Poetry Blogs (Jun 2012)

Popular last 30 days

A Bedroom to go.

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A Bedroom to Go.......

I rest my tired bones on the posturepedic  pavement, although not quite designed for the human frame, my already aching body moulds itself to the none contours as if laid out prematurely on a mortuary slab.

The cardboard box and flimsy lining of the sleeping bag act as a mattress topper and if only for minute offer me a brief escape into slumber.

I awake numb ...

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Nightly Events


Nightly Events

I'm used to sleeping alone at night in my bed. No one there.

I'm used to being unloved and unwanted at night, feeling the touch of a bullet.

I'm used to being forlorn and forsaken, dead inside during dark hours. Inside and out. I'm used to having no lover to get wet and sweaty with, damn hot eroticism. Not in my bed or life.

I'm used to having no one hold m...

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Berlin Tokyo War Hearts live poem set@isis levenshulme | ATOP NELSON’S COLUMN | Hold Rock | HOME | FIGHTER PILOT | HEIGHT (wrote at Hay Festival, Wales 10/06/2012) | CHAFF | Sky Wheel | LANDSCAPE OF TEARS | poem tatoo whatever... | WOULD YOU TRUST A COMPUTER? | WOULD YOU TRUST A COMPUTER? | So Far From Home | TO THE SUN | VIEW FROM THE MOUNTAIN |

alonebreak the cyclelet down againmeet someone newnightly eventsusual story

Everything Is Not Going To Be Okay

I am not asleep.

Just past half five a.m. I am less than gravetized.

Little white dust, a lust for pure thought, an edge or

some disfigurement. An absolute poem

that will make a freak of time and jazz

is the protagonist aware of the power it holds

on these insane moments

of sniffed muse and

skin dropped silver bombs.


Because sometimes I am that child ag...

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Also by Kealan Coady:

Three Cruel Penguin Scenarios | Pink | Dark Is Control | The Sleek Reprisals of Organised Wheelchair Gangs | Pianos Laugh For Dead Elephants | Green | Blue | The Kidnap Subliminals | Haik | Calm Fire Dream | Glum Pooch | Love The Cage | Easy as. |


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It's not poetry but I thought you might like to know what I've been up to for the last few months...

Since September 3 Bolton schools and 1 from Wigan  have been participating in Artspeak, an exciting combined arts project inspired by my novel ‘Holly the Freak’. In addition to enriching the literacy curriculum in these schools the project has empowered young people, developed their ta...

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(a previous post, excised revised and hybridised)




I endured

Her desolate, enormous helplessness

With such a fierce compulsion that it seemed

My very heart must claw out from my breast

And leap the space between us…

But, summoning

A strength from some cold fathom of the will,

Turned back again.


And her eyes wen...

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Beyond the limit

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Beyond the limit
tempting is
the border area
hanging around
in the gray zone
watching the game
of back and forth
seeing how vanity
and power
push them
beyond the limit
© by Jan Theuninck

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"Jan Theuninck"

OpenMind Accepted for O2 Think Bigger Funding


We got in O2 Think Bigger!

Special thanks to Richard Hawkins of the Autistic Organisation and Sally Carr of Lesbian and Gay Youth Manchester for supporting our application.

With this funding OpenMind will finally be able to roll out our premium video service that's been put on standby for the moment, and also we plan to hold a free to attend open air event in Manchester.

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Also by OpenMind:

OpenMind 2nd Anniversary/Birthday Special |

Autistic OrganisationLGYMO2OpenMindThink Bigger

OpenMind Accepted for O2 Think Bigger Funding


We got in O2 Think Bigger!

Special thanks to Richard Hawkins of the Autistic Organisation and Sally Carr of Lesbian and Gay Youth Manchester for supporting our application.

With this funding OpenMind will finally be able to roll out our premium video service that's been put on standby for the moment, and also we plan to hold a free to attend open air event in Manchester.

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Also by Ushiku Crisafulli:

OpenMind 2nd Anniversary/Birthday Special |

Autistic OrganisationLGYMO2OpenMindThink Bigger

The Naked Jogger

Reliable camera

For sale.

Excellent condition

Careful owner.

Used once

Costa Coffee.

Positioned outside

Ladies loo.

Not guilty

Offensive action.

Finger slipped

Human error.

Negative result

I flashed.

Dazzled focus

Automatic rewind.

Strap tightened

Hidden away.

Alleged crime

Fled scene.

Handed form

Railway statio...

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Also by Nigel Astell:

The Bolton Flasher | In Intensive Care At Planet Hospital |


Woody Guthrie's birth centenary is almost upon us (July 14) and it's time to deal with some uneasy feelings America's favourite folk song has always stirred in me. As a spoken piece my take on This Land Is Your Land ends with a change of tone and pace in the last line, which looks a bit flat on the page, working best in performance - when it can be followed by singing (reflectively rather than ...

