Poetry Blogs (Jan 2012)

Popular last 30 days

Let the Chips Fall

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

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Also by IndigoAngelUshiku:

Lover's Limbo | Blood Mage |


Making a list

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...

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Also by kayberley:

Untitled as yet! | Gnomic love affairs |

One World Soon


One hope I have for my children
No hunger or fear in their lives
Every parent wants this, so that is no surprise
When will the world meet in honesty
Openly plan an end to all poverty
Remove the crowns from the commerce kings
Let morality stand proud within all our tradings
Don't let it take too long my friends

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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


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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 |

Control Food

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Control Food

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...

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eating disorderfoodreal life

A Time For Snowdrops

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...

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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.


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citydespairGreek Mythmedusapoempoemspoetry

Pretty Young

Pretty Young


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...

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Grey of hair

And moustache,

He would sit


With the slow guest


The un- perspicuous


In his tiny kitchen.


In the aftermath of war

And plenitude

Of remnant explosives

He had come into possession

Of some hand grenades.


And desiring

To eat of more fish

Than a mere net


Had ch...

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Damn you-Freeview!

The thought of T.V. holds no appeal this evening, so,for a change I try to strike up an unusual conversation w'it  wife.   I ask do you think Martians have ever walked down our street? she answers- Dunno love,I,ll ask Mrs Scroggins in the morning- she knows everything!   Although my attempts at conversing were inadvertantly derailed at...

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Make the World Your Ashtray

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...

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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
spilling red
through the pebbles

one to navigate the dot dot
Pollock spots chasing dark swirls across his spray ...

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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...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


A distant Memory


I see you in black and white,
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,
that never

My remembrances of us are
so unlike the motionless
image flickering on my screen:
constantly metamorphosing,
from perfection to a man
living in the delicate body of
a woman.


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Insult to Injury

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Upon leaving the army

the country gained

one more scrounger.


Swapping medals for disability

bullets for cuts.

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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...

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cupboardhiddenjunkold stuffvaluable


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.

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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.

Fickle public,
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.

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A Story

entry picture

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...

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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.


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Also by Dave Bradley:

This will do | Birthday with a zero | User Guide |


Selby Abbey

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(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.


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Also by John Coopey:

Selby - "My Least Favourite Things" | Kranp | Mistress Rachel | Clitoris | Tontine | Walford | Father and Son |

Yorkshire Steel

This memento

Of Sheffield:

I bought it

For you.

Should I leave it here?

Seeing as

It is stuck


In your guts.

Your lifeblood seeping

Onto the cold,

Soiled pavement.

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

Or any...

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The Party is Over

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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

Seagulls solita...

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Also by Alan Morrison:

Broken Beauty |


Tippler toilets down the yard, pitch black.

No chain,

ripped up newspapers down the drain.

No lights,

not even a candle on cold winter nights.


Constipation cured when the cat runs in

and the rat runs out.

No locks,

just scream and shout

when you pull up your kecks

and scamper out !


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Also by Mike Hilton:


New album 'Bankers & Looters' out now....

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My angriest and most topical album ever....Available from  http://www.attilathestockbroker.com/merch.html

Loads of gigs happening soon....

Cheers A

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Like Clockwork

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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


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A Dog's Life |


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They all crash and burn

One by one

They fall

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...

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One day, a butterfly

Came by

And settled on my knee

Can't you see

Said he

That I am Free

Free to fly

Into the Sky ................

Bye Bye

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Fred Goodwin Ate My Hamster

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He didn’t really, I just like the title.

I’ve had loads of hamsters over the years,

None were eaten by Fred, my fears-

Of losing a hamster to Freds greed

Were misplaced.


I should have been worrying about the safety of other things

And not my furry little cutie pies

With their tiny little rodent-y eyes.

Not as expressive as dogs

Are hamsters, in my opini...

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Lancashire Sung Simply (Chants from Walkabouts - 13)

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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...

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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) |


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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 ...

