdom | The Future is Bright | Bank Holiday Blues |


I went to the doctors the other day

Told him my boobs were sore,

I'm sure there's nothing wrong, he said

Have a mammogram just to be sure.


So off I trot to the clinic

When I saw this big machine,


The nurse said strip to the waist

Don't  worry love it's just routine.


She plonked me boob on a cold slab

It really made me shiver

Reminded me ...

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The Glitterball Eunuchs


Window shopping Aphrodite
Leblon’s premier rubber-wear
sandwich and photocopy shop
entranced by Croque Monsieur
done three ways
I could never have known

a Rio slum kid
sticky hare-lip              half cured
grubbed a not wet      not dry card
into my palm


fairylight cobwebbed walls
real linoleum floor
showcases, greets
male/female/other ...

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The Moon

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I look at you with your sombre light
on a pitch dark night
Do you really attract wiches when you are full
and have you had famous men touch your surface.
 Some secrets you hold no one will ever know
as you shine on me with your mysterious gleam and
silently say thats for me to know and you to find out.

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The Moon

Crazy Paving


I paved over my garden
And soon the singing stopped
Lazily I bet my hedges
For no return
Nothing grew
Nothing fell
A few pot plants to create an illusion
Weeding out the wild life
Showing in the cracks
The things that blew in
I swept away
Water ran off
Causing floods down the road

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'The heavy hands of time'

The Heavy Hands of Time 


For youth

The clock rarely has hands


For the middle age

It has hands

That starts to spin

Too fast


And for the old

Time weighs heavy

Like all Burdon


Knowing that

Most of your time

Has now gone


Watching the youth

Wishing too

That your clock

Had no hands

To spin so fast



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growingJohn HarrisonolderpoempoetpoetryTime


Read more …

Do You Dream?


Betwixt a cloying sleepless night
Betwixt the sheets of comforts form
dreams dream a lovers shy embrace
strength secured from cruelest storm.

To stretch and hold in pure delight
within the warmth of dearest dwell,
bathed in sheaves our wordless love,
silence broken, cannot be quelled.
Wouldst thou love me for evermore
dost thou believe, immortal soul,
in heav...

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She totters as she trots across the street

On spindly, thin-shin shanks that

Could not dance a dodgy, rocky foxtrot.

This would-be vamp is hobbled

In her shaky, rakish steps

That wobble cock-eyed, knock-kneed,

In her lust for shoe-supremacy.

This dainty demoiselle is held

To be no stately, graceful gazelle

But gawky like a new-born, gauche giraffe

And yet...

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Also by C Richard Miles:

After the Summer Fayre | Sporting Success in spite of Rain | Send in the Clowns | Technology! | I have never been to Newbiggin | Haikus from the 1st Test England v Sri Lanka 2011 |


The Tall Green Grass

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The wild colt enjoyed

galloping through

the tall green grass.


One day he was captured

and made a beast of

burden. He worked in the

field and pulled the wagon,

but he longed for

the tall green grass.


He grew old and weak,

one day he lay down

and closed his eyes.

When he opened...

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Also by Shirley Smothers:

My Mother's Gentle Hands | The Price of Freedom-(extended version) | The Price of Freedom |


A Royal Society member shouldn't be cooped up unduly.

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I'm renowned in the village, the region, the World

for something impressive, once it's been unfurled

a commending citation it fills me with pride

a sound reputation as long as is wide

true clear recognition, a plaudit so fine

as others seem poultry when measured by mine

I've grown it, I've shown it, I've reared it by hand

been invited to take it all over the la...

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

Beautiful girls with no hair... | Ilumination | Lost | Psst...big bum | Right and Wrong |


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stops me in my tracks

too many times

'protects' me

from risk-taking

paints the whole picture

of potential calamity

then plays it back to me

in surround sound

 nicam stereo





has o.c.d. as its default setting

tells me constantly

to check

and check again

before taking any ...

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If? hopeless feelings down depression

Transient times

entry picture

Transient Times


Rain drops splash on my bed of leaves

the sun is pale and gives no heat.

As I slowly rise on aching bones

blackbird cries that im not alone.

People passing try not to see

they can’t afford the sympathy.

