Poetry Blogs (Sep 2012)

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Devour and Crunch

There once were two cannibals called Devour and Crunch,

Who were sat at a table demolishing their lunch.

Devour said,"I don't like my mother-in-law!"

"Never mind, " said Crunch, "just eat the veg."

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Also by hugh:

The frying pan test | Nicola and Fiona, Rest In Peace | Dear Marge |


The evening paper and the scuffers

brought revelation. Sammy wasn’t even

his name I discovered and the prayers  

I’d offered were misplaced and useless

or somebody else had stolen salvation.

He wore Ben Shermans, Doc Martens

and a Harrington jacket but a uniform  

isn’t a suit of armour and a five-inch blade

punctured his stuffing, left him clutching

at nothi...

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Also by Ray Miller:

Pareidolia | Crickets | Vogue |

My Tibetan beliefs

When the spaces

between the first golden

and last grey kiss of life expires


When all colours are made to sleep

and the days are suspended


crossing the ocean

of every dying dream


we shall seed again and again 

on the shores of the eternal womb.




Patricia Wilde

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THE RIGHT ROAD - sing gospel!


O Lord lead me to the right road!  O Lord lead me to the right road

O Lord lead me to the right road...that's where I long to be


I was a sinner man - yes sir-ee... I loved sin and sin loved me

We were thicker than flies could be - be wise and heed this warning



The easy life was what I sought - everything that could be bought


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Also by M.C. Newberry:


Don't....And You Won't...


Do not go for a walk

And aloud do not talk

As the thieves are all around

And you’ll easily be found.


Do not sin, you’ll get the AIDS

And will walk on the edge of blades.


Don’t eat nuts or something solid

As your teeth will be soon spoiled.


Don’t run quickly, you can fall,

Won’t be able to walk at all.


Do not sit, take care of...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

A Long Life Road | An Ideal Husband | I Am Unique | That's My Odessa | Inspiration | My Elixir | How Many And How Few | ODESSA - MY PRINCIPESSA |


Man U 2 Tottenham 3

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(Where do all the shirts go when they've lost?)


I saw a dozen Man U shirts

Proudly on display

Worn by fellow gym members

In Selby yesterday;

I went again this morning

(Tottenham won away)

They must have all been in the wash

     -  Not a one today!

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Also by John Coopey:

The Week We Should Have Played The Lottery | Shandy Man | George Best |

Walk Through September and Make it to the Other Side

hear the sound of every rusted, blunted mace

as they greet and meet  through gravity’s lack of grace,

each at thirty two point two,

the fateful rate of this heaving season


where fruits misplace a summer’s trust to kiss the dirt

and, where they fall, corrode and stall the wheels of love

for those we find untouchable


while yet our hearts may still enmesh, b...

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Also by Paul Sands:

The Dark Matters | Nada | Did You Hear Something? |

autumnfallmortalityunrequited love

Of Lilith and Anthony


Candle flame doth gently sway
Conjures the demon usually kept at bay
Lover’s felo de se shines bright as the moon
She knows the timing is far too soon


Shriek of hungry vixens surround
She runs to him on frozen ground
Barefoot beneath does not chill
the hunt to have the desired kill


He pulls heavy curtains tight
Blocks out the descending night
She claws ...

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Also by Katy Megan Hughes:

By the wayside | Dichotomy | Conditioning | Sea |

lovelove poemlove poetry

The Raceless Man

The Raceless

My body is just a shell that I wear,
quite how it looks I have scarcely a care,
for I have no sight to cause me any pain,
or to make me view you with any disdain.

I'm told I have a colour but what does that mean,
perhaps it's like the flavours that I taste in ice cream,
I like the taste of all of those I've ever yet tried,
vanilla, coffee or chocolate, they slide smoothly ins...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

No Perfect System | Lining The Pockets | Our Carefree Play | Night & Day |


When I've Gone

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If and when i start to dribble
If i'm cabbaged and locked in a trance
If spastic paralysis or motor neurons
Have me shitting and pissing in my pants

If you find me on the precinct
In nowt but my undies and socks
Ship me off to that place in Switzerland
Send me back in a cardboard box

Don't waste money on a fancy casket
Or a cortege of fancy cars
And I don't wanna sit on no m...

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Also by Words Escape Me:

Spanish Dolls |

Death Faith Religion Atheist Atheism Funeral Morta

An Experiment!

