Poetry Blogs (Sep 2011)
I conceived you
over many many years.
you slowly arose,beautifully unfolding
the guardian spirit of my heart
together we have arrived.
(by Patricia Wilde)
Friday 30th September 2011 9:53 pm
I wondered why that set
Of Mediterranean sky
Was domed between these whirls of weather we get,
Why, through the jibs
Of the low oaks, the sun-shafts
Kept digging me in the ribs,
Why I could feel
The shock of spring seas bursting against a far coast
Vibrant under my heel –
The sudden toil
Of all kinds of coming-alive thi...
Friday 30th September 2011 9:13 pm
stone dragons guard these
soy sauce sprinkled streets
a broken mirror shattered
into many tiny parts kindling
kaleidoscopic images of art
dustbins are the treasure
trove of rats growing
large on gratis asian foods
as flickering neon-lights are
beckoning the up town mob
rich eastern sauce drips
down the wheely-bin
mixed with human ...
Friday 30th September 2011 4:41 pm
Also by Philipos:LEIBFRAUMILCH. | CHERRY BLOSSOM. | SPEECHLESS. | THE NECROPOLIS. | TOWNSHIPS. | WEBSITE. | JOHN DOE. | REPTILIAN. | REMINISCENCE. |
Friday 30th September 2011 4:36 pm
painting by Evamarie Juniper Bittleston
“Blues come after slavery cause blues got a life right here to sing about, real life not just in lost Africa or in the sky after we die; See the brothers say when we was in Africa blue was our favorite color but when we took that trip blue got bent then what it meant was something we lost something that made us sad (you blue Jim) or something beautifu...
Friday 30th September 2011 4:02 pm
Friday 30th September 2011 3:20 pm
Also by Alain English:La Chunga Review | Shakespeare Authorship Question in advance of the film "Anonymous" | RRRANTS Gig on 2nd October |
Maria Dzumaga is dying.
Her stubborn chin has softened
and her cumbersome teeth will no more fly
across dining room tables,
when people who should know better
protest the removal of plates and utensils
before their meal is eaten.
She has ceased to leap from flights
of stairs and first floor windows
in order to annihilate her feet.
Friday 30th September 2011 3:04 pm
...in the Red Cross poetry comp. My poem will appear in their pamphlet, one of twelve. Great news on my birthday :)
Friday 30th September 2011 2:41 pm
Driving home in the falling dusk, another day has already passed, she is constrained by plastic and steel, her visions are obscured by windows tinted against the world and in the following of her road home she feels the drowning tide of traffic flow systems, they steal her breath, leave her buffeted and gasping in their changing currents. Around the traffic island shoals of cars swim, dodging a...
Friday 30th September 2011 1:13 pm
the only way to burst a balloon
that the gases inside it
add a little helium
and that little bit of plastic
once i put my name
and address on a tag
cos as a child i was delighted
a stranger might find it
and write to me.
the balloon burst somewhere
like a hopeful bubble
and i thought
of the address tag lying i...
Friday 30th September 2011 10:52 am
of an absent spider
wet with dew
a million diamonds
in the morning sunshine
Friday 30th September 2011 10:23 am
Also by Lynn Dye:Catch 22 | Anniversary | Crimson Lipstick | Teardrops in my Coffee | Consumerism | New Bed | Amber Moon | Pension Crisis | The Cuddle Chair | Between A Rock And A Hard Place |
Fear, expresses no emotion.
It neither wraps itself
In cotton anger, or
It lives in the deepest part;
Of your dream.
Taking up room -
Where the life-force should be.
This living ghost,
It does not chew it's food,
It devours it.
No table is enough to
Satisfy it's cravings.
When every opportunity feeds
Thursday 29th September 2011 11:06 pm
Every generation has its own hard men
who rule the block, kick the new kids ass’s.
Who rule every bar, don’t take no for an answer,
are not to be messed with and demand respect.
They use the weapons of their trade, knives,
brass knuckles, guns, bats and more.
Take them away and their fists are a back up,
sure fire way of defence, offence.
Thursday 29th September 2011 3:17 pm
Also by NICK ARMBRISTER:CRANE FLIES | LOVE IS DEAD | STACKER DRIVER | GIRL | MESSAGE BODY | SCOTLAND | WOULD YOU TRUST A COMPUTER? | small press link poem publisher, send your work... | MY LITTLE COLD WAR | TIME WILL TELL… | VEGA | HIKE | TRAPPED | my FREE poem book download is here if you want it | GHOST DANCERS | NUMB | INTO HELL | LANDSCAPE OF TEARS | ORBIT | GOYA | FUCK UP FAIRY | TEAR | BOULDER | ARABOTH | ROCK GIG | GREY BLACK NIGHT | AGY poem | SHARLEEN COME TO ME LOL | POEM i read at blouse gig, not a tit insight lol | DID IT HURT LOL | DARK TOWER poem | HI TEK WAR poem | WAR, PEACE poem | WAR poem | SHEFFIELD GAL poem | advanced warplane poem | ALIENS poem | MEN AND MACHINES AND GIRLS POEM | TAT poem | hmmm is this about me... |
The soulful plea of mange puss
mews for tickles, prawn tails.
A waste bin of delight
feeds brown eyes,
fat dog eats chicken
lickity lipped, wagged.
String led, old dog eats rice.
The bbq's boys smile,
mango bright, asks,
"I cook for you today?"
There are always new friends.
Most four legged.
No shade today,
Thursday 29th September 2011 12:49 pm
for ripen time,
and reach further up
than ill-timed bloom;
plow back injustice-
feed the fields-
a greater harvest
than a snatched
fruition ever yields.
Words and foto T.Carroll
Thursday 29th September 2011 11:05 am
Also by Tommy Carroll:Cooking for Infidels | D Minor |
Born into slaving penury and then cowed
pigs they died for the Tsar in battle.
All led to slaughter- while at home
they starved to death in the towns
anonymous as their birth.
You offered them hope
an end to the toil of war,
you offered them dreams,
a printing press of promises
Peace, Bread and Land.
The proletariat would inherit the earth
Thursday 29th September 2011 6:27 am
Cool enough to produce no guilt But hot enough for my pleasure Bit by bit I find my way Another little treasure. Even though the size is small It will take large boots to fill My important little trio With decent measures of controlled thrill.
Thursday 29th September 2011 12:55 am
Wednesday 28th September 2011 10:23 pm
It’s finally stopped raining
and I really want to play out.
Roger (from down the street)
came round to see if I could come out,
but Mum told him no.
Mum said “It’ll be time for his tea soon.”
But when she closed the door,
I heard her telling the dog
that Roger’s not the sort of boy
that she wants me to play with.
Apparently he’s either got nits
Wednesday 28th September 2011 5:39 pm
A home-made tattoo wrapped up in a scroll
(not of honey and milk, but indian ink)
saw 50 summers, but winters no more.
A cooling board smoothes away pain.
An epithet formerly scrawled upon walls;
a roughly-inked alias on a right wrist
provided the title required to assist in
identification of you.
I will search for your words in your final abode...
Wednesday 28th September 2011 1:28 pm
Seasons turn but I don't care
people come and go
bright blue skies and golden leaves
won't heal broken souls
People and leaves fall and rise
up against the time
missing those we loved so much
we all long to die
Wednesday 28th September 2011 12:13 pm
Fortune of Tears
It is so harsh,
Cuts like the thinnest sliver of glass,
Meandering easily straight towards
Where melancholy has been my life-long past;
An attrition of war with no real place to go even though,
They say wounds are to heal with time,
The scab on ...
Tuesday 27th September 2011 9:55 pm
I am struggling in a country that dumps on its pensioners
And its war heroes, that pisses on the pillows of the low paid
The defenceless and the disabled. I am born to a country
That allows the wealthy to gorge on the misery of the poor,
Allowing those in power to lie and cheat and steal with breathtaking
Arrogance over and over again. I pay taxes in a country where im...
Tuesday 27th September 2011 7:22 pm
Also by mike watts:The referral | Packing up | Scorching. |
Several thousand years of built up force
It takes to make a mountain.
The popular friction of time
Surging forward on all sides.
Pushing mass upwards toward the sky.
As if freedom exists in this form.
As if the earth, wants.
Tuesday 27th September 2011 5:46 pm
Also by Kealan Coady:The Plan Of Nature | I Made The Earth Uncomfortable With My Hammer | Now And Then | Infants Become Skeletons | Look Back | Everything I Am Not And More | Ever After | Euphrasia | The Censored Sky Of The City | In The Fizz Of Winter | Meanwhile | Blank |
1786, saw the first of many unfortunates being transported to a penal colony in Australia.
Among those convicted was a nineteen-year-old Cornish girl found guilty of highway robbery; an offence that we would call mugging to day.
Quite a lot of well placed eminent people, who touched some part of her life.(All independent of each other and not in collusion,) could not ignore ...
Monday 26th September 2011 12:55 pm
Also by Thomas McDonald:The late Darwin’s Theory on Relativity | Mahdi Gras | Empty Rooms at mine and Mabels | up a gum tree | Schnell Shock | So it has been Written | Scnell Shock |
Time is going fast,
I wonder if it will last,
At least today we had a laugh,
Sunday 25th September 2011 10:37 pm
Also by ChizzieRascal:Replacing Santa | She Stood thin and very Straight | Unfortunately the title has had to be Censored | The Dead like to Party 3 |
The Secret Place
Merging with shadows
...in he creeps
pushes aside heavy black velvet
slouches on his stools purple brocade seat
wrought iron legs
over varnish stripped floor
flick a switch
he is.... all lit up
leap out at him
the bare bones
a husk of who he really is
Sunday 25th September 2011 9:14 pm
All was black outside the inn
As night winds howled in pain
And rattled at the chimney pots
And whistled through the grate
Inside the inn all shut up tight
The fire had burned down low
And huddled by the candlelight
A few lost souls had yet to go
The night was foul, rain beat down
The wind lifted the eaves
It was a long walk into town
Sunday 25th September 2011 12:10 pm
Also by Neil West:Hearts of Darkness |
Autumn is always brushed
Under the carpet
Like a half-baked afterthought
Before the winter arrives
With its blanket
Of snow rolled blues.
At the beginning of Autumn
There is a hesitation
In the breeze
Before the clouds
Darken the sky
And poison us slowly
With mustard gas.
There is a sadness
In the half c...
Sunday 25th September 2011 10:36 am
Also by Andy N:The End of Summer (II) |
I want to find my barefoot self
has she been waiting all this time
here in St Ives?
A little girl, I saw the beatniks on the pier
was mesmerised, left something there –
my raggetty-black-jumpered self
playing a guitar.
At Troika studio, pocket money spent –
something from the seconds shelf.
And a ceramic pendant, orange like the sun
Sunday 25th September 2011 8:18 am
Also by Ann Foxglove:owl | drift reservoir | peace | earth | remember the st ives festival 10th-24th september |
I present you with a bouquet.
You can do anything with it,
Even to sweep the Soho street.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
24th of September, 2011
Saturday 24th September 2011 10:34 pm
Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:There is no sense... | A Sad Clown | In the Wood | President's Speech | Two Destinies, Two Hearts, Two Souls | Do You Believe Me? | TENDERNESS | Only In September Night... |
BTW - I don't like to crow (!!) but I hope you'll all remember - when the latest experiments at Cern (and as reported on the news these last two nights) confirm - that the speed of light has been exceeded & that E=mc2 has been shown to be (if not erroneous) at least not the end of the story... That you heard it first on WOL from Banksy - in my (humble, ahem) poem "Old Father Time" that, well,...
Saturday 24th September 2011 8:40 pm
Also by Banksy:mon petit shoe | shock n' aw | Gold | Armagh | Bukkake | Ms Spindrift |
I have noticed John, my neighbour’s apples
Bobbing on the branches in the wind; grown suddenly heavy
And tinted rouge, in a green vista down his orchard,
Across the garden, outside my window.
Their leaves, these apple-trees,
Now crisping sere with morning frost,
Conspired all summer; transformed showers to juice
Pips, stalks and sucrose, and there they are, now...
Saturday 24th September 2011 12:29 pm
The snow falls, all is white there is silence.. In the depth of darkness there is silence... In the shadows behind us there is silence... Mouth opens, no words there was silence.. The ear cannot hear for there is silence. A crying child in the distance for no one knows of its persistence, then there was silence... The calming of silence echo's words in my ear 'relax my dear for silence surroun...
Saturday 24th September 2011 9:09 am
Also by Lesley Whittaker:MY YELLOW ROSE.... | THE FEELING OF BEING LOST..... | THE RAINBOW..... |
Friday 23rd September 2011 8:11 am
feels unreal, really
it really does feel unreal.
Feels unreally real.
Thursday 22nd September 2011 7:24 am
Also by Dave Bradley:Communion |
How can I sit here ignoring you?
You pull and pull and pull at my sinews
If I keep still for long enough will you go away?
If I answer you will you return tomorrow?
You pull at me to be noticed, you cannot scream,
I see you, you cannot see me. You are blind
I feel you but you can not know I’m here
Eyeless and dumb you know nothing of me
You don’t know ...
Wednesday 21st September 2011 8:45 pm
Also by Peter Asher:Hares | The Poetry Exhibition. | Leicester New Walk Gallery 2008 | Two abstract poems. |
Low she bends upon her knee
Through the sea,
And the waves obey.
Wide she flings her arms to flare
Upon the air,
And the winds obey.
Upon her toes stretched ever higher
She plucks clouds
From sunset fire,
And the flam...
Wednesday 21st September 2011 1:02 pm
My sin hangs Him back on the cross,
And the traitor of Heaven clings to me.
I swallowed a little poison out or pleasure,
And my soul towards Him staggers to reach Him.
I let my soul stroll in filth and dirt,
And have carried the mud with me shrouded.
I look like a toad croaking from the ditch,
And I see Him invisibly looking at me,
And He shows His distorted countena...
Tuesday 20th September 2011 3:28 pm
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
I try to be human,
laugh as they laugh,
and be a part
of their life,
but my life
has been unlived
for a very long time.
And I forget
to be human.
I don’t feel.
my mind a wheel
spinning and spinning
until the late
hours of night,
where sleep steals me away,
and then I awake,
And I forget.
My life rem...
Tuesday 20th September 2011 1:21 am
These travelling shoes
walk without weary wonder
they drift past
into tangential horizons
and that is where
this wandering soul
goes off to, willing
and remembered only
by fleeted echoes
of short-memoried soles.
Please make your response or comment on my profile page. Thank you.
Monday 19th September 2011 2:44 pm
The following is a
very silly poem
There was a girl named Shirley
whose hair was short and curly.
She never wanted to go anywhere
she hated her short curly hair.
Her mom would say, "Let's
go to the park."
Shirley would say
"Not until after dark."
There came a man
with a silly son...
Sunday 18th September 2011 4:35 pm
Also by Shirley Smothers:Online Poetry book | Gray Earth |
You could be a Russian ballerina with high heels
With high kicks of steel
A sumo wrestler with flabby muscles
Who slaps and wrestles you until you cant resist
Or a bitchy pretty young blond who seals your knockout with a kiss
Or even a karate guy with a Mohawk or a quif
Who smokes a spliff as he stands over your broken body
Oddly enough you can be a...
Saturday 17th September 2011 7:44 am
(Forgive the repetition of an earlier blog but I felt the need to offer respect and condolences to those in grief at Gleision in an industry I worked in for 20 years.)
As choking we emerged to sight, each blinking in the morning light
Not thinking that we ever might have seen the sun again;
By the pit gates loved ones waited, praying to their God that fate would
Hand us ba...
Friday 16th September 2011 11:32 pm
Also by John Coopey:Liposuction | Poetry Slam | A Wonderful Opportunity |
‘Was your ex’s dick bigger than this?’
holding up my large battered sausage to her.
‘How big do you think that is?’
‘9 inches,’ I approximated.
‘Well yeah, as big, but it was fatter than that.
He said it was
nine and half long and
I nodded and laughed
I think I was crying.
Thursday 15th September 2011 3:46 pm
Also by David Mac:One Bum To Another | The Agony of the Flame |
Lest we forget
What do we wan’t,
Why do we want it,
When did we lose it,
Why did we come here,
Where are we going,
Are we there yet,
Who said we’d lost it,
When did we have it,
What was it for anyhow,
Where are we going,
Whos going with me,
Is there any point now.
What did I want,
When did it matter,
Thursday 15th September 2011 10:43 am
This is the trailer for Captain of the Rant's Basement Sedition - a series of spoken word and poetry events eevery Friday in October. The line ups are absoloutely fantastic - sixteen brilliant performances over four events in the cosy venue of the Railroad Cafe. Check it out.
Thursday 15th September 2011 9:13 am
Thursday 15th September 2011 1:32 am
Also by Marianne Daniels:A Morning Ritual | The Death of a Tree | Convalescent |
Wednesday 14th September 2011 12:24 am
Also by Dave Dunn:Nine Eleven - Version 2 | Harry Stottal |