I wake from dreams of better days

to face another day lost in the haze

I have a secret that no one knows

I bury it deep but the pres...

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tramp vagrant homeless messiah transient times rhy


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I’ve got a brand new business plan,

A craze that will endure;

I’ve based it on that fish-tank thing -

That women’s pedicure;

And my idea is similar

The blokes will love for sure;

It still involves a tank of fish;

I call it Penicure.

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Also by John Coopey:

Piggies | Rattus Lavatorius | Nights in Prestatyn |


If Lewis Carroll Used Spellcheck

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“Tea’s grilling, and the sloth’s toes

Did gear and gamble with their wage.

All misty were the biographers,

And the mime rats outrage.”


If Lewis Carroll used Spellcheck,

There wouldn’t be a ‘double Dutch’.

He’d have more literary respect.

He’s just so out-of-touch!


The worst thing is he’s a success!

Had he been typing with his feet?

From what I...

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I hope you didn't see me leave,

and that you're not aware I've gone.

I hope I meant much less to you

than your presence meant to me.

Your pseudo intellectual rants

were scathing, shallow and flawed.

With feeling and enthusiasm

I tried to feed your thoughts,

but your responses made me a fool,

and so I was, to care for you.

Hence your four hundred and seven...

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Also by Alison Smiles:

Optimism | Tough old boots | First the eggs | A difficult age |

glastonbury musings

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pop stars were skinny

cheesecloth and loons all the rage

in my hippy day


now they are podgy

where are all the handsome ones?

thank god I'm past it!

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

feather, wood and bone | lap of luxury | the sea by night | last time | watching paint | chocolate shoes | waterperry |

double haikutongue in cheek

The Club Was Caribbean

a flashing view in the washroom mirror

who the hell is that

a plain jane in a neat grey suit

no edges

no lustre

no – LUST

oh my god  it’s me


Lips flame rouged

Shaded lids in saucy shadows

To her breast a crimson rose

And dancing heels with red silk lining

Swaying lithely to silent melody

Tingling with desire to dance

Twirling swirling scarlet skirt


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Let me dance |


-as yet untitled-

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outside the window,

an ocean of poppies,

red like denial.


she watched them day-in-day-out,

from sunset to the first shards of sunlight

which crept through their stems

and reflected the underside of their petals.

from this she saw veins, a tiny network of

lines like join-up-the-dots,

a motorway map

thin like emotion.


dadd went to war ...

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childrenfamilypoempoetpoetrysoldierswarworld war 2world war two

kiss me with your mouth

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You talk to me and tell me that love makes the world

That from dust,

Man and woman go forth sharing ribs

And Lie in Holy Union, with gold rings on their fingers

A symbol.

That Solomon was pleased,

And sang  in the rapture of our bodies

And that God himself is blessed by my sex,

Offered on silver platters with fine fruits and juices

 for dancing and sweatin...

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Song of SolomonThe Bible

Neglect in the community

NB, I risk your opprobrium by posting reportage rather than poetry. I just feel the need to do so. The following happened on Friday.


Jenny’s only been in the nursing home for a week, out of place at a young-looking 66.

She hates it, yet would hate even more being sent home, back to her life of passive neglect at the hands of uncaring ‘care’ staff who whizz in and out as if afraid ...

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Wimborne Road

Sorry for Leap Frogging here, this is the second draft so I had to remove the old one. Big thank you to Alan Morrison. This is a response to his last entry. Thank - You. x


 Wimborne Road



             I ran along such a road once,

The Wimborne Road the track - a point to point

Racecourse jockeys use to please a crowd,

            The bets, illegal and legal ...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

I Forgive, But Something..............Else, Doesn't! May It Never Find You (I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy). | Killing Down the Planetarium | Facades feat. Noetic-fret | Pawn of Insignificance | Daubed Clock of an Architect |

urban living

Shameless Plug


Please excuse my shameless plug for my first poetry book! From Beginning To End is self-published via Lulu.com.