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Hi Everyone,

I haven't posted anything here for some time now; not through lack of interest - but simply time and inspiration. However, I am hoping that some of you might feel willing to help me with something that's very new - well, it is to me anyway. Those of you with whom I've conversed over these last few years will know that I have regularly been an advocate of freeing poetry from the...

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audio/visual experiment


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  An End to War

Man waged his final war and got it over with.

Border disputes were settled, cities bombed, military bases raided, jets shot down, people killed and nations pulverized.

At last it's over, the killing and guns silent.

What now in this quiet wasteland world?

Guns were out ammo, bullet factories bombed flat, soldiers dead.

Flowers grow on their grav...

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Old Skool | Met | TREASURE | Belgrade | My Darkness | New | NIGHT OUT | OUR STREET | UNTITLED |

an end of wardestruction then peacewar is over


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To allow the thunder to strike me

I must dismiss it

And retaliate

With silence not fear


Mustn’t let my ears fool my heart

Into fooling my head


I’ll let the vibration take me

For now


While the heat pushes the air

To my ears

From afar

Now that’s what I call Music



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Cat Burglar

Window latch

Forced open

Intruder enters

Velvet curtains

Pushed aside

Silent shadow

Tight leather

Plastic gloves

Feeling direction

Careful footsteps

Creaking stairs

Bedroom door

Turning handle

Pulse racer

Mobile phone

No signal

Heavy breathing

Coming closer

Anxious moments

Body contact

Nervous grip

Holding on


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Pussy Prowler

Silken Threads

It was cold in Grandma's attic:

Like the chill of her last rest -

How I loved her! - and her dying

Left me sad, alone, depressed -


And the key that she left for me

To her wooden, japanned, chest

Now unlocked what was my portion:

Now, could my soul find its rest?....


In that chest, a vast profusion

Of many a gorgeous evening gown,

And the silke...

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Also by Dorinda MacDowell:

A Boy And His Dog | Lost Spring |

Three Point Seven Million

What is life worth?


We live and love.

We laugh and cry.

We scream and Shout and fight.

For what we believe is right


Is this what makes us whole?


He will never experience

the totality of humanity.

He will never understand

the reality of existence.

He will be all that he can Be

and will see

all that he can see.


Three poin...

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Also by Nicky Burrows:

I Shared | What if..... |

Weekend Quest

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Good morning campers

 Time for more ramblings from my mind, spewing forth on the page like a student at a house party. Something a bit more story based from me this time, Inspired by a recent trip to Berlin and a simply amazing club called Weekend. I think the poem tells you everything else you need to know.


Weekend Quest

Low lit square at 3AM
Carriage pulls up
Exchange made...

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Also by Matt Tilke:

The Meeting |


The Yard

The weeds are cramped in;
boisterous fingers curved around
empty glass bottles
climbed with mildew, fudged with rain.
They shiver –
the frizzing of their hair
swamped with the near October;
a place where yellow sleeps in grey.
The gate is winced in tight;
the cord around the bolt,
wet raw. Over the wall
a  tre...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Snow Fox | A Speck of Dirt | Meadow Lane | Requiescat | Inanimate | Through the Parting Grey |

A Child Divides

A child divides the second

it is born

into infinite places.


All our usual selves

carry out the menial statures.


Some will die,

some will live forever.


Our multiversal persons

protect and extract

savagely and in the most

perfect, foremost differences.


A child divides

because man, woman,

beast and lover


breed in...

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Billy Joel's rejects

Billy Joel’s rejects


“Touch my taps of polished chrome”;

“I’ve just covered me in foam”;

“You’re my sticky honey comb”;

Good God - an instant pleasure dome.

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Also by Tim Brenan:

Fast food in Sussex | Poems on 45 | Bickeigh |

Dear Facebook

A little poem that is very much not in my usual style!

Dear Facebook,

 We have known each other a long time now,
 and whilst I know you will always be there for me,
 it is with a heavy heart that I must tell you the following:
 We can no longer be together.

 It’s not you.
 It’s me.

 I find I can’t keep away from you,
 and I have so much work to do these days...

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He looks like Tony Curtis

would have looked

if Tony Curtis

had not been Tony Curtis. 

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beside the makeshift huts

roofs rusted by the rains

nigeria quite understands

500 tongues amongst

its many utterings

how body or how you dey

provokes an i dey fine

from smiling bright clad

men sitting at tables

scrabbling for worthy news


round radio wazobia

blink boffins with menial folk

share a knowing joke perhaps

and jaundiced views o...

