Poetry Blogs (Jan 2012)
Let the chips fall,
We're cutting down a tree.
But only to build a bridge
made of electricity.
It's connecting you and me,
to a future we can't see.
Que sera, sera,
What will be will be.
The light that shines inside us
is directing you to me.
Fate is in auto-pilot and it flies in stealth
the beauty of surrender
is a new abundant wealth.
To hell with always asking why
Tuesday 31st January 2012 8:00 pm
Also by Ushiku Crisafulli:Lover's Limbo | Blood Mage |
Alone does not hurt or brutalise
Alone does not drink beer and sing
Alone does not leave socks on the floor
Alone does not make me overdrawn
Alone does not run the risk of something broken
Alone does not make promises
Alone does not make me weep
Alone does not tell me what to think
Alone does not think it's all ok
Alone does not keep score
Alone sound alr...
Tuesday 31st January 2012 7:54 pm
Also by kayberley:Untitled as yet! | Gnomic love affairs |
Tuesday 31st January 2012 5:37 pm
Also by Dave Dunn:Call Out | Wait For The Flag To Unfurl | One Planet, One People | Wish To Enthrall |
Electric fence nnnnnnnnzhnnnzhnnnnnnzhnnnn
Spar ks ks ks
Water dripping pp dri pp pp
The room entire:
Then the sparks sto p
A bucket for the dri pping
Tuesday 31st January 2012 2:39 pm
Also by Kealan Coady:The Colour Transition | Sound Translations Two | Mostly Concrete | Afraid As The Past | Sound Translations | Ir | Bobby Sands Wonderhouse Of Invisible Strength | 100,000 Years From Civillization | Microbes, looking | Once The Earth Lay Down | Loopworm | Qualm 2 | Qualm | Love On Pearl Harbour Night | Bill Burroughs Cut Up Reality |
I don’t know when it started
When food became an issue
I remember how life was
I was diagnosed as dyslexic
After my Mum sent me for a private test
Although the School didn’t want to accept it
They didn’t want to help
Budget issues, staffing and resources
Excuses, excuses, excuses
My Mum fought their disbelief
Craving the help and guidance I needed
I heard ju...
Tuesday 31st January 2012 2:13 pm
A Time For Snowdrops.
The snow spoke words of winter and it sang of passing time,
The mundane and the mystic of the sullen and sublime,
It whispered untold wonders and it shouted stunted verse,
It bade the time of brilliance and it welcomed in the curse.
We walked with youthful pleasure as we stumbled into age,
We prattled out our simple lines upon a wondrous...
Tuesday 31st January 2012 1:34 pm
Also by Ian Gant:Ragged Beauty | Eyes On A Winter Page | The Seven Deadliest And All That | IMPISH | DANCING | THIS YEAR OF GRACE |
Somewhere, the 9 till 5 office worker stops me with a deadpan stare,
Fixes me with the times of timetables passed, the graph paper squares
Of tomorrow’s schedule. The high-rise offices never bother to look down.
I never liked the city.
Never really cared
for the city’s callousness, its daily suicide,
the shadow at the top of each building that watches with certainty.
Tuesday 31st January 2012 9:14 am
In a room full of people pissed up and more
She caught his eye over the sticky, fag ash floor
She looked pretty; young in her face not her clothes
She swore blind to him she were eighteen years old
Had a date of birth memorised if he cared to delve
‘Cause she’d been out on the lash
Since the day she turned twelve
And just six months later she h...
Tuesday 31st January 2012 1:36 am
Grey of hair
He would sit
With the slow guest
The un- perspicuous
In his tiny kitchen.
In the aftermath of war
Of remnant explosives
He had come into possession
Of some hand grenades.
To eat of more fish
Than a mere net
Tuesday 31st January 2012 12:08 am
So that ye may not be the martyred slaves of time,
that you may be as boundless as a young man in his prime,
that you may be at one with nature beautifully sublime.
Make the world your ashtray, and never stand in line.
There are so many mere mortals and a certain little few
are full of ego-lead authority telling you what to do
and acting on a big idea that isn't qu...