If anyone is interested, or just wants a nosy, click the following link :


 Kath x

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Also by Kath Hewitt:

Daddys girl | No title | Blue-Eyes | Blameless | My affliction | Untitled |

My First Solo Recital

On Thursday I gave my first solo recital.  You can read all about it here: http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/2011/06/24/newsflash-riot-at-poetry-gig/#comment-11735

It's thanks to Write Out Loud: when I asked the woman who invited me how she had heard of me, she said, 'The poet's website'.  This is the only poet's website I'm on.

Thanks, WOL!

It was a great experience, but no...

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...and another one

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...with Angela Smith and Jane Steele on Sun 3 July - Wild, also on gig guide!

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Also by Emma Decent:

Gigs! |

I am of the Street

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[Dedicated to Mike Robinson, poet & philosopher]

"I am of the street", said he,
excusing what he thought to be
his uncouth background's
strain of dark vulgarity.
"Vulgar" was the term he
(over)used, esteeming his fine
self to be devoid of lakeside
views and tender music's
much-refining me-defining
ever-shining undersea.
Why does he believe the street
should always be...

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Also by Alan Morrison:

Winter Romance | If | Anger Mismanagement | Baggage Class [sonnet] | The Turning Coat |

White Wedding

White Wedding

in the dark all she had was the light of promiscuity
a freedom , her body released from society's hold
the penetration made her feel wanted
loved in a way she chose
grubby hands violently tore at her
she perversely wanted more each time

never being made to love again
to conform to ancient laws
made by cynics and legalised rapists
for better or worse
in sickness and in health
the hypocritica...

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Experimental Podiatry in 9 1/2 Weeks

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Of all the joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks onto mine…


He read me like a Mills & Boon

thought he knew my heart’s desire

swept me off my corny feet

set curled up toes on fire


For him podiatry was challenge

experimental, avant guarde

ejaculatory pedi-torture

hammered toes blown fast and hard


He innovated long and often


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Also by Isobel:

Warning | Shoes, Feet and all things Podiatric |



Call this a suicide note if you will

More a transormation, as I lay still

Like a mass-cull for Vegans, when Ewe've turned to-Mutton

Too-desperate to be selective, too-soon forgotten


I envisage my Poetry, as an Ode to Toilet Doors

Cubicles rowed, like there's an-order, sticking to the floors

The Piano no-longer stops playing, now I meerly glance-through windows


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Also by Meriel Malone:


The old mans fable

Do not consider me frail, do not consider me weak

Although I may walk at the speed of a snail and find the inclines rather steep

Do not consider me past it, do not consider me fractious

For I have lived for many a year but that does not make me not belong here

For my heart still beats and I can still move my feet, just not as fast as you

So think twice when you give me your ...

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I believe I'm an atheist

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This morning, God finally

Put on his hat, and said

'Right - that's it.

If you don't believe in me,

then I don't believe in you


So there.

- and don’t go asking me

for any more favours!'

Bang went the door

and I heard Marlene's dog 

bark as he passed the gate

It's all gone quiet

But I'm worried now that

he's not really gone


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Also by John Embley:

Nowt nor Summat? - That is the Question | On finding a tiny hole in my shoe ... |



               I write in rhymes to make hard times seem easier defined,

as a chorus of growth and empowerment.


You see all thoughts become relevant,

in opposition to benevolent ways.

Far behind me are my self destructive days, that phase.

Our existence is melodic. A gift.

Still upon it,

we place expectations and material needs,

all this...

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Also by Amy McCawley:

To start to end | Scars | Just us | A Home. | Born to greatness. |

daggers drawn

God is out of it

watching isms and schisms centre stage

there in the spotlight

taking precedence


protestant god at it

catholic god at it

fanning fires of  division

papal infallibility questioned

new paths charted


lessons of love abandoned

gods of petrol bombs worshipped

gods of missiles praised

that is the essence


fighting to...

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Also by jabulani mzinyathi:

in reverse gear |


Why is it that we think
That we have to try and be
The person that somebody else
Wants us to be?
And why is it that we strive
To perform for everyone around
To get them to admire
The plays that we contrive?
Why do we pile the pressure on
And drive ourselves so hard?
To please and impress
Until the real us is gone?
And why is it t...