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The thought of it persists, the blue and white 
of Iceland, where mastery and theatre unite;
a church of the stubborn born earth,
a magnetic glory be, 
the shape of a Killer whale.
It excites; grey trips of seagulls –
the throat of the ocean, curious,
and bone by bone – cleaned of,  hairs that quiver
in the bolt – a string sharp gut to the heart,

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Tree Hollow | The Vague Day |

Grody Hurlothrumbo

(I've never written a poem of this type before. I feel this a feeble attempt. Its audience is children. It came out of a workshop I attended. Your comments, impovements and criticisms would be more than appreciated)


Grody Hurlothrumbo


Grody Hurlothrumbo,

blobber lipped and yellowed,

stomps into my bedroom at night.

Repulsive and repugnant,

she scares me in fr...

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(An old post mais nous sommes ici encore)



I wish I was in St Palais

Where shards of sunlight teem

In the cool Atlantic breeze of


Where the black kites fly

In a cloudless sky

Like a sultry, Gallic dream,

Where fishermen’s sheds

Tend the oyster beds

In Charente-Maritime.


I wish I was in La Palmyre

            By ...

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Also by John Coopey:

Research | Arthur ap Uther - The Battle of Lugg Vale | Dedicated Follower of Thrashing | avant garde verse |

Warm icing

Words you ever say

stir my listening depths.

Adding pinches of ecstasy

I breathe them out from my love

reshaped  delicacies

for your unreeling consumption

sultrily winding in and out

taking each in turn

to be slowly,soulfully digested.

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The Communications Trilogy Pt:1 Television

Hi everybody

 So I have written a trilogy of poems based on the subject of communication. I have rather inventively decided to call them The Communications Trilogy.

 The first on the Trilogy is Television, whilst I am someone who is generally pessimistic about the media and government and don't really believe a word of what we are told, I do suffer from a subconscious paranoia. Beaten i...

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I need to love you...

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I need to love you...


Imagining love, I was spring on your skin,

when the folds of dawn dressed with honey

devoured my body again and again

my desire flourishing breathless only imagining you


Wishing to live in your lips, a wave of pleasure

I desire to lose myself in your fire

and baring your kisses

in the impenetrable silence of your feelings


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Also by Noris Roberts:

Chained orgasms are biting my lips |


Train Tracks

                                                            Train Tracks                        




Does his reach exceed his grasp?

Or her grasp exceed her reach?

Are the meams presented daily –

Stopping Each, their choice?

     Should it matter?




                        Like restrictions of marbles

Placed bluntly, ...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Ashen Tears of Pain | Acceptance is Madness | Ode to The Fisher King |

Slow down you drive to fast

Slow down you drive to fast


Dave from Darwen was racing down the M65,

Going soo fast and lucky to be alive.

He was pulled over by a cop who was ready for his break,

Hankering for his coffee and a piece of carrot cake.

"Hope you've got a good excuse for going so fast,

I looked at my speedo and was truly aghast."

"Well,years ago my wife ran away with a cop,


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Also by hugh:

"White"said Fred | One!Two !Three!Four! | Skinny dipping | What does she look like? | Heath's teeth | A flat joke | The tears of Diana | Welsh is best. | Women can't half talk | A visit to the optician | Female brain triumphs | Confessions of a husband and wife | Hand picked | Alcholic Frolic |

Took Ten Steps

This is a poem that was written by an old friend of mine called Paul Nunn who I have a long music association with. He heard some of my performance poetry and asked if I would record this one. It is my pleasure to have done so.

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Also by Pete Fisher:

The Turmoil of my Sin | Breathe in the Dust |

performancepete fisherpoetryTook Ten Steps


Everywhere the murmur of departure, seeking a new fortune.

I go where Eternity becomes the verdant field of  Space.

I'm a pilgrim through the path of the time, under the rain,

I walk, the naked feet on a path of thorns.


I want to be a man who goes with the sword of Justice,

Against the thunder of tyranies, and the flood of corruption.


Everywhere the murmur of...

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my head an accident waiting to happen


My head
an accident
to happen
I see you
I watch
between the iron railings
rusty as ancient coffin nails
where green paint flaked
like the still warm and living skin
hanging from the ragged back
of one who is flayed alive
I wonder
about your life
your loves
the tragic brief happiness
that is n...

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Also by Steven Dark:

All grotesque about the earth | yellow about the land |

poetry by Wytchewoode

A Sporting Heart

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A SPORTING HEART Feet bite down And all around, the roar. Expectations are high Hands reaching for the sky. And yet my heart is still. Feet pounding, resounding Each step a moment in time. A memory begun Beneath the starting gun. And yet my heart is still. Competition is tough Will he have enough. Or will the devil of defeat Be-still his aching feet. And yet my h...

