Poetry Blogs (Sep 2012)
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."
Sunday 30th September 2012 10:15 pm
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
Sunday 30th September 2012 9:22 pm
Also by Ray Miller:Pareidolia | Crickets | Vogue |
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.
Sunday 30th September 2012 7:11 pm
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
Sunday 30th September 2012 4:28 pm
Also by M.C. Newberry:ROCHDALE AHOY! | HEARTBREAK ETCHED IN STONE | GRAVE WORDS | DARK AND LIGHT | THE MAJOR POLITICAL PARTIES |
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...
Sunday 30th September 2012 2:20 pm
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 |
(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!
Sunday 30th September 2012 12:34 pm
Also by John Coopey:The Week We Should Have Played The Lottery | Shandy Man | George Best |
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...
Sunday 30th September 2012 10:27 am
Also by Paul Sands:The Dark Matters | Nada | Did You Hear Something? |
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 ...
Sunday 30th September 2012 9:56 am
Also by Katy Megan Hughes:By the wayside | Dichotomy | Conditioning | Sea |
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...
Sunday 30th September 2012 8:37 am
Also by Dave Dunn:No Perfect System | Lining The Pockets | Our Carefree Play | Night & Day |
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...
Sunday 30th September 2012 1:07 am
Also by Words Escape Me:Spanish Dolls |
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...
Sunday 30th September 2012 12:24 am
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...
Saturday 29th September 2012 2:29 pm
Also by NICK ARMBRISTER:Old Skool | Met | TREASURE | Belgrade | My Darkness | New | NIGHT OUT | OUR STREET | UNTITLED |
To allow the thunder to strike me
I must dismiss it
With silence not fear
Mustn’t let my ears fool my heart
Into fooling my head
I’ll let the vibration take me
While the heat pushes the air
To my ears
Now that’s what I call Music
Saturday 29th September 2012 2:26 am
Friday 28th September 2012 4:41 pm
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...
Friday 28th September 2012 3:53 pm
Also by Dorinda MacDowell:A Boy And His Dog | Lost Spring |
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.
Friday 28th September 2012 2:59 pm
Also by Nicky Burrows:I Shared | What if..... |
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.
Low lit square at 3AM
Carriage pulls up
Friday 28th September 2012 2:15 pm
Also by Matt Tilke:The Meeting |
Friday 28th September 2012 12:17 pm
Also by Marianne Daniels:Snow Fox | A Speck of Dirt | Meadow Lane | Requiescat | Inanimate | Through the Parting Grey |
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
Friday 28th September 2012 8:26 am
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.
Thursday 27th September 2012 11:52 pm
Also by Tim Brenan:Fast food in Sussex | Poems on 45 | Bickeigh |
A little poem that is very much not in my usual style!
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.
I find I can’t keep away from you,
and I have so much work to do these days...
Thursday 27th September 2012 5:51 pm
He looks like Tony Curtis
would have looked
if Tony Curtis
had not been Tony Curtis.
Thursday 27th September 2012 4:46 pm
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...
Wednesday 26th September 2012 2:49 pm
Also by Philipos:ECHOES. |
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.
Wednesday 26th September 2012 1:32 pm
When I look
"I'm just not
Wednesday 26th September 2012 11:45 am
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...
Tuesday 25th September 2012 10:38 pm
Great poetry and acoustic music
This Tuesday - 25th September (Tonight!) - doors open 8pm
Egremont Ferry Hotel
Wallasey- The Wirral
CH44 1DF (a stones throw over the Mersey from Liverpool)
Check us out in the gig guide...
Our Guest Poet
'Spiritually strong, yet humanly fragile'. Philosophically ...
Tuesday 25th September 2012 3:18 pm
Also by Chris Co:Wirral Ode Show Open Mic September- plus poetry filming. |
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...
Tuesday 25th September 2012 1:31 pm
The first cut is brutal
always deep with cold
blade tearing into timber
opening a pathway
for subtler strokes
slicing with sharpness,
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...
Monday 24th September 2012 10:41 pm
Also by David Subacchi:SEPTEMBER | CASTING LOTS |
There is one scoffing,
high and winsome
even now about the town-
pointing, looking, directing traffic
this way, that way up and down-
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
Monday 24th September 2012 9:13 pm
Also by Tommy Carroll:recovery |
A small bud, withered
But just a few drops of rain
I was inspired to write
this haiku after reading
Nigel Astell's poem/comment
on my poem "Despair".
Monday 24th September 2012 8:01 pm
Also by Shirley Smothers:Despair |
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 ...
Sunday 23rd September 2012 9:48 pm
Also by Lynn Dye:Crescent Moon (Rewrite) | heritage sun | Can't Beat Experience | Greengage Anyone? | Crescent Moon |
Outside my door. ..............666 .............maybe the thief was right. ..............no new tricks. Poop!
Sunday 23rd September 2012 9:12 pm
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...
Sunday 23rd September 2012 6:07 pm
This little girl be no strange little girl,
She is a baby,
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...
Sunday 23rd September 2012 11:34 am
Also by Noetic-fret!:Feeling and Reason |
Does anyone use digital media to down load poetry on the move?
Is there a site /app/ device etc you would recomend?
Saturday 22nd September 2012 10:17 pm
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
Saturday 22nd September 2012 10:35 am
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...
Friday 21st September 2012 10:50 pm
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...
Friday 21st September 2012 6:54 pm
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...
Friday 21st September 2012 12:49 pm
Also by tina:Garston town | justice for the 96 | Not plain Jane |
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,
Friday 21st September 2012 9:09 am
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...
Friday 21st September 2012 7:03 am
Also by Ann Foxglove:nimrod | gulls |
Wednesday 19th September 2012 12:42 pm
Also by Joy Claypool:No Time For Mistakes. |
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...
Wednesday 19th September 2012 9:03 am
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,
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...
Tuesday 18th September 2012 6:07 pm
Tuesday 18th September 2012 7:01 am
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...
Monday 17th September 2012 3:17 pm
Also by Ledger de la Bald:Ode To Keighley |
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
Monday 17th September 2012 11:24 am
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,
Monday 17th September 2012 10:10 am
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,
Sunday 16th September 2012 10:43 pm