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Also by Philipos:



Miserable grey, damp wet Days

Days shorter and winters Long

Long bleak dark Evenings

Evenings as black as pitch.


Bright frosty cold Mornings

Mornings glistening in the Sun

Sun shines cold as the Day

Day soon will become night.


Snow crisp and White

White flurries fall from the Sky

Sky as white as the Day

Day fades into a crisp evening.


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I'm just not that into you anymore (sorry)


When I look

At you



Into the



My balls



Due to

The fact



"I'm just not

That into






That Girl


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my mother was a slut


who liked cute babies

and went on marches

to ban the bomb


her own mother

named her so

for leading men on

with her ration book stockings

and sooty eyes


I knew her

as a gentle woman

who never looked her father in the eye

nor my father

though she wasn't shy


we drew on the walls

and bed sheets t...

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'ThePoetry Spoke' September - Open floor & Guests. (NOTE - a one off change of venue tonight)

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'ThePoetry Spoke'

Great poetry and acoustic music

This Tuesday - 25th September (Tonight!) - doors open 8pm


Egremont Ferry Hotel

Tobin Street

Wallasey- The Wirral

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

Check us out in the gig guide...


Our Guest Poet

John Hulme

'Spiritually strong, yet humanly fragile'.  Philosophically ...

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Also by Chris Co:

Wirral Ode Show Open Mic September- plus poetry filming. |

First Class Ticket.

The lonely years spent on his own,
his romantically barren existence.
The humdrum job, the pittance pay,
he never shows resistance.
Every week he clings to hope,
by the TV screen he’s praying.
Fourteen million to one, a so slim chance,
yet he thinks this is mine for the taking.

The machine it turns, the numbers drop,
he can’t believe what he’s seeing,
six in a row, the pr...

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The first cut is brutal

always deep with cold

blade tearing into timber

opening a pathway

for subtler strokes

slicing with sharpness,

carving strongly,

the base for intricate designs

on blocks gripped tightly

in the jaws of steel vices


The last cut is gentler

a loving after thought

adding a signature

to shaped and sha...

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Also by David Subacchi:



Walking side-ways

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There is one scoffing,
high and winsome
even now about the town-
pointing, looking, directing traffic
this way, that way up and down-
then anointing,
lay the mantra-
cries- 'I love you'
I'm walking side-ways with a frown.

I feel the hem of your thinking...
only to have it tugged away...
only to have it tugged away...

words and foto T Carroll


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Also by Tommy Carroll:

recovery |

A Small Bud

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A small bud, withered

But just a few drops of rain

Beautiful flower.



I was inspired to write

this haiku after reading

Nigel Astell's poem/comment

on my poem "Despair".

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Also by Shirley Smothers:

Despair |


Who Ate All The Pies?


Hey, who ate all the pies?

I’m not saying you are fat

But the last three tarts are gone.

My tin’s empty, fancy that!


Say, who ate all the pies?

It is not that you are plump.

Someone’s had a midnight feast

And is asking for a thump!


Right, who ate all the pies?

Though you’re clearly not obese,

How can you tell such fibs?

I shall call ...

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Also by Lynn Dye:

Crescent Moon (Rewrite) | heritage sun | Can't Beat Experience | Greengage Anyone? | Crescent Moon |

Lucy Ford

Outside my door. ..............666 .............maybe the thief was right. ..............no new tricks. Poop!

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Household Gods

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And in whatever houses a cat has died by a natural death, all those who dwell in this house shave their eyebrows only, but those in whose houses a dog has died shave their whole body and also their head.  The cats when they are dead are carried away to sacred buildings in the City of Bubastis, where after being embalmed they are buried - Herodotus


Somehow, we’ve acquired a statuette o...

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War Cry feat. Noetic-fret!

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                                                Sahara April



     This little girl be no strange little girl,

She is a baby,

No stranger,

No strange inclinations

Born of colour – no prejudicial ideas

Taught from strange folk

With strange little minds for;

     She knows not the resentment of

A callous World.


     This little girl be no s...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Feeling and Reason |

poetry on mobiles

Does anyone use digital media to down load poetry on the move?

Is there a site /app/ device  etc you would recomend?



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About your mother's face


About your mother’s face.



Now your memory has degraded,

a suspicion  that mother’s beauty was overestimated.

Youthful photographs, like early snaps of Marilyn,

offer no clues as to her face’s full potential.