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Also by Darren Scanlon:

Alphabet Soup | Sweet Is The Word | Potions & Pills | The Greenwood | A Mouses Tale | Twilight Delivery | Big Ben |

WOL Olympic Competition

ThePoetry Spoke June- Open mic - David Subacchi & Jennifer Smith

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'ThePoetry Spoke'

Great poetry and acoustic music

This Tuesday - 26th June- doors open 8pm


La Gondola

22a Liscard Crescent

Wallasey- The Wirral

CH44 1AE (a stones throw over the Mersey from Liverpool)

Check us out in the gig guide...


Our Guest Poet

'David Subacchi'

David's poetry was born in Aberystwyth into a family with strong Italian root...

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Also by Chris Co:

Wirral Ode Show Open Mic June- a chance at publication! | Secret |


I wonder if the elders look

For patterns in this bubbling brook.

The swirls of life and repetitions,

Destroying the greatest of ambitions.


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The Hate Destroying You

Doe-eyed woodland artistry glows
oh, how you hide your face away
I give and give to you
investment in a broken thing
once-grateful hands grab more and more

There is a sickness of mind
a blackness and a spoilt heart
where blame is always searching
and mirrors cannot exist
once-blooming thoughts crush more and more

Pushing on the posts that held you up
you’ve pushed too hard this final time
the string of res...

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Also by Tom:

30 Steps | Only Moments | The Train is Waiting |

The Joint Poem

Tap, tap,tap


Inspiration is your aspiration

You hear nothing but your own thoughts

I’m wasted and watching

Drinking and inhaling

the cruel comfort it gives

Living the low life with you


© Katy Hughes 2012



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Also by Katy Megan Hughes:

Happy Fucking Father's Day | Winter of Discontent | Indifference | The Bed and Breakfast Test |


Only Connect

Only connect – a line, a lead, a link

Lassoing together disparate entities

As seamless as a maths-made Moebius strip

Constructible, yet with a vital twist:


Where, instantly, inside and outside, meld

Surprisingly, into a single surface

And so it is with us, the so-called self,

The side the world sees: epidermis.


And the inner, secret self, the soul, wh...

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Darkling Grail


Trees hide temple and given altar

Bride my foolish brother , my foolish sister

Merlin and his queen lady

she says thy spells

Seeks your secrets

Hide the light   and the steps  to his old Earth


Hand on lake

Let me touch the ice

Darkling grail 

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Also by mark littler:

Queen Enough For You |


For My Brothers

For My Brothers.


There are days in your life when you need to be still,

No need for excitement you don’t need that thrill,

When the quiet is everything, silence and calm,

No want for disruption, no want for alarm.


There are days in your life when that need is profound,

When your feet are both seeking the sanctified ground,

Where lips full and rounded are ...

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Also by Ian Gant:

No Coin For The Ferryman |




You sent me

flowers as an


to my work email



It wasn’t

quite the



I was

looking for.


I replied

with a

JPEG of a



I never


a postmaster



so you must have got the message.


From my new book - 'Working Extra Hours Ha...

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Also by George Stanworth:

The Photo Finish |

e-failflowersrelationshipsromantic poetry

Get ahead of the Games

We are delighted to enclose your travelcard
which will grant you entry to

Strap-hanging gymnastics
Competitive carrying of dogs and children
Endurance on the Northern Line
And the forty-metre scramble up the left-hand side of the escalator

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Also by Marnanel Thurman:

The naming of cats |

Oh, God! Give me the strength.....


Oh, God! Give me the strength to forgive

Even when I was not forgiven,

No one to humiliate or to offend

Even when I was humiliated or offended

Give me the wisdom to be always fair,

Teach me to fly and not to be scared,

Not to be indifferent to the neighbors,

But to live and create for world's favors.

If I doubt to ask my heart for advice

As my heart ne...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Let's Live! Let's Love! | Ginger's Marriage |


The Wrong Sort of Train

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Four days after I wrote this, the following article appeared in the Daily Telegraph:-‘A train company blamed “the wrong sort of passenger” for the problems some had in reaching London for the celebrations.’


The Wrong Sort of Train


We’re sorry the trains are not running you know

Tomorrow we hope they’ll be fine

But nature has dealt us a sad autumn blow


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A factual attack on global banking. NON party-political.


Lately, I’ve done a lot of research,

I found the chief cause for inflation,

Why there is never enough money,

Yet more unemployed in our nation.


Have you not wondered why it should be

That most countries owe huge deficits?

Where did all this money come from?

It’s a puzzle to challenge all wits.