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Also by Steven Kenny:

I'm Alright |

lost in translation

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I had a moment today

strange and wonderful

a little like déjà vu

a wisp

then blown away


and in this moment

all was clear

I felt

all the future

all the past

the universe outside my door


and somehow it all just felt right

like I knew something

we all know

but fail to acknowledge


something we trade for

normality and...

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Also by Banksy:

the sand man | Mackerel sky | earthworks | mind games | erring | My Furry Godmother... | yesterday | the end of the past | Zen stoned | See You Next Tuesday |

I took my chest of drawers to Mull

Someone took a grandfather clock

for a ride in a convertible Morris Minor.

I thought ,

How considerate!

My furniture doesn’t get out much.

So I took my chest of drawers ,

in a Vauxhall Zafira,

to the Isle of Mull –

a truly magical place.

We drove across the uplands,

where eagles spiral effortlessly

into moody clouds.

I felt inspired.

I took it...

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Also by Dave Carr:

Every cloud |


The bubbles are coursing through my veins,

speeding to my empty


Leaving me floaty, yet inert

and rendering my mouth

dry and thirsty.


I am toasting you.

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Also by Alanna Rice:

Eleanor | Freedom Fighter | Stunned |

Heart Canvass


Silly scribbles...

Ah, but when celebs rape trees

and The Sun has page three

your futility has meaning.


You played dot to dot with my heart

before we even knew the full picture.

We were children then

and now we stand – as adults – amazed.


Drawing on the canvass we've created

my palate is wet with streaming dreams...

trickling into consci...

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Also by Ushiku Crisafulli:

The Spectrum | Nutty Squirrel | Funny Onion | Bisexual Poem |

Love Art Sketching Doodling Romance

Guest Poet Pete Crompton- £20 open mic prize- it could be you!


'The Poetry Spoke'

Great poetry and acoustic music night-

Tomorrow night-  8pm!

La Gondola 
22a Liscard Crescent
WallaseyThe Wirral
CH44 1AE   (a stones throw over the mersey from Liverpool)

Our Guest Poet

WOL regular
He's a compare without comparison,
            He's a performa...

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Baby Jade

 You made a woman of me.

With your little tiny little body growing inside of me.

A tiny foetus that turned into an embryo.

When I first felt you kick I knew I’d never let you go.

The result of a conception made in love.

You had the excitement of a puppy and the grace of a dove.

So small on that screen all bouncing around

When I first saw your scan my feet didn’t touc...

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appreciating lifedeathlosing a childlossmiscarriagepain

Isle of Arran Writing Retreat

Was due to go to a writing retreat on the Isle of Arran but now can’t make it. Would anyone like my place? Lovely house, wonderful writers and workshops, 2 - 9 July, £120. Please email me at mail@flapjackpress.co.uk if interested or spread the word if you can. Thank you:-)

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Also by Brink:

Anthems and Album Tracks by Dermot Glennon - OUT NOW! |

Remember Not ...


Sharp and sudden, the cruel slash of searing pain
begins to fade yet forms the deepest scar.
Smouldering gut wrenching embers burn mouth dry
and storms torrential ashen eyes
for a love that lasts and lingers long.
And when there is time to remember
what used to and may yet still be
think only of the beauty that was had
not loves tragic mournful loss
but only of summer da...

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Also by Steven Dark:

Helen |

love lost

Sweet Dreams

Sweet Dreams

In my last slumber
My soul cast a dream
In which my lost love
Reappeared to me
Clearing out the storm
Manipulating my heart

Her lips lush as life
The overcast cleared
As our eyes met
And hope
that this was real
Soon withered the distance
Away; We ran
To fufill our tethered dreams
We made love
Amongst the sun-soaked Lillies
And Forget-Me-Not's

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Sweet Dreams Love Poem Poetry

Ring of Roses



Crisp within her vase

Dead red roses on display

Fragile in the light


Lack of sickly scent

Seeing beauty in decay

Brittleness deflects


Look but do not touch

Your fingers are forbidden

Petals turn to dust


Floral deviance

Delighting in senescence

Ring of rosy death




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Also by Laura Taylor:

Wine, Tears and Consolation |



Imagined hurts and upsets.

But why?

"Terribly angry and betrayed"

But why?


Because you're a leading lady, an artiste,

A show off attention seeker,

Because this time, you weren't up front,

No longer the main Diva.


