Poetry Blogs (May 2013)

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golden goodbye

To me,

death will always be illogical,

moreso,with reference to beauty.


On one occasion

I watched death slowly filling a beautiful friend.


Watching this illogical happening

staggered my breathing.

Watching this and being watched

by his eyes that gradually succumbed to stoney stillness

made us both obligatory participants.

Me in sorrow,him in n...

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52 Hertz

my own private calvary

every lamppost begets a graveyard

a thick bottomed slice of burnt offerings

to the insect gods

upon seeing this the blackened birds drop

eating, now,

from a sugared spoon


the wind comes from nowhere and just holds me

a manly duality, with a laissez faire sexuality

and when it drops those birds settle on my

fingers and cough for my attention

far too ...

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Also by Paul Sands:

theta wave | may it never, yet it does | Good Morning, Good Morning | Quietly, I |


entry picture
By Nick Armbrister
Zoos Comet
Her empty lies mean more than all the halls of silence.
We've been shafted, double penetrations are the worst.
Are they excited at where they'll wake up after committing suicide?
No more shit.
Metallic grey sparks on metal elements realigning.

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Wrong Career . | It’s August... (by Mel) | Abyssal Edge | Karma Kill | MET | Messerschmitt Death Machine | MIRACLE | OLD HAMMER DIVINE | STONE |

adult topicsnew poem booknick armbristerpoetry


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The warmth of closing Maytime sun

Flicks through the breezy blind

As jagged, fractured, lightening thoughts

Attack my drifting mind

I lie, reclining held secure

A nest of wickered foam

Just glaze and stare, motionless there

Subconsciousness to roam

Unexpected warmth surrounds

With this the moment’s shaped

Languid limbs and slackened mouth

A body barel...

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Heaton Arts Trail News

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Here is the latest news on our contribution to the Heatons Arts Trail: -

Since our primary role will be to translate artistic products into words of poetry, I think our general theme should be ‘synaesthesia’ – that is, the translation of one artistic medium into another. This would work in two ways:

The translation of musical performance into poetry. The translation of art/artist...

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Also by Stockport WoL:

June Meeting |

Heatons Arts Trail





cinema plex


circus seats

someone  else's  seats

being there

being there as the lights go down


 pull apart silver

dust moties

no smoking

this film has been passed



picture this

If the ship fits let it be Titanic


talking dogs

family snaps

Baby stood in a corner and would not ...

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Also by mark littler:

Rustam and Sohrab | telling of insects |

The Spirit of the Road

This is the first poem in my new e-book On The Verge, which I am selling to raise money for a Black Rhino conservation project in Africa.  You can buy the book for under £2 here: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/317217  and it can then be downloaded onto just about any computer, smart-phone, tablet or e-reader.

The Spirit of the Road.


Everything’s got a soul you know.


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From A High Window

Standing on the wide grey hill

The noontide skyscape hangs heavily

Like fog crafted from artists’ hands

Cities of unease hang invisible in the air.


They pour scorn on every hope in his heart

Picturing clouds unfurling with time

And shades of black rolling in on him.


A binocular gazer, from a high