Poetry Blogs (Jan 2013)

Popular last 30 days

The paint and the past

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The wind it tackles

The leaves and the litter

The leaves and the litter

The leaves and the past


The sun it dries

The paint and the puddles

The paint and the puddles

The paint and the past


I saw the land quickly approaching

the bend in the river

that soon would be passed

I saw her look

I knew she was leaving

The leaves and the puddl...

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

Scales | Scales | Going knowing gone | Benefit cuts | Lovely Vale Park | What lay beneath | Advice to women |

Cat Competition Extended Deadline

A couple of WOL's hardiest veterans have spotted that the competition has attracted just 4 entries and have said strongly that the deadline should be extended (you know who you are and thanks for the interest!)

Therefore, to celebrate a cat's amazing possession of 9 lives, the deadline will be extended to 9th Feb (a Saturday). As well as the original themes, the poem may also be about or co...

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Also by Dave Bradley:

Jumping the queue | Cat. Prize competition last few days | Oddle Poddle | The Last Kiss | Cat. Prize competition |

Cat comp

Going Home Time

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When I was with the Coal Board I worked for some right bastards. 

This wasn’t unusual.  The Coal Board’s cultural style was what management gurus euphemistically call “heroic”.  Managers were bastards and, to succeed, staff needed to emulate them if they wanted to become managers.

One particular manager I worked for could have made my life a misery were it not that I were so...

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Also by John Coopey:

Samantha Louise and Sweet Sarah Jane | Hotel Fawlty Towers | Old Ladies | Honduras | Penis Penis | You've Met The Met | Gays (No Sex Please - We're Bishops) | Mr Gabardine Man - Part 2 | Sell-By Dates - The Great Rip-Off |

Rzhepicks 2013

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So many faces I’ve seen!

Now I do believe Darwin.


The patient was treated for jaundice,

The autopsy showed he was Chinese.


Rotten is well hidden and forgotten.


Do you mind?

Or you don't mind

because you don't have mind?


The wor...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

In the Beginning Was the Word... | Tomorrow | Rzhepicks 2013 |



Lady Jane Grey was little more

than a holiday home, a change of air;

Elizabeth Woodville was Long Stay –

students dreaded placement there.

Hers was a thicker atmosphere: moon-fogged

with menace throughout the year.

It’s the Western Australian Blue Mist, Doctor,

or else I’m losing my eyesight.


When a man said he wanted to meditate

it meant he wanted to ...

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Legally Tender

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The key of currency
is the changing of hands,
a baton passed on
in constant motion
that binds together
all its participants.

A fresh, crisp bill
is a virgin still,
between your fingers
whose anticipation
and epic journey
are yet to unfold.



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Special force

I HATE love.

The way it clings to me.

Covertly finding a way in.

Gradually displacing my love of hatred.


Fuck!.......you see?


there it is again!

oh! the crafty beautiful bastard!

Read more …

My son's first love


I said to myself I would like you

After all

We had both been swimming

Against a tide

A thing worth having…

And all that


 ‘There isn’t a girl in this world that doesn’t like me’

I said to him

Wanting that to be true

And one day in floats you

Quietly striding the breadth

Of the living room


Expecting to see a monster


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To chase or not to chase ?That is the question.

Serious accidents involving police chases are more common than you think.

The pursued in a panic to get away drive to the brink.

A stampede ignites in the perpertrators brain and panic sets in,

Innocent lives abruptly ended,completely destroyed, a sin !


6/01/13  South London

A positive hit on the police car's automatic number recognition system percipitates panic,


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Also by hugh:

A miracle recovery for baby Sam | Clare Foges -this girl is on fire. | Anaesthetised !! | The last whine ! | Stamina rebuild advice for Stan the" stallion" goes wrong | Tasty Equine Segments,Customer Outrage !! | Accrington Victoria Hospital | The loneliness of Lucy | Is your driving licence valid ? | A callous and cowardly crime committed in Greenford, West London - 19/11/12. |

Each Branch I Snap


each branch I snap spills
accusations of every broken neck I ever wished
so out of politeness I bow my head
to show the dotted line,
the hemp tattooed severance knot;
that grace, which allows my hands
such time to forsake the face
of saved history
when everyday swings
the way of an ending that wont be changed
the grass, as always, redder
on that...