We're so very very sorry

You weren't with us to list your achievments,

With your boasts that suffocate

And bragging which strang...

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Also by Manda Lee:

TRAPPED | Play On |

Soapbox Poetics

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Into itself, beyond vast darkness, remote lights beckon our tomorrow.






Into a new dark age
we go, marching,
careening headlong


[of soapbox poetry
there is no want
for many a voice
loudly rail and rant]


the terrain of our
condition and that
of our experience
has changed over
year upon year of
progress that has brought
us ...

Read more …

dark ageskesnerkessnersoapboxsocial commentarytomorrow

Gigs this week and beyond...

Hi all,
Here are my poetry gigs for this week and a couple for the week after....
Sunday 19th June
Theatre Royal Stratford East Bar
Gerry Raffles Square
London E15 1BN
Hosted by Kat Francois
Gig starts: 8pm
Free Entry
Monday 20th Jun...

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Also by Alain English:

Latest Poetry and Speaking Appearances |

The Care Pathway For The Dying Phase

There's a phrase to give us pause -

it's what you're on, it's where you're ending.

I've read so in your case notes

while your daughter was attempting

to colour in the silence

with progress of the garden

and accomplishments of children.

An undulating pathway, to be sure;

these buttons and levers at the side

of your bed will help you to adjust.

All that's l...

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boko-maru haiku

Sole to sole. Blissful

Our feet and eyes touch in love

Soul to soul. Blissful.


Warning – this poem contains “foma”



For 40 years I've been fascinated by CAT'S CRADLE, a novel by Kurt Vonnegut. Even though I disagree with his main conclusion it is immensely provocative (and amusing). In Cat's Cradle, the supreme act of worsh...

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Also by Dave Bradley:

Sox appeal | ESCAPE. Result | Escape. Last chance to vote. | Paths | Escape. Time to Vote |


Why do I love her?

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her smile
her laugh
her smell
her choice of sandals
(magnificently explained to me)
her curves
her warmth
her bike
her walk plans
her hairstyle
(could be cut shorter - but hey.....)
her clothes

but her politics and opinions -

take em or leave em.

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wife love her sandals


The window waved

to a silence:


swallowing time


Wanderlust eats stars

Takes abandonment home for tea.

Remembers when The

Golden Girls had

their silver hue.

Knows what to do

when you don't


She can even magic eye,

and fingerknits belonging on the bus.


Bubble gum girl

happily sits still and thinks


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Also by Emma McCourty:

Old Glitter and Flipflops |

500 yards


I side step


Dog shit

A syringe

A wounded tampon

From some

Dirty minge

A crushed can

On somebody’s bonnet

Pigeons pecking

Takeaway vomit

A pizza box

With a scabby slice

White droppings

Of maggoty rice

Rolls of carpet

A silver telly

Bulging bin bags

Split and smelly

Ugly cars with

Foreign plates

Tax dis...

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Naughty Digits!

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I have never been one

To slowly and lowly

Dip my toe in the flow

Of life.


Rather I`ve leapt

Feet first in a burst

Of passion not to ration

My enthusiasm


Walk a straight line?

Well no, what a bore!

Throw me a curve and I`ll swerve

Off track.


I have no control

Over lower digits which fidget

To land me and strand me

In t...

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The Wind and the Water Kiss.


It cups my chin, and if it could give,

it gives -

a white smoothing porcelain, to tether, bitter on my lips,

fast into the air, pulling on my coat;

a dance, a positioning of feet,

and an embrace that, true to form,


and leaves me so unsure.


Hurried, the part of the lake

that I am, is held back, and yet cautious,

and lonely still...

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Leaving Belfast

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Leaving Belfast


Leaving Belfast

I remember you in Bookfinders

On university road

As you pulled out

One book to look at

And the full shelf

Collapsed on you.


It shames me now

I remember more

About your Scott Walker LPs

Scattered all over the floor

In a huge circle

Which you would

Constantly play

Over and over

If you were ...

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Also by Andy N:

Summer is Here |


Standing in the 'lost child light'

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Woodland breathes all around

People move dance and sway

I stand in the lost child light.