Monday 30th January 2012 11:23 pm
He chewed the word
like week old gum
its mountainous peaks and troughs
a wiped clean credit card
poked a plastic shark fin
from the crocodile bubbled wallet
gaping in his palm
he was just confused
but he needed
a long word
to picture the beach
one that drew out the blade
from his dead friend
through the pebbles
one to navigate the dot dot
Pollock spots chasing dark swirls across his spray ...
Monday 30th January 2012 11:00 pm
Does it help to be dead before you are read...
In your sodden grave with the sod overhead?
Is eternity the place to be
Before the world says that's for me?
Will it help fame to find your rhyme
If you're hauled to your tomb before your time?
In death to strike a deathless pose
While a newly-wise world admires your prose.
If that's the way i...
Monday 30th January 2012 10:44 pm
Also by M.C. Newberry:MY MOTHER | MEMORY | PASSING BY | MY LONDON | SYMPATHY FOR A BROTHER-IN-LAW (and others!) | LIVE ON! | THE DEATH OF AN ELDER SISTER | POETRY AND SONG LYRICS | IS THAT YOU? | SOME POLITICIANS | TREES | CROSSED LINES |
a smear on my screen
secretly opening up a door
to the unknown universe
that you now inhabit.
I feel astray and distant
from a future,
My remembrances of us are
so unlike the motionless
image flickering on my screen:
from perfection to a man
living in the delicate body of
Monday 30th January 2012 10:42 pm
Upon leaving the army
the country gained
one more scrounger.
Swapping medals for disability
bullets for cuts.
Monday 30th January 2012 4:18 pm
Also by Chris Co:What's the good | Proper TV | ThePoetry Spoke Open Mic January- Guests Joy France- Dave Gilbey | Yesterdays Post |
What is hiding inside your cupboard? Out sight and mind, forgotten about. Could there be a stolen stash of cash from a bank job that was never recovered? Or an antique Webbley pistol from World War One? Worth three grand. Maybe a small enchanted gold necklace lurks there which belonged to a real witch. Does she miss it? An old piece of paper with a faded love poem wrote in purple ink...
Monday 30th January 2012 3:49 pm
Also by NICK ARMBRISTER:ICE FLY | STRIKE | KIA | NAV | CITY UNDER THE SEA | DEEPER THAN ASHES | CLUB DIKHED | CRAP TOWN | SENT | TRUE | BANK OF IDIOT | GOTHIC STORM | DICKHEAD (mild swearing lol) | YOUR FAMILY AND I | MINI METRO – CHEVROLET MATIZ | CRYSTAL SHIP | £10 POEM | CHANCE | BACK O' PUB | MISSING |
I find It hard to stretch my mind, I would question the motives of a saint. Nice. Instinct runs through blood, or so I'm told. I worry about my brother, My blood is pure, Just cold.
Monday 30th January 2012 1:48 pm
Electorate, looking out
was not what he saw.
He saw the Great apathetic.
Waves of passion crest in pubs
never reaching the ballot box,
falling far too short to give voice.
present a point of view, then:
run and hide from those who could help.
He doesn't care, just as long
as there is enough apathy,
to keep him seated.
Monday 30th January 2012 12:33 pm
There was a man who lived in city. He lived in a small room three floors up from the street and frequently felt very lonely. Now when I mention the city I won't say which one, as this might be misleading. It would prove less confusing to say which city it wasn't rather than which it was. For instance if I said it was London you might conjure a picture in your mind, perhaps of a man sat in a sma...
Sunday 29th January 2012 10:44 pm
For finding a nail the shoe was fixed.
For gaining a shoe the horse was available.
For having a horse the rider was on stage.
For involvement of the rider the battle was won.
For winning the battle the kingdom was gained.
And all because of the horseshoe nail.
Sunday 29th January 2012 9:36 pm
Also by Dave Bradley:This will do | Birthday with a zero | User Guide |
(I owe the redress)
For the past millennium astride the clouds of time
Has stood the pride of Selby, iconic and sublime.
Older than York’s Minster, than that of Salisbury too,
Inspired by Benedict of France, and built by Abbot Hugh.
A house of joy and worship where choirs of children sing
But boasting royal heritage as birthplace of a king.