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Also by Paul Sands:

Iced | tallulah zeitlos | We Chose Hooks | Policy | Trip | Eye |

ageingbitternessjealousymalicemissed opportunitiesMoving onregretresignationresistance

How We Used To Live



                          How We Used To Live.


                          When bestiaries were commonplace

                          and symbolised a path to grace,

                          the sheen that lights a raven’s wing

                          was held to be a common thing;

                          until such features lost ...

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The Giant Slayer

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The Giant Slayer
Eighty centimetres tall that’s all he is, that makes me a giant, a real life giant
Just to compare….. If he was my height I’d be over 12 feet tall
This Giants not a big scary giant though, this is a cuddly giant
A funny giant, a dancing giant, a laughing giant and one that snores in the morning
“WAKE UP DADDY!” that’s what he shouts f...

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Also by Ged Thompson/ A Liverpool Poet:

My Dragon | Blue Lights, No Siren | The Latest Craze | Caught Between The Devil And A Dragon | How brave a poet | Four Leaf Clover | Rekindle cake (plus video performance attached at bottom) | Goodness Gracious - a video poem by Ged Thompson | While you sleep |


Sexy at Sixty

I was fit and feisty at fifty
It was no big deal
Because that's how half a century
Is supposed to feel.

In my sixties I'll take stock
Start making great plans
Ignoring all the 'you can'ts'
And embracing all the 'I cans'.

Can I be sexy at sixty?
And try all the fashions and fads
Wear stockings and suspenders
And Joan Collins shoulder pads.

I can deal with sexy at si...

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Also by Hazel Connelly:

No Simple Life | Faded Firelight | Edward | ROBERT BURNS | The Grass Is Greener |


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I'm the defective detective.

I marvel at the whiteness of frozen snow.

Left right upper leg.

Do you like beer?

No I like Ricky Gervais.

I'm inside the tumble dryer spinning in space.

Just made a hillinit bloody hooooot.


Why do I let the last 5 years drag me down?

Chained to me,

self destroying me from within.


I'm the Phantom Ray...

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Sky Fight | poems from my new book THE RANTINGS OF A DAMAGED MIND co wrote with Mel... | PLANET EARTH | FLY | Cyanide Footsteps, Arsenic Touch | New Beginnings (by Mel) | Daddy's Poem by unknown poet | my new poem book co written with Mel Grobler |

different linesdifferent topicsfunnygibberish poem

The End but not the Means

Bright blue veins stretch a map across her belly,

giving no indication what’s happening underground.

Her hand cups the full-moon, the cusp of new life;

the woman dreams as cells are dividing, beginning.


A sudden panic of white coats round a monitor,

two on the phone, the others inflated with facts.

The woman no longer exists, she’s just a vessel grown in size


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babybirthcaesarean sectionmotherhoodsurgery

A Haiku: Political Correctness Gone Mad

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Streaker on the news.

Epileptics warned against

Flashing images.

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Also by Mark Niel:

The Girl on the Jubilee Line |

The Prawnmen And The Press Gangs


     A couple of hundred years ago, and a decade or two on top of that, the Poole Prawnmen found themselves in a perplexity. And there was a very good reason for that: it was all because of the King wanting to be at war with the French at that time. That was one of their traditions y'see – it had been going on for centuries that the English and the French took it in turns to declare war o...

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Also by Ledger de la Bald:

Rum, Weedy and Bilgewater | A Tradition Saved |


Do tell me where I am, he said;
the men wear bras upon their head.
I said, I'm sure of where you are:
the Scottish town of Head-in-Bra.

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Also by Marnanel Thurman:

Margaret | Pop Up Poetry video | Thomas Malthus | Ambition | Horatius |

Way Back Home

There’s always a way back home.