Friends approach

‘Hey you ok?’

‘Yes’ I say

Just standing

All the while

In the lost child light.

Blessings be upon you,

 Suffer the little children . . .


The woodland ages slower than I

And grows stronger than I

Holds me close comforted be...

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Competing With Yesterday

Lost equals through three decades,

Chance meeting kindles

Our competitive flame,

Winning me over again.

So you think.


But this is my game…


Now I toy, I tease,

I play,

If I please.

You’re all mine,  

So you say.


But I’m not yours.


I’ve triumphantly grown-up;

The guileless girl now hidden away.

Now, capriciously sure ...

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Andromeda When they chained you to your post, did you think of duty then, stripped of your dignity like spring lambs sheared of their wool for the first time. No. You did not. You fought with all the weapons of a woman; you loosed your tongue and cried your tears but still they betrayed you. They tied your hands with callous chains and pressed their shallow guilt againt your naked...

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The poster and the peanut


Stood bedazzled in the museum bathroom was Peter Pickle, a fine art appreciater from Leicestershire, a short, scrawny, spectacled gent, with 5 o'clock shadow and an above average sized nose. He wasn't particularly bad looking, though at this very moment he looked quite bizarre, stood at the urinal, one hand flailing the last few droplets from his member, the other moving his glasses back ...

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Also by Joseph Kennedy:

The honest prayer |

fascinationnarrationnew yorkseizure

Manchester Morning

Manchester Morning

And in the distance

A watery sun

Climbs ponderously

Above the Pennines.


Manchester Morning

Railway stations buzz

As iPods arrive

Accompanied by

Their sleeping owners.


Manchester Morning

Shops slowly open

With early temptings

Of frothy coffee

And warming bagels.


Manchester Morning

Trams clank che...

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"We Reap What We Sow" - Japans Tsunami and the Fukushima Nuclear Disaster 2011

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"We Reap What We Sow" - Japans Tsunami and the Fukushima Nuclear Disaster 2011

The recent nuclear disaster in Fukushima, Japan in the wake of the recent earthquakes and tsunami shows what folly man has to think that he can contain forever and in all eventualities the power of nuclear energy.

No one thought of the force of a tsunami wave breaking the cooling system on the nuclear pow...

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Alter Ego!

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Alter Ego!

He swims like a fish or is that a brick

He’s running amok & its making me sick.

He fights like a lion & sting like a bee

He  play’s like a cat & barks up the wrong tree.

He’s confused dot com & a CD rom

He’s in regression & back on the Somme.

He’s throwing a party & putting his back out of joint

He  could dance like John Travolta but don...

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Also by Brian Wood:

I Just Want A Job! |


Listening to mansun
As commuter faces
Swirl around me

Waiting for a bus
At kings cross
As the stream passes me

Cute girls
Short skirts
Black tights
Taunt me with

I am invisible
Long Grey hair
And beard
Street drinker chic

I don't care
I don't want them
To want me

I like the margins
The Borders
The edge

90s me w...

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Also by Martin Togher:

My Birthday | Shared Garden |

Keeping The Scent Of Insignificance From The Door

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The apple scent throws me back to my childhood

picking apples from the family tree

in a grandparent’s garden with a sister.

Her up the ladder; me, holding it steady.


My gaze follows the upward flow

of her arched white socks as she balances,

straining to reach higher.

I see straight up her skirt, up to her cotton-white

knickers and the smooth dark creases th...

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Song for an unborn child (I never)


I never

saw you come into the world,

or pee into the midwife's eye,

or have your arse smacked merrily

to bring your first breath on, or cry,

or dry your tears, or hide my own,

or feel protective rage come on

when careless strangers crossed your path

in infancy, in innocence;

I never felt the urge to kill, for you;


..saw if your life was colour...

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Beneath her Contemptuous Gaze

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Somewhere underfoot beneath her contemptuous gaze

Grinding and crushing

Blood rushing to her head

Misting bloody red

Wine and roses lay scattered

Dreams and schemes splattered

Left then right spinning into the vicious plight awaiting

Cold, colder yet as cruellest roaring sea

Light her slender form struck out at me

Red pretty toenails sharp as razors pledge th...