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

Cupid and Psyche |

a st agnes tragedy

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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!




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Also by Ann Foxglove:

dead daffodils | missing mum |

stair lift incidents

The Banking Sector

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

Don't cry: Etta James | Wandering expositions |

Coin Collecting

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...

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Also by C Richard Miles:

Aurora |

" Snippets" from "Oldlancsmans" Diary. Part four.

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...

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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 |

X Marks The Past

X marks the spot

Like a treasure map

Of the first places

We made love.


From the golf course

To the side of the train station

When your cold hands

Startled me that much

I was surprised

You didn't draw blood.


From the moonlight

On the moors

Where you howled throughout

So badly I thought you

Would transform

Into a werewolf.


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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...

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Prologue to a final solution (Scenes from a film unfinished)

entry picture
The piles of garbage were real
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. 
The piles of garbage were smudged
All over the truth
In a sea of panic
As the Police fired into the crowd
And two pregnant women
Were trampled to death.
Piles and piles were stacked up

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Also by Andy N:

Acrostic poem on Libraries | Hands in my pockets |


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Music and dance my big romance, I feel the rythm in TRANCE.... Puts kicks in my SOUL while ROCK makes me ROLL ...I like to move to the groove, I take rough with the SMOOTH... with POP I never stop!! ....JIVE I feel alive....I kick ass with trash .... HEAVY METAL i have a bash... CLASSICAL makes me chill while ROMANCE fits the bill ....musics my drive, it makes me glad to be alive .....



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Also by Lesley Whittaker:


Translation of my very old song


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 ...

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     It’s a day today,

Just like any other day!

     We toil we’re paid

And pay our way

As life ceaselessly moving –

Incessantly badgering

Keeps all in ways of conformity

And there; we hasten a quarrel

That life, is not living

If living is only to work.



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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 |

United Nations

For my son, Joe, on his thirtieth birthday


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...

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Also by Glyn Pope:

New Year |

52Weeks week 3

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In my attempt to document the year's events through poetry, I simply could not avoid this subject. Having been on several cruises myself, the sinking of the Costa Concordia really hit me. What added a more sinister and perhaps cowardly aspect to the whole misadventure was the behaviour of Catpain Schettino. I therefore dedicate the following lines to him.




Look what...

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Also by Matt Rakowski:

52Weeks Week 2 | 52Weeks project, Week 1 |


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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

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Rzhepicks | She Is A Whore | Red And Brown | Winter Kiss ( Competition) | I Thank You | LOVE IS A MISTRESS OF HERSELF |

Ragged Man

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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


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Also by Shirley Smothers:

Starved to Death, for Jovonie |


Gerry Potter interviewed by Dominic Berry about 'THE MEN POMES'

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'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...

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dominic berryfeministgaygerry potterkings armsmanmanchestermenmen pomesperformancepoemsalfordshowsocialiststudio salfordtheatreverse

How mad


Someone was butchered around here last night.

On the pavement just outside the bike shop

Cloud-shaped stains are all that remains

Of an unnamed man in his forties.


Police are hoping that the words

         BASH OF N.H.E

Tattooed across the back of his neck

Will help to identify him.


I pick up the phone and finger the 9’s.

I can feel my legs ...

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Rooftops (for Bruno Cordati)

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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 ...

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ItalyPaintingsecond world war

This Night We Share A Dream



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,


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An inoffensive old man

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.


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The Meeting of two souls

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I was never meant to hold you

and I was never meant to love you

but I did. 


I never meant to surrender to your kisses

or your touch

but then I did. 


I never meant to be involved 

or fall in love with you

but then I did.


Fate did that for me. 


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Also by Katy Lisa :

Sharing |

bay 3

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Bay 3


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...

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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


God is looking for action,


take steps,


write a book or a manuscript.


It might make you woozy,

to sign a pact with the devil,

blind panic.


But take that first step,

peeling rust off steel,

deciding you can do it.


Then gaze blankly,

fall asleep,


lean against a bar,

break a figurine,

take a li...