Maybe no one told you

But cement and brick last a long time,

Even when neglected.

You can disappear for a year or ten

Then come back again, to the street,

And watch history repeat

As memories breathe through old concrete.

And maybe it’ll seem strange to meet,

After all it was there I learnt life can be like

Spoilt conjoined...

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Also by Wez Jefferies:

Fashion antithesis | 'Cos it's the ones that love you |

free verselovereflection


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In this cold darkness
Serene and fragile, I breathe the dust
Coming from the lamp above
Floating in peace and harmony
When you come home now
A glimpse of the void, in the large gap
Left by your carelessness
Portal closes, breathe again now
Sit by candlelight
Honed by your expectation, it's come
Show me your true behaviour
Jump around...

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Also by David Blake:

Futile Boundaries | Orange Garden | The Intruder |


Truth often comes in drag - as a paradox

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By 5.45pm on a bitterly-cold day recently, following a call to the car mechanic, I'd had enough. Nothing was going right. Not the three new poems I was working on.  Not my car. Nothing.

New furry hat on (thanks, Oonagh) then up the hill I went to the MASSIVE Ss Peter and Paul Church, New Brighton, Wirral (well, if you're gonna do 'Church Triumphant' you might as well do it New Brig...

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Also by Steve Regan:

Such misery - in Goole, Hull and Wigan |

city in the sand

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There is a city, hidden in the sand

where few have visited. I understand

it glitters in the scorching noonday sun.

To find it is the dream of anyone

who feels that they deserve great wealth,

who follow, creeping like a sphinx, in stealth

to enter through the golden portals great -

answer a riddle and confirm their fate.

The city’s treasures are truly renown...

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Also by Ann Foxglove:

january fairy | dead sheep |

citiessandwoman power

Turn of the year

Grasping at half-conscious illusions,

The new year arcs through the post-Christmas crash,

As philosophical ironies regarding love appeared before, 

The most voluptuous scene, 

And whether this love sought others, 

Or only itself to please, 

The difference is not always clear.


As such, the turn of the year has all watching, 

As the time for a fresh start is ...

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Also by Joshua Van-Cook:

The passing of the minute |


The sound of running footsteps,

"No, no, please don't" - then a scream.

The knives were out to kill that shout

And murder the hope and the dream.

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Also by M.C. Newberry:



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Like a pristine field of snow

you glare back at me and I know

that even with the greatest will

I’ll never get the words to spill

upon your virgin gown.


I want to smudge the ashes of my dreams

upon your frigid, frozen streams

that when the summer sun’s aglow

lap gently with a lazy flow

caressing inspiration from my brow.


My ...

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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Vermin | Yggdrasil | Twelfth Night |

frustrationwinterwriters block

Sea Battle


Salt spray the sensation you’d think to miss,

the heaving deck your only anchor

as the sun rises on set sails

and the canon roars.


A shout into oblivion, the black

trajectory of the missile falling

short, creating a fountain of brine

while the mate mouths

oaths and the captain shouts.


Blood on the decks as all hands

wield mops and pails ...

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Also by Tony Earnshaw:

Olympics in Dorking |

The cat, the damselflies, and the deer

That Google thrill;

seeing your name overtake

drain clearers, garage owners,

estate agents, even playwrights.

Habit had to be fed,

became second nature.

Alarmingly easy. Just change

a location, you’re on to a winner.


Imitation built a growing

reputation; flattery,

offers to publish

a first collection. That

MA in creative writing.


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Cat Comp


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Millions of flames.

The one left

must burn forever.

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That 'White iced Rain' ....

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....That 'White Iced Rain' is falling again,

the Winter scene all white and plain ...

That Winter white glow,

ooooo 'tis cold ya know!'

Children play snow men grow ...


Out in  morn 'where's the car'

its all so white can see so far!


Winter Woolies come out,

gloves come on,

birds fly high,


where's their bread gone!!


Scrape away...