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The Lost Bodies Of Last Year's Summer

Shaleskin, beachfeet

T shirt and clean sand.

An open sky clearing

The purest of air.


Sunlight brim through

The clot of the public.

An expected scent

Of wave slush on feathers.


A calm atmosphere

Like the after party

Of a massacre

Bird grin, human laughter.


Rock salt perfume

Grooming landscape

Shades claim nothing of this d...

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Also by Kealan Coady:

Words That Sigh |



What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive man?

A rumour.


I married the King of all idiots as summer erupted all dripping green

and hated the insensitive bastard, especially the bit at the base of his penis.


He was a lawn mower - hard to get started, emitted noxious fumes and didn't work

half the time.

He used to whistle when sitti...

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Also by Rodney Wood:



Awhile ago I was watching tv, knights of the round table and such. The following day as I was

driving this idea was going round in my head , later when Id stopped I started to write down some

lines, I just intended for it to be a poem or even a song of a few verses. The problem then started

that the more I wrote the more idea's came, so what started out as a standard piece has now


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OxFringe comes to Town

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Laura is greatly looking forward to her OxFringe gig on 22nd June with her splendid fellow performers Project Adorno and Philip Jeays upstairs at the Copa bar in George Street, Oxford, showtime 9.30pm. Please do come if you can - you won't regret it! 

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OxfordOxfringe 2011Philip JeayspoetryProject AdornoThe Poet Laura-eate

Prayer Text




U awake? We’ve had some

problems say prayers will u

with your account I feel


so bad can you make it

We’ve just added your Come

4 lunch See u I just don’t


kno how tonite I’m going to

say prayers will u running

ok to carry on Hang in there


I don’t even kno U awake?

how to pray Still don’t kno

can you find ou...

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There is a Tavern

Upon the hill

A quiet lair, set pencilled

Against the setting sun


The gently eager wind

Rustles hushed whispers

Through the penitent trees

They wait


As pendulum clocks

Eyes feasting on every flicker

Black lace, crystal clicks

Swooping tantalisingly low


Feel the sheathes of their scythe


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Love in the f/b era

unheard n invisible, 
condemned w/ no chance to defend,
innards ripped out, 
broken w/out a second thought. 

but none of it matters.
you're worth the pain.

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Trev's USA Tour 2011

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This is it Appalachia here I come.


22.04.11 – 79) Day break and I’m on my way

To a great American byway

Waterfalls said to be like fountains

Now I’m driving along the Blue Ridge Mountains

Opened in 1935 a vision for beauty to come alive

To enable people to go asunder

To see first hand natures wonder

Looking down at what can be seen

Trees in the valleys all shades of...

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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 |

Dark Words


There, inbetween words, are dark words:

non-words that whisper.

Sonar sounds

pulsating messages.

Still small voice of calm

to roars’ raging.

Listen now,

inside, between the corpusles,

behind your eyes,

the dark words speak.

Listen more closely this time.

If only you could be still enough,

if only you could be quiet enough:

switch off the...

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Hymn both Ancient and Modern

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Written on June 1st 2011 as an assignment based on the Calendar, set by John Cassidy for Bank Street Writers, Bolton.


O God of Sun, on Sunnandaeg,

I worship thee with spray -on bronze,

Because thy workload is quite big,

There’ll be a lot of wet week-ends.


God of the Moon, on Monandaeg,

I offer thee my hangover,

Last night I was a lunatic,

Oh I am deep...

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Speed Cameras

There’s a limit of thirty miles per hour,

And so the word goes round.

A speed camera has arrived in the road,

Don’t be the one to get found.


Man has one eye on the yellow box,

His Ford passes at twenty-nine,

Other eye is on his speedometer,

This careless driver escapes a fine.


Paying careful attention to the road,

Saab owner goes by at thirty-two.


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Babies first words.

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Daughter’s first word was Coke
Her second was mummy
And when we saw all was good they branded her
With a barcode
So that when she finally stood up
It would be easier to pay for the goods
Stick your arm under the lazer love, wait your turn don’t push or shove
be consumed.
Even when I’m down
I buy a happy meal
After all who doesn’t want to be happy
I heard they twea...

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