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I remember:


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.


I remember:


Beautiful bunches of flowers -

shaped to read your name.

Lilies, roses and forget-me-nots.

My young f...

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Also by Jonathan Mamczynski:

Torn between Right and Left |

The first of January's nights

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

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Also by Dali:

Planet Earth |


Cough as many times as you like

Cough as many times as you like,

You'll never get it out.

It's lodged deep and no amount of hacking can get it out.

Your saliva is thick like glue,

And your throat is red raw

Nothing can get it out,

It will remain stuck and sore.

Your guilt is stuck,

And you cannot get rid of it,

Everyone will see it

And everyone will know.

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When A River Floods from Bottomless Sky (a novel by J. Otis Powell‽)

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 ...

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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 |

A Being In MotionAdamasBottomless SkyFloodsperformance prose

Fate Modern

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 –

swallowing, corseted,


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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Even The... | Then | Sketch | Siberia | The Other | Hear, Hear, New Year! |

January Write Out Loud Collage Poem

Tonight is the night

These boots are made for show


Written by an indignant hand,

More dignified than mine


Thin as wire, quick as fire

Quick as swallows backward in the night


A peacution freeze

In the midnight breeze


And to that wretched end,

We sold our souls


New beginnings, novel readings

Mindless mercies



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January Collage poem

Murder Christmas 2011

sorry to be so dark but.......

In the days before Christmas it was warm,

 Warm as blood.

 Red berries dulled, pine cones dropped,

 Houses adorned in red, green and gold.

Hope and peace carded the walls,

Turkey and creams stuffed the fridge,

 Canned laughter the T.V.

 And everywhere there were images of birth - and a baby.


It had rained for weeks, tirele...

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No Man Knows

No man knows the burdens of another, The ripping ache Attached to life As center of his universe No man knows The dreams of another, Stalled by reality Plundering endlessly Tattered to shards Falling apart Locked in his heart Shrouded in shadow Sheltered from daylight Hidden from plain sight Hidden from Pain's slight Secrets by nature, What was...

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I spoke to God today.

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I saw God today, he said hello, I said OK.

Its funny what some people say.

 I said I'm off out with the lads tonight do you want to play,

 Sorry he says I've got to pray.

 Pray for what I said a mans got to play.

For your souls he says you'll find out why some day.

Cool ... I said.

Aint it funny what people say.



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Pages of my life- from aggression to attitude


Though strange yet known,

Those days of my life which are gone.

Smoothly and calmly everything went,

I kicked it off, far away its sent.

Love aggression, emotion and care,

All the things we used to share

Gone are the days which wont return,

Remembrance of those things makes my heart burn.

Some strange pain arise within it-

Unable to bear, I cry within m...

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i wonder

through the

jewelled eyes

of cats

what vistas

are beheld

a trouser leg

the pleated skirt

or clumsy feet

which darken out

an azure sky and

tread too close


such thoughts

abound on

cooler nights

when car hoods

still bear heat

for veteran sorts

while summer sees

us loll luxuriantly

grooming ourselve...

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Invitation to Dance

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Straddle me with lip-gloss pout,
ensnare your prey with lip-sheen smile:

lift firm pecs to eye-shadow wink,
eye-liner proposition this studied guile;


and I have naught to live for now
than be with you for just a while.






Please make your response or comment on my profile page. Thank you.

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Festival of Firsts Poetry 2012

Festival of Firsts Poetry 2012

The second annual Festival of Firsts takes place over the weekend Friday 6th to Sunday 8th July.

Ian Nenna has stood down as chair of the poetry steering group and I have been asked, and agreed, to take over for this years festival.

The final line up of events hasn’t been confirmed yet, but some individual details are known. The festival is to open wit...

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Classics on repeat

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The eccentric dances gaily to classics,

Loose-fitted kimono sways to the rhythm,

For a man so happy it’s awfully tragic,

Left by his wife and adoring children.