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I felt nothing at first.
Just the loud crack of a distant whip, the echo
Bouncing through the crumbling streets and fetid alleyways,
Painted with the stench of unintentional sacrifices
And scorched by the Middle Eastern sun.
He can see me, this one, even now,
Staring down the lens like a wayward sailor scanning distant rocks for Sirens,
Tempting him to death.
He’s watching me cr...

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Also by Simon Austin:

In Your Skin | Oh Darkness, Sweet Darkness | Giants of the Earth | Mortality |



For two days and two nights we architect a megalomania

in defiance.  Disguised in stray abandon amongst oblivious streets.

Scavenging on Oxford Street you buy skinny black jeans and converse.

Just like mine. We shamelessly crawl sex shops for new toys

and sully Soho square’s benches with marijuana smoke. 

You recite poetry loudly, off the cuff of your duffle coat,

none o...

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Also by Katy Megan Hughes:

Grief | Should I tell her? | Utterly disobedient poetess... | Choice or Dilemma? |

erotic poemerotic poetrylovelove poemlove poetry

The Magician Cat

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The magician cat.

Folds it front feet underneath

where they disappear

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Cat comp


At the door you turned back to me
And smiled so I would believe.
You said you would be back by November
And it wouldn’t be another lonely winter
Without you.

Well, the leaves on the ground already came
And a cold grey sky is all that remains.

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Big and hairy

Small and smooth

We come as a pair

Dirty or clean

Our work can be seen



We do dishes

Can be soft as you like

You’ll often find us

Round an open mike

Swinging loose

Or screwed up tight

We can be left

And we can be right


Catch us in the act

You’ll find we are red

Use us to stand upright

Feel t...

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body parts

High Viz


Invisible man with low status
I need to be seen during poor lighting or weather conditions
Too retroreflective stripes
Helps to distinguish between objects and people
Work and cycling
A substance that has absorbed light
Emitting light
Still shining more in the moonlight
Than in the daylight
More easily discernible from the background
When in environ...

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Sonnet on Death

This is an ekphrasis on L'Agonie by Felicien Rops.



Sonnet on Death

Demons clutch at your rib-cage ladder

Grasping the arteries, choking your veins

Your bones are now fragile and ready to shatter

Oh dear, you're looking quite pale.

Your bloodless skin is as thin as paper

With cavities where worms slither in.

A struggling heart still resisting the Taker


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DeathEkphrasisFelicien RopsL'Agonienecrophiliasonnet

A Crying Shame

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Shame - the greatest shambles; a sham

sex and guilt, beauty and modesty; molest

pitted in the stomach like acid,

spat swallowed pity, feeding starvation, an unquenchable famish, unsensibly sore

malnourished habits die hard, and lonely, resentfully

twisting and turning and diving, deprived


Lies for eyes, for ears and the nose; twitch

flies on the flesh of ...

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Also by Ludo:

2012 | Education | The Formula for Art |


Grey Morning

She  awoke,

And thought to find in the dawn’s smoky gloom

Her  friend;

But when she touched his damp cheek

He asked, ‘Are we still in our roles?’

His shuddering breath betrayed

The cold question.

‘Yes,’ she answered kindly, ‘we are.’

But ... Oh … Oh!

The light was cruel.





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Old Laddies





Okay fine folk of Write Out Loud……….and Nick! It was bin some time nuw that myself have written anything of umour, most of my werk pondering the more makaber of lifes machinashions. To this end, myselv have conduced a piece of wirk that gos some way into eleeviating the prejudism that is a-ssosiated with the more eldery of our populous. It is a werk that took some...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

The Sad Loss | Out of Darkness | A Planet Soul of Solitude | Gulf War Syndrome (Updated) |

Winter In My Soul

Its cold outside

And Winter in my soul

The virgin snowfall numbs my thoughts

And my eyes and ears are frozen whole


Still cold and colder still

Passion frozen as passion will

And still the snowflakes fall

As silently as a snowflake tends to fall


As cold as cold can be

And the heat within means nothing

It’s the heat from a thousand words in moti...