Sunday 29th January 2012 9:30 pm
Also by John Coopey:Selby - "My Least Favourite Things" | Kranp | Mistress Rachel | Clitoris | Tontine | Walford | Father and Son |
I bought it
Should I leave it here?
It is stuck
In your guts.
Your lifeblood seeping
Onto the cold,
You lie, eviscerated, gurgling.
Helpless as a newborn.
I don't hate you.
I don't even know you.
Or your mum.
Your brothers and sisters
Sunday 29th January 2012 8:17 pm
Imprisoned thoughts dribble down my face
while forming patterns damply drowning
like the long-awaited swollenness of
babyfaceless not so darling gentle
crowning from the queen of hearts
Ice-olated stalactites sung low
with unappreciated bluntful
breasts of blinkered glory on the edge of
trueless stories told by heartless mothers
frantic to absolve their blame
Sunday 29th January 2012 8:00 pm
Also by Alan Morrison:Broken Beauty |
Tippler toilets down the yard, pitch black.
ripped up newspapers down the drain.
not even a candle on cold winter nights.
Constipation cured when the cat runs in
and the rat runs out.
just scream and shout
when you pull up your kecks
and scamper out !
Sunday 29th January 2012 6:07 pm
Also by Mike Hilton:The Golden Vision | Quarry Man | DON'T LET THEM FEED OFF YOU | NEVER LOST, EASILY FOUND | FEOTAL DISTRESS | JUST DO IT ! | NO BLUE PETER BADGE FOR A CHEAP COLLAR |
My angriest and most topical album ever....Available from http://www.attilathestockbroker.com/merch.html
Loads of gigs happening soon....
Sunday 29th January 2012 5:45 pm
The only things that matter in life
Are time, and suffering, says my friend Maisie,
Herself a philospoher, with two degrees,
One in philosophy, so she should know.
And time is fascinating, she says; odd choice of word,
Personally, I used to have no time for time,
It passed me by like a river flowing round a stone,
Until I got my new clock; new to me, that is
Sunday 29th January 2012 4:56 pm
Also by STEVE RUDD:A Dog's Life |
They all crash and burn
One by one
Like black doves
In flames, little dots over Normandy
Scraping through clay skies.
In each dream
A real man.
The black and white
sharpens up the contrasts
Of their edges
But Now they
And flick fast past my eyes
Until in technicolour
There is no grey
Just hues of the...
Sunday 29th January 2012 1:05 pm
One day, a butterfly
And settled on my knee
Can't you see
That I am Free
Free to fly
Into the Sky ................
Sunday 29th January 2012 11:49 am
Poem 136 of 230: LANCASHIRE SUNG SIMPLY
(TUNE - IN THE KEY OF F MAJOR:
D2 A2 Bb2 A2
D2 A2 Bb2 A2 G2 F2 F3
D2 A2 Bb2 A2
D2 A2 Bb2 A2 G2 F2 F3)
Cut by rivers/met by sea;
Patched by farmland,
Mills and other industry.
With your linkslands by the sea -
Rough left wild/
Greens and fairways clipped neatly.
With your Pennine boundary;
Steeped in hist...
Saturday 28th January 2012 7:03 pm
Also by David Franks: Walkabouts Verse:In a Small Pot (Chants from Walkabouts - 14) | Lingolf (Chants from Walkabouts - 15) | Windermere (Chants from Walkabouts - 16) | Tees to Tyne: first impressions (Chants from Walkabouts - 17) |
Blinding bright the winter light
strikes out against the chill
reviving life and spirit
as perched up atop the hill
it reaches through the laden clouds
strikes all who lay below
warms, restores, promotes, implores
instils a rosy glow
the visits though infrequent treats
remind us of the force
sustaining through truncated days
as the season wends ...
Saturday 28th January 2012 6:24 pm
Also by Christopher Dawson:Cupid and Psyche |
Renee Scoble's cat
used to be quite fat
once sat on the mat
sometimes chased a rat
now she's just got flat
and...that's the end of that!
Saturday 28th January 2012 5:51 pm
Also by Ann Foxglove:dead daffodils | missing mum |
Friday 27th January 2012 11:21 pm
Also by Tommy Carroll:Don't cry: Etta James | Wandering expositions |
Though quite a Europhile, I'll willingly admit
One thing the single currency just cannot do
Though, sadly, truth to tell, the self-same problems sit
Within the British monetary system, too.