The portrait celebrating her beauty’s climax in middle age

disfigured by melancholy.


Mother was ordinary until class mates informed


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Also by fiona sinclair:

Material Girls | Earning the house keeping | How to lose a friend |



when I buy cherries

I put them in a bowl

cheep plastic and clear

without digging up a lid


I like to pick off the steams

as I bite them in half 

tossing it back in the bowl 

using my teeth to pick out the pit

and toss it to, back in the bowl

as I hold the other half

in my fingertips

and chew happily at the fleshy fruit


now pits an...

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Also by Johanna LaVon:

Paradoxical Sleep |



People who have a cushion with a hand sewn folk art owl on

Will at some point draw a moustache on their finger

They will place that finger under their nose and pose

For a photograph


The members of the BNP will not study philosophy

Since they are given the label ‘the far right’

They assume they have all the answers


Whether you cut carrots into batons...

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Mud is good,
It's dead good mud,
It's in me blood,
but where not understood,
us people of mud,
In the shadow of a gas tank and born on a mersey bank, i lived on cobbled streets dark and dank,
i played on a ship that sank, and for anything else i wouldnt thank....... you
On king street docks, girls in cheap frocks, curly locks, time tocks, the boat rocks,
The tanyard smell made life hell for all that...

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Also by tina:

Garston town | justice for the 96 | Not plain Jane |

What Remains

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This is how it starts.
The thinnest wisp of smoke in the stomach,
The tinniest jolt in time.
The heart, as yet, remains unmarked.

But a flame with strength beyond control has sparked
And lends weight to the smoke that rises to choke
the lungs and throat and whatever remains
Of beauty, or brains.

The heart, as yet, remains unmarked.

I stood there in that fire, burning with sin,
In a...

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lossmental healthremainsWhat

party piece

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When I was first alone

I cut off all my hair

time turned upside down

sleeping in the day

sleepless all night long

world service mornings

warmed by the rayburn

with a cat for comfort.


For weeks my fingers were so cold.

I'd touch faces -

people would recoil

at my icy icy hands.

It was my party piece...




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Also by Ann Foxglove:

nimrod | gulls |

White Horses are coming


Towering tall chimneys reach to the sky

Each giant reaching with arms tall and high

Soot filled fingers smother the city dry

Colours are gone so wave them good bye

White horses are coming


The car standing alone has come to its doom

The exhaust breathing its own cloud of gloom

The green grass of home was once in full bloom

Now lies blackened by the car...

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Environmentglobal warming


Now that it’s dark as a polished sea      

you hold the whole of me static


in the click of a camera,

trap me in lenses - wide angle,  


telephoto, fisheye.      

You capture the curve of the earth


with me leaning into it,

hands wrapped fast


round the railings near the bus stop.  

A row of grey buildings


hunkers behind; at thei...

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rott  ing

birch es


like  to

bacc o


summ er

fall    ing


green now

yell      ow


so man

y  oaks


so  few

a corns


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It's A Man Thing

There is nothing that a man does,

That a woman cannot do better,

And if she wants to do it, then boy

You ought to stand back and let her.


Nowadays there is nothing,

Which is the preserve of the male,

Because not only can she do it,

She does it more efficiently as well.


She'll mend the car and build a house,

And do it all in a trice,

Do the plu...

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Also by Ledger de la Bald:

Ode To Keighley |

Beryl's laugh


spills out of the cafe

bouncing off formica tables

wreathed in steam from pint-sized mugs of tea

rolls out across the concourse

to dance in autumn sunshine

prancing round the buses that will leave

from this place no-one’s heard of

to another one no-one knows


and the drivers smoking cigarettes

and the mothers who are barely more than girls

and ...

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We need to walk a pilgrims way,

Hard firing for we men of clay,

A palmers cross and scallop shell,

To close and clasp the gates of hell.


Celestial towers beyond each cloud,

The trumpets sounding clear and loud,

The golden footpath leading on,

Bright dreams eternal, all doubts gone.


But pilgrims roads have chasms deep,


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President Kennedy

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President Kennedy, won’t you come back to me

Tell me all you know,

Tell me about Marilyn Monroe


Tell me about Oswald, Ruby and J Edgar Hoover,

The CIA and their secret manoeuvres

Tell me about Dealey Plaza and the Dallas motorcade

Tell me about Elm Street and your final wave


President Kennedy, won’t you come back to me

Tell me all you know,

Tell m...

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JFKJohn F kennedyMarilyn Monroe

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