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Also by Steve:

Ode To A Long Lost Lover | Mum | The Middle of The Night | Black Sunday | This Morning | Man In The Mirror | Past Lives | That Place |

loveLove lostsplit up

Grapes of Wrath

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It came to pass that my bum turned to farce,

A horrid soreness had came bulging through,

At first unsure, I did not have a clue

About the grapes now glowing from my arse.


It came to pass that ideal idea shone,

And cost of treatment would be just some pence,

No reason now to sit astride the fence

When cured I could be soon with problem gone.


It c...

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Also by Nick Clifton:

Foot of Snow | Cute and Slim | Ten Points | New Year Forecast |


Lily going by


(A revised post from my vanished blogs)


Hers was a beauty shear and clear and clean!

 ……………A beauty born to break

 Across the placid sight of placid men,

 Leaving such lovely turbulence in its wake

 That they be never - ever - the same again.


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Also by Harry O`N eill:

Should he go to Specsavers? |


Over weight, plump face Full plate, In front of your, 40 inch plasma, The afore, the size of your waist, Metaphorically and physicaly so, As you gorge before, Images of underprivileged folk, As you waddle past skeletons, On the high street, I hope your feet meet, The position of what your eyes see. How is it, as the world turns Calories are burned quicker, somewhere in the t...

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Across the sea

The wind that blows
in a breath of time
has no borders,
as it sings new ways
like flickering waves
across the sea.

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Also by Carla Tombacco:

In the maze |


Salsa Man

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                               Salsa Man

I got a rhythm deep inside o me

Dat mek me want ta move n dance

Mi go to da salsa class n tek a chance

I put mi dancin shoes on n me come alive

Dis bruddah is groovin n dats no jive

I got nothing ta say n I aint walkin

Im shakin my ting n lettin my feet do da talkin


Everybody is funkin n turnin up da heat 

Mi fee...

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Also by Tom Doolan:

Ma Third Eye |



Published on Halfway Down The Stairs


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Also by Laura Taylor:

Electric Blue (for Avital) |




From the shadows of everything,
kin upon skin –
here I stand, incomplete;
years of incomprehensions, unsympathetic
brittle limbs
curving in the belly of the moon.
I have three decades under my thumb;
they are light in the complexions
of others; this Chinese lantern paper
 a bold bright second
angry against the topaz sky.

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Silence | Winter Hour | Handwriting |


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photo credit: Deanna  Towne 


There is no clean slate

No blank sheets of paper

To write our lives on

We palimpsestically erase

And rewrite existence like

Painters whitewashing

And rescaping canvas

With images telling new stories

Often by another painter

In some other time

With alterative visions

No story is complete

Life goes on in ways


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Random Haikus I've posted on Facebook

Sat here on facebook.
Should be writing poetry.
"Stop messing! Start work!"


Writing a haiku
about writing a haiku
is really boring.


She always uses
angry alliteration
it's so annoying!

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Also by Matthew Derbyshire:

Inbox Me | Another Ugly Duckling | Not Good Enough |


Sappho In Nine Fragments

"Sappho In Nine Fragments" by Jane Montgomery Griffiths
Directed by Jessica Ruano at the White Rabbit Theatre
Reviewed by Alain English on 19/01/2013
After her show-stealing performance in the title role as "La Chunga", Second Skin Theatre present a one-woman show featuring the sexual enigma that is Victoria Grove.  With soft skin covering a dancer's nimble physique, her lusci...

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The Cocoon

The curtains a cocoon

which I have outgrown

crushing me

though I dare not venture out

my wings maimed

by an internal eternity.


Some days they open

as the sunlight shines

and snow falls

yet it remains a parallel world

a door to an unfamiliar universe

remains locked.


Even inside plates pile up

like a porcelain possum

they pl...

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Also by IndigoAngelUshiku:

In Soviet Russia... | That's so gay |


40 rats. again.