The eccentric sips gaily on a cocktail,

Down-feather earrings bow with his head,

His ignorant wife will open a voicemail,

To find the cuckold will later be dead.


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Also by Joseph Kennedy:

Fool in love | Quilliam | Variety | She spoke words of nonsense and he nodded accordingly | I love to hate your guts | Seventh day blues | As for me, all I know is that I know nothing | Picnic | Lungs | Flat-pack |


Vegas Vagrant

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Roll up! Roll up!
For a trip to the US!
A fabulous journey
from the East to the West!
A baker's dozen of strangers
and a gaudy painted van!
A cavalcade of camp sites
for this intrepid tourist clan!
The trip of a lifetime,
or so they say!
Until the journey's nearly over
and we end up out Vegas way!
Then after two nights
among ...

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Depth Of A Salesman

I did it babe – I’m the new recruit!

The posh bird in the pin-striped suit

Shook my hand and told me straight

That I was the perfect candidate.

She swallowed all the usual lies

And failed to see through my disguise.

I love the confidence I can win

With a false CV and a cheeky grin.


I did it babe – I got the sale!

I went and spun this guy a tale

Of w...

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Also by Matt Carter:

How Not To Receive A Compliment | Fate Accomplished |


The Bait at The Bates Hotel.


Hell hath no furies like a woman
charring around
up let alone down,
stream bellowing from her pitch pipe.
Damn girl!
Tonight I'm on auto-pilot &
flying solo through every strip club in the northwest.

I'm dying here
drowning in lucid episodes.

I'll leave your body broke
churched among the seats of my egotistical menace,
I focus on the wanderlust of nu...

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MABEL: I am now faced with a difficulty Ursula, which is better perhaps to confess than gloss over.
URSULA: Oh Mabel, you must keep looking left and right into the indelible footprints of truth; unenticed by flowers; regardless of shade...we cannot accept poems just because she wrote them!
MABEL: But Cytherea is such a successful practitioner in the art of life.
URSULA: Yes, but they are ...

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Bloomsbury SetCythereaDomestic CherryMabel WatsonVirginia Woolf

My birthday/OpenMind 25th January full itinerary

As some of you may know there's a character limit on the event pages on here, so I've decided to upload the full itinerary so far for my birthday OpenMind event on 25th January at TV 21, 10 Thomas Street, Manchester as a blog for the OpenMind group page.


Everyone is very much welcome to attend my special OpenMind event whether they're first time readers, casual open micers or veteran ...

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BirthdayEventItineraryOpen MicOpenMindOpenSpacePlans

My work used by Dreamcatchers for Abused Children (an official non-profit 501(c)3 org in the US).

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Dreamcatchers for Abused Children (an official non-profit 501(c)3 child abuse and neglect organisation in the US) has a Missing Persons Division. They have used my video poem 'The Missed' (top left) on their page : 


I will be working with some charities and important organisations again in 2012. These all sho...

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John Harrisonpoempoetpoetrythe missedthe missing

I'm Looking Up At The Stars.


Framed bright starry diadems
Bathing the sky in floods of  living light
Forming glittering gilded gems
Twinkling rays in the night.
Treasures from the twinkling ray
Sweetly down the void they float
Brightly sparkling on the veil of day
Through many a melting note.
The stars are the jewels of the night
Silent as if they watch the sleeping ear...

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The Tudor

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And lo there came in to this world a light,

guiding all those who sought, unto this place,

shining through the bleakness of eternity,

enfolding all who followed with its grace.


And many who had travelled here were weary,

from the scourges of the journeys they had made,

bodies badly bruised upon the pathways,

the faith they had in kindred soul betrayed.



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What Price Love?

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In this place
drizzles each day,
torrents at night.

A missing Chirstmas day
fell at high tide,
cost him
four thousand baht.

It was a contrite
who returned
on Boxing Day,
his empty tail
between wobbly legs.

We were peeved
at the lack of
when you consider
it all, family versus
Thailand fornicaiton
are su...