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Also by Lynn Dye:

Ode to Arillas | Lullaby of the River |

storm chaser

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The clouds of your storm are filled with lollipops and pounding thoughts.
Raining on sad clowns, you turn frowns upside down.
Your lightning creates a sound soothing to the crown.
Your image, as an imprint in the sky, never disappears from our mind.
The weather makes us feel better…incredible sensations!
Yeah, we see you over there laughing at your own creations.

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Also by MNtality:

(untitled) | I'm For It (pre-chorus) | One |

artistbutterfliesClowdsdanceedgefireflakeflowers optimism happinessfunkHeartnuclear warRazorSheltershoesTravelsWeather

The fine art of being a miserable bastard


A couple of years ago, some bright

spark came up with the idea of plastering

quotes from Larkin’s poems inside

the blood-clot red buses that rush around


Hull. It was some sort of back-handed

attempt to pay tribute to his legacy. It’s

Tuesday morning, and I’m off into

town to try and convince someone


that I’m worth every penny. To my

left sit...

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All his things are here (updated version)


All his things are around here, in the wardrobe and in the drawers

The man himself has gone

But all his things are here


Don’t put your things in that drawer, that’s drawer’s already in use

But it’s full of the things of a dead man

And he’s no longer here.


It’s cold out tonight, so very cold, so why don’t you use this scarf?

It’s the scarf of a dead ...

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A stranger.


I laid dead and watched the warm winged rose of her breath soundlessly touch my distant heart. A stranger mad as angels. And by the soft palms of the raging sun I shall hold her And suffer without fear her dream.  
The mystique of her face tangled in my eyes and I saw the dawn in a basket of flowering life in a long walk.   
Am I deluded by Heaven and the vision of tea...

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BACK STREETS - inspired by a line in another WOL post

I've travelled  down the major highways

To self-important places;

And I've spent my time in minor byways,

Meeting much-loved faces,


But no matter where I choose to roam,

I end up at the start,

Always finding my way home

To the back streets of my heart.

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Also by M.C. Newberry:

GOLDEN BOY - a memory of schooldays hero-worship | RICHIE BENAUD - on his retirement to Australia | A BLUR OF GREY FUR | PASSING ROYALTY | JUBILEE JOY - welcoming our guests |

Gentler pleasures

Attend the church summer fete;

tombola and a silver band,

lucky dip and discarded books.

Bike along the restored canal.

Nurture your own, make do and mend;

hark again to the vinyl.


Sell the car, return to Scarborough,

watch cricket on the green, 

Wander aimlessly in the garden

as leaves swirl about in the wind.

For all the money is gone;

life won't be the same...

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Pome for the demise of a poetry night

And Lo!

It did wither and die,

And fade into the west,

And diminish, 


Into the sound of one arsehole...




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Anger consumes me

Eats my soul like a cancer

Self inflicted hell

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With peacocks at kew

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It seems too unlikely.

Little girl, pink frock, barefoot

wandering through a glade

following a peacock.


There’s no-one with her.

Just this sapphire creature

at her side.


Putting down our sandwich lunch

worried, we approach.

“Where is your mummy?”

The peacock disappears.


“Over there” she gestures


Tells us he...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

bus boy | nothing... |


Brief Encounters

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I feel there is far too much levity

Regarding men's size and longevity,

When the hormones are rife

Have a word with the wife,

With luck she will curtail this brevity.


Nick Clifton

16 June 2012

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Once you had your images.

Cardiac tamed by the smile

behind the name.


Secrets that you’ve

hymn drawn

to your later

arrow eyes.


You are my pen

after the punishment.


Once you had your heart,

But it came out garbled.


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Also by Winston Plowes:

Revel |


For I will Praise My Father

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For I will praise my father

for his giant frame

that once dwarfed me

as an oak tree

dwarfs a flower;

and for his big hands,

sure and strong,

and for the blue

sea secret of his eyes;

and I will praise him again

for the work he did

and the back

he bowed to feed me;

and more for the songs

he never sang,

and those he kept

to kindle


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Also by Renee Hinton:

(untitled) |


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A first class classic example
Of a way to manipulate news
Is to first of all own all the corporations
Then put out the version you choose
Present them a problem covertly of course
So horrific to ensure they implore
Create and evolve an ostensible pretext
Then hatch your plans for made up war
The reaction desired sure will be acquired
When your media beams out the...

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Jonathan Barrington Words Escape Me Poet Poetry Po

House sitters



The door bell is relentless

As you clutch each ankle

Gasp at the circling of my tongue

In the front room

Curtains closed

Feet away from whoever’s there

“Fuck ‘em” I say

Ride these two fingers

Working like bony pistons

My third and fourth

Pumping through the slush

Of your heat

Cheap vodka’s undressed us

And everyone’s in Lanzarote


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Also by mike watts:

Comfort | This happened. | Anesthesia |

Ad Vice


Let the silence sing out
Sometimes its song is better
If you don't know the words
Follow the melody to the letter

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