I was a coin-collector, as a geeky kid;
I scoured for specie in my pockets from loose change
Which in those times so many of us children did
Though numismatic hobbies nowada...
Friday 27th January 2012 10:01 pm
Also by C Richard Miles:Aurora |
On the street where we lived,a general merchant had his goods-yard,,where he stowed his wares,this yard held a very large shire horse which was fed on a regular basis by all the residents, local and not so local,the merchant also kept an extremely beutiful rooster, its feathers were of many colours,it also sported a large red comb, it was a magnificent bird, when the merchant opened his yard i...
Friday 27th January 2012 7:56 pm
Also by oldlancsman:"Snippets"from "Oldlancsmans"Diary. Part three. | "Snippets" From "Oldlancsmans" Diary. Part Two. | Snippets from "Oldlancsmans" Diary.Part One, | Was this visitor "Peg " O " The well ?. | SUNRISE | A TRIBUTE TO IAN,MY NEPHEW. | Clogs & Shawles |
According to Ivan Illich
the siren of one ambulance
can destroy Samaritan attitudes
in a whole Chilean town.
He was a passenger and knew
next to nothing of cars except
sit tight and hold on around corners.
Saturday was his Sabbath
and the pool-hall was his temple
until a swerve to miss a mangy dog
sent his algebra flying at angles;
he felt the...
Friday 27th January 2012 9:22 am
All over the top of the ghetto
To the nearby river
Almost as a replacement
For the fresh air
That sneaked in from
The outskirts of Warsaw.
All over the truth
In a sea of panic
As the Police fired into the crowd
And two pregnant women
Were trampled to death.
Thursday 26th January 2012 8:50 pm
Also by Andy N:Acrostic poem on Libraries | Hands in my pockets |
Там, где ритмы речей давно не слышны,
Собираю фрагменты фраз.
Или видел меня ты не с той стороны,
Или вовсе не видел нас...
С каждым днём бесполезней моя броня,
Мой спасительный броский цвет.
Перед тем как сменить слово мы на я,
Я признаюсь, что слова нет...
Столкновенье теней исключает спор,
Я на спор выхожу на свет,
Оставляя застенчивый мой позор
В перекрёстном ...
Thursday 26th January 2012 11:04 am
It’s a day today,
Just like any other day!
We toil we’re paid
And pay our way
As life ceaselessly moving –
Keeps all in ways of conformity
And there; we hasten a quarrel
That life, is not living
If living is only to work.
Thursday 26th January 2012 5:03 am
Also by Noetic-fret!:10 Reasons for Nothing | For Every Jailed Sorrow | Questions? | Not Mad; An Ode to Needful Things | Stretching | In Hell | North by North West | Cocoon | The Abstract of Confusion |
For my son, Joe, on his thirtieth birthday
thirty years ago
(how is thirty years a long time but the memory a second?)
I held you in my arms
baby, proud Father
as a photograph
so many old photographs
where for a second
the living are captured
I want to reach inside
live the moment
know again those people
whose flesh w...
Wednesday 25th January 2012 9:54 am
Also by Glyn Pope:New Year |
Life is not a tale.
You can many times fail.
Life is a science.
It’s your reliance.
If you all the time learn
you will certainly earn
the knowledge you need
so that your life to feed.
You can be joyful and cry
and million times to ask:
Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 24th of January, 2012
Tuesday 24th January 2012 11:20 pm
Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:Rzhepicks | She Is A Whore | Red And Brown | Winter Kiss ( Competition) | I Thank You | LOVE IS A MISTRESS OF HERSELF |
man on the street, I
turn my eyes so I will not meet.
No, but see my possible life.
Fear in my heart, is all hope
Tuesday 24th January 2012 11:12 pm
Also by Shirley Smothers:Starved to Death, for Jovonie |
'The Men Pomes' by Gerry Potter
8pm, 29.2.12 - 3.3.12
Studio Salford, Kings' Arms, 11 Bloom Street, Salford £7 / 5
Tickets can be bought on the night at the door or bought online http://www.ticketweb.co.uk/user/?region=gb_northwest&query=schedule&venue=kingsarmssalford&month=1&day=29&year=112&interface=kingsarmssalford
Creator of Chloe Poems and writer of smash hit play 'Miracle', Gerry Potte...