I have a rat in my kitchen

he's grinding his baccy stained teeth

under his sticky brown moustache

he strains his throat to speak

'you want to forget about this '

'incase you get old'

'you write a good poem, 

you have potential'.

He does a bit of this and that this rat

 nothing more penetrative

no less pervasive than a lull, a lazy dull



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Introducing Pros&Coms

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HI Everyone,

We are Pros and Coms and are new to Write Out Loud. We were told this is were the cool poets hang out and we want to hang with you. From time to time we have 5 poetry slots on our bill if you are from liverpool and the surrounding area we would invite you to be a part of it. At the minute the only reward we can offer are the sound of clapping from our lovely audience. So please...

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eventLiverpool poetrywelcome

feeling the pinch

inspired by a brilliant accidental radio remark



families living in poverty?

no one lives in poverty now

me dad was killed in the mines in ‘49

me mum had to bring up seven of us on next to nowt

I was talking with another old boy

about how tough it was in our day

how easy these young folks ‘ave it now

‘I know, ‘ ‘e says, ‘if you was cold when I w...

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"HERE" slam poetry.



Watch my video. If you want that is. It's alright.

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Recycled Prophesies (January 2013 Collage Poem)

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Recycled memories

Fall like snow


Smothered across

Degrees of memories


Bits of paper flutter

Along the pavement


Get to work, boy!


I would like to wish you all

A really nice, safe new year


Taking stock of empty boxes

Mrs Browne is a mean old witch.




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January Collage poemStockport





Thirty silent clocks;

estate of an elderly man

who hoarded time in his bungalow

until each piece was spent

and he became time bankrupt.

I choose one for its looks,

wind it up like an old fashioned toy,

smile at its resuscitated tick-tock.

But on my mantle piece

it clamours above TV and chat,

raising its voice when I leave the room


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Deep Down Inside

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Deep down


I have

no pride.


Deep down


I've taken

the slide.


Deep down


my soul

the demons

 have fried.


Deep down



Shirley Smothers



I wrote this poem a few years ago. I wrote it to be bad on purpose.

Someone rec...

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Also by Shirley Smothers:

Sweet Isabella |

Bad poetryhumorSilly

Skull Candy!!!

Skull Candy

I could stand here ranting and raving all night
just telling you how is it
you may not sympathise
you may think im a little mad
but i can tell you all this
its all a little bit sad
so please listen up and hear what i say
im gonna tell you about someone
... who is close to me you see
its my first born, my eldest my Liam and me

My son you see he's a specimin uniq...

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Also by Kerry-Marie Fisher:

soul scorcher!! | smashed | Another Year | Beneath Me | No No |


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begins dark, ends black

mistletoe rituals barren

plastic berries hang above

moonlit passionless mouths

without words  


ring out the bells,

bring out your dead

hearts stopped, enclosed in

holly red wreaths mocking

endless grief.



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Which Mask Am I Wearing Tonight?


See we've all been naive and we didn't believe

But God knows I've tried to change and to hide,

That multi layered image of me


You're dressed up to the nines with the stars in your eyes

For me, I'm as cute as a corpse in a suit,

Just trying to look a little alive


Come swish around town in your old hand-me-downs

It's a scene from...

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Also by Daniel Smith:

I'm Not John Lennon |

Wirral Ode Show - Open floor Night - January

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This Thursday Night - 17th January

'Wirral Ode Show'

poetry open mic night

8pm for an 8:30 Start


The 'Egremont Ferry Hotel'

Tobin Street


CH44 8DF

We welcome ALL poets from near and far to a warm, friendly and inclusive open mic poetry night at a wonderfully picturesque real ale pub that overlooks the river Mersey.


No closed set list...

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Praise His Name With Dancing


“Praise His Name With Dancing”


Thomas went a-dancing

One sunny Sunday morn,

All up and down the hall, for

They did not have a lawn


Quite like the Vicar had, which

Was grand, and never trod

Upon by dancing children.

Or young-at-heart – or God…..