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Chapped Lips

Do not let my hand slip into yours
if you do not want it to.
Do not let my arms embrace around
while my heart races in my mouth
begging yours to maybe do the same.
Thinking of you when I came.
Feeling my eyes burn with tiredness
whilst I wait for your text back.
Knowing it wont come,
unless it does.

In that case, i’m inspired.

I will reach for you.
Leap into any situation
just ...

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Soft Shoes

I feel (alone it seems) that In our tectonic relationship The resonances of our harmonic vibration Their full cadence might cause bridges to fail If we crossed them So that's maybe why We must walk out of step And run out of time

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"Welcome to Hufflepuff"

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Here's a poem narrated by the Head of the Hufflepuff House at Hogwarts. It was inspired by a radio sketch by Mitchell and Webb. I'm not sure how much I like it; the rhythm is a little awkward in places, but I'd be interested to know what you think.

"Good evening dearest Hufflepuffs, It’s now in the proceedings Where I share some words To move forward From how you must be fe...

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badgerCedricDiggoryHarryHogwartsHufflepuffPoemPoetryPottersorting hat

No cunt no cry

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Never have enoughness




Never play the gameness




Never to be shlyless


Gaydar your name

Show bums and shame

Please don’t txt again

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Also by Richard Seddon:

You’ve made your life, no shame, no blame | Do I text back the man I love |


All things considered

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It’s easy to become that which you preach

If you practice enough to believe it.


When wealth became your new religion

I longed for the time a lesser God

materially affected you.  Like Michael Foot


at least Jesus was a socialist.


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The Falling Down


Find more posts here: http://haydenwritesthings.wordpress.com/

The Falling Down

The knives and forks
are crossed on the plates
in the kitchen,

two used cups sit
quietly on the coffee table
by the sofa,

the pots and pans
we used last night swim
in a pool of cold water.

It’s mid-afternoon,
the rain lashes
at the windows,
and outside the birch
tree swings w...

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the learning nerves

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The learning nerves!

A poem inspired by a confidence and self esteem

building course attended at Mhist in Bolton.


Destiny and desires designed the darkness into an eventual tangle,

of falsities and fears with which we wrangle!

Thoughts founded on falsehoods and threats that flowed like water to the deepest depths,

fantasies we fear are facts that leave us of true h...

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Also by david walsh:

the secrets of the salamander - an alchemical misadventure! |

assertivenessconfidecehopemental healthmental illnessself esteem

Happy New Year

Greetings to all my inter-stellar friends. Missed my final December post for 2011. I have much to catch up on, like reading WOL poems since November as well as currently.  Looking forward to a productive 2012 for all of us - one day more to live and love - mathematical, yes - but still kinda exciting, mysterious.

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black tie afternoon

         drizzle outside


in our cups

        we make an early start

at the town hall dance


         tea and wafers

no paso doble


there are rumours of wife swapping

         amongst the over eighties


the foxtrot

         the slow slow waltz

the band is cranking the music up

         we r...

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Emma was her Eyes


(Dedicated to Sheila Hocken, based on her book "Emma and I")


Born only able to make out shapes

and distinguish light from dark.

She found during her teens

even these restrictions became denied to her.

Then at nineteen she took possession

of a beautiful chocolate brown Labrador

Emma who became her eyes.


For ten years she owed the life she could l...

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WOL comp


15 years younger

has kangaroos hopping all over it

Like Australia

has tears in two week old jeans

optimism leaking from pockets



why worry, she can replenish, right.


Cheeky eyes that cry

when they don't get their own way

and a smile that whisks

you back to a time where

there is more time


Where your worry that your life i...

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Jonny's Song

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Jonny played guitar like a man possessed, and when

Jonny sang a sad song the whole room wept

Got himself a guitar learnt to play on the way

Made his pact with the DEVIL on a lonely

road miles away


Jonny where are you now

Jonny where are you now


Jonny had the world at his feet, but what

The World ...

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