Tuesday 24th January 2012 3:32 pm
The worst of the front was that trickle of rain
down the neck. Wet through, it felt like liberation.
And lice. Home on leave, people shunned him in trains.
Walled, hilltop village of his childhood:
as another war came, he returned to Barga.
Saw himself as immobile, a tree spreading roots.
When the Germans briefly retook his village
one self-portrait was damaged. The ...
Saturday 21st January 2012 5:51 pm
The sleeping waters of the lake, quiet, they dream of the moon,
Reflected captured by their depths,
As tonight, the trees hush to the wind’s gentle tune,
And we see all the ‘fore unseen sights,
And we sculpt and we paint and we write,
As a dreamy awe takes away our breath
And this night we share a dream,
Yes tonight we kiss each other’s worlds,
Saturday 21st January 2012 12:49 pm
An inoffensive old man
Sits down and contemplates his situation
While the years have scored his forehead
Intimidated by the gaze
Of over-complicated fear.
From an early pose his neutrality
Falls away from the shackles of home.
Far from domesticity, flung away
From fear and intimidation of peers
So devoid of attachments.
But he sips warm milk.
Friday 20th January 2012 11:00 am
He would come to her mostly at night. Sloping down the long corridors
of white-tiled darkness. The easy smile, soft words.
A touching of hands. Close and quiet; fixed
in their yellow cone beneath the anglepoise.
Some nights her eyes were seastorms. A fury of wind
on black waves. A craze of hot, white lightning
against the pale wash of turquois...
Thursday 19th January 2012 8:23 pm
Also by Anthony Emmerson:WOL comp - last chance to vote . . . | Poetic place names . . . ? | WOL Comp - The Entries . . . | Last call for WOL Comp! |
God is looking for action,
write a book or a manuscript.
It might make you woozy,
to sign a pact with the devil,
But take that first step,
peeling rust off steel,
deciding you can do it.
Then gaze blankly,
lean against a bar,
break a figurine,
take a li...
Wednesday 18th January 2012 6:09 pm
The garden-fresh smell of the air;
the sun bleeding through the
umbrella of leaves. Butterflies
like fairies ballet dancing above
daffodils, bluebells and snowdrops.
It should have rained that day.
Beautiful bunches of flowers -
shaped to read your name.
Lilies, roses and forget-me-nots.
My young f...
Wednesday 18th January 2012 11:53 am
Also by Jonathan Mamczynski:Torn between Right and Left |
I was looking at that window thinking
there's someone I love in there -
and she was
I looked at your window later
waving a thousand times -
and yet couldn't stop
I'm looking at that dim lit window
as cold rain struggles to freeze white -
And in there are my mad life's beauties,
as I lean against the first of January's nights
Tuesday 17th January 2012 9:49 pm
Also by Dali:Planet Earth |
Half In Shadow
Adamas had spent his career managing chaos. He traveled from the red clay South to the milkweed Midwest because Aquanetta invited him and his life in Birmingham Alabama was killing him. He was bored with public television and Birmingham, uninterested in grandchildren, tired of X-wives, X-girlfriends and advice from doctors who wanted to manage his entire existence. A change will ...
Tuesday 17th January 2012 2:52 pm
Also by J. Otis Powell‽ (with interrobang):Bloodstream | Speaking In Tongues | Waiting For A Spaceship | Camouflage | Wishful Thinking | i live in music by Ntozake Shange | Maturation |
There are trees of peculiar shape
at the bottom of my garden – branches made strict,
with magpie feathers
and an ungodly green bottle neck
They wink in the sight of a distant sun –
sanded down, a rare pink hue
but pistol gripped,
and a hot diamond snap
over the horizon.
My throat is sore –
Tuesday 17th January 2012 2:22 pm
Also by Marianne Daniels:Even The... | Then | Sketch | Siberia | The Other | Hear, Hear, New Year! |