And Thomas kept on dancing

Until he heard the call:

“It’s time for church, so Thomas...

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fortune is a fickle friend

smiles when you don't need her

leaves you like you a falling leaf

a mimicking procedure



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Night fishing




In the heat

Of it

My senses pinball


Arse to arse

As they




Around me


Stilettoed feet


And stamp

As I scan

An electric



Beneath skirts


Must obviously



I finish my



Warm swigs


Fuel a move


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entry picture

You can’t expect
To know when the ghosts will come,
When paused in the hallway
Of an elderly neighbour
The scent of white lilies
Has you unexpectedly
Clearing your throat and
Excusing your exit

How minor the threads
That can tease out tears.
How mysterious the cues
When on the grand day
Set aside for such things
The wind had you as cold as stone.

Now in a kitchen
To a symphony of warm bread
And nodding lilie...

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Also by Tom Harding:

Paxos |

Clare`s Hair

(up from the samples for a bit of air and blog-light)



(All through summer)


It`s a fall! A drop!

Sheer from the top

Joy to the sight it is.


A drape! A cape!

Sleek on her neck`s nape,

A helmet of light it is.


It`s a spilled sluice

Of gold juice

At the vintage-squeeze it is.


(The slight stir

Of one hair


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Atos - not a toss!


An evil man is I.D.S.
causing great pain and distress,
disabled people drop like flies,
it is time we heard their cries.
Fraudulent claims say government
are just nought-point-five percent,
so why treat all as if they’re bent,
guilty till proven innocent?
Six billion pounds paid to Atos,
that is quite some scandalous loss,
private compan...

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Also by Lynn Dye:

Georgie Porgey |


A plane scratches the clear blue sky

leaving a milky blemish on the virgin canvas.


A posse of rabbits bob and weave in a meadow

of buttercups and daisies

until their playtime is interrupted by the bark of a dog.

Ears alert, noses twitching and eyes scanning the terrain,

they disappear in unison to their underground bunkers.


A large bull controls the adjac...

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Poems About Poetry


There is nothing worse than

a poem about poetry.


That was until I wrote

a poem about poetry

that’s about poetry.

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[tarmac touch supply chain shackle

dead land sprung mixing

business flow pleasure

cargo fed artery drip



green belt boundary destination

misplaced motor-way expansion

catharsis false anatomy

road sweep strategy

cultural access invader hard shoulder


systematic appetite number

lowest common denominator

stamped queue disc...

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CommercialismevolutionHumanitylifeModernPeoplepoemthe cityurbanization

Again and Again

entry picture

It hurts again in my head again

Wide asleep into the bright blinding light

Sick of the sight again

Of the long cold night again

Pain an always ever

Never warm in my bed again

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the temptation of witchcraft

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full moon

Something to cheer you up....... i hope :)

Full moon

Look at that moon; it’s beautiful he said,
As he pulled the covers over his weary head,
It’s so full and round and plump and bright,
I will find it difficult to sleep tonight,

What are you on about his wife asked shy,
I see no moon up in that sky,
I only see stars and clouds and a plane,
I’m sure you’re going quite insane,

I’m not going mad, s...

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Also by tina:

Him | another summer of discontent |

Poetry Competition in aid of Cardiac Risk in the Young

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A chance to win a big cash prize, to read your poem the prize-giving event and for publication in an anthology of winning poems.  All proceeds go to Cardiac Risk in the Young.







The SCJ Poetry Prizes

The Themes: Childhood. Culture. Education. (Themes may be broadly interpreted.)

Prizes Adults: 1st £1000 2nd £700 3rd £300...

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Love And Be Loved

(Written for a friends wedding day)


Love & Be Loved


When the Black Country met Ribble Valley
From the Hyndburn district of Lancashire
An I do a yes and a kiss to digest
Was all he could ever ask of her

Do I love you on bended knee
They would guess the answer was yes
Once buried deep in a Detroit vault
All the words meant the world nonetheless

She sits ast...

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Wedding Poem Love


entry picture

I'm sorry for ignoring some. Ignoring some was not a pun. Thank you all for lovely comments, to be more sociable is a promise. New year is here, to start afresh. No mess.

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Sermo ut parietis

entry picture




How are you doing?

I’m doing nothing.

What’s going on?


How are you feeling?



Why talk to me?

Because you asked.

Do you need to tell me something?

What I had for my tea.

What is the point?

To make a point.

And what would that be?

Ham, egg and c...

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Face book

The Armed Man

The Armed Man
Stands within the shadows of the darkness his palms sweaty from clenching the rope
the rope he used upon me to bind me, to bind me, to bind me to the platform to be his sacrifice, He tied me down tight stripping and cutting away my clothes till i lay there naked breathing heavily screaming to be released
He towers over me looking down upon me, his body tort clenched with anticipation...

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Also by Anna Grinter:

can you feel it |



Dogs wade through the pond
where tadpoles fight to right themselves
swirling in clouds of grit.
Beyond the pond, 
through the trees that arc over
Doris Pastore’s bench, 
down the dew slick sloping field,
across the old leather tanning brook;
on the other side of an old wall
cars steam along the wet road.
He sits in soft...

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The Rapids.



The gentle stream it trickles calmly flowing through the valley.
The pace of life so easy now with lightweight cares to carry.
Into the river so we drift the current’s gaining speed and
then the trips a little uneasy now, we’ve got to navigate somehow.

The eddies turn we flow with them avoiding all collisions.
Quick thinking marks our every move to calculate decision.

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Times of Change


Times Of Change
He had turned his back on the watering hole
For the last time there with his work mates;
They had gathered each Friday for so many years
After closing the factory gates.
They sat in the warmth 'round the old oaken bar,
Each sipped from his cold amber glass,
And reminisced there of the week just gone by,
And quickly an hour would ...

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The New Me

entry picture

Verse one

I’m going to be a model

I’ve got a master scheme,

To nip the spots and wrinkles

And be a catwalk queen.


Verse two

I think I’ll have some botox

To end my facial frown

And then I’ll try a detox

(I can almost see my crown!)


Verse three

I’ll go for liposuction

To midriff, rear, and thighs,

It will be my introduction

To my...

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entry picture


Un café e un limoncello

A coffee and a limoncello

Dopo il pranzo

After dinner

Un café e un limoncello

I am captivated by ritual

For me food and drink

Have to mean something

Dopo il riso , dopo il vino

Per piacere, please

Un café e un limoncello

After the rice, after the wine

There’s plenty of time

For a ...

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ItalyLiverpool poetrynorth wales artsPCSoho

Eyes On A Winter Page

Eyes On A Winter Page


Your eyes are on my winter page,

Each word like breath and fallen flowers,

While I have rhymes for many needs,

And treasures for the passing hours.


And did you read Gerontius,

Where Newman spoke of raging dreams,

Where hands offend to common prayer,

And Cranmer penned the precious reams.


I ponder and I quicken wit,


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Writers Unlimited Google Community



By its nature writing is for the most part a solitary business which is why sites like WOL are great to keep in touch, share ideas, post poetry etc.

For this reason I've started a *new* community over at Google +. You may love or hate social media and personally I detest the whole Facebook thing but I have fund that the new...

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communitygoogle pluswriterswriting

Inspired by all the stuff written about E.L. James


[to the tune of Johnny Cash's "40 shades of green"]


I close my eyes as you reach

for the nipple clamps

they sting as you attach them

Have they been dipp’d in chilli?


I catch my breath and listen

as you tie me to the bed 

with barb’d wire and silk rope

the blindfold sure hurts my head


But most of all I wish to kiss

a thousand times ...

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Here is a link to my poem about a day at IKEA



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Purpose Hope Love


A sense you are important
That there is more that you must do.
A sense things could get better
Although this sense need not be true.
A sense that you are cared about,
And you care for others too,
These are my essentials of happiness,
And my New Years' wish for you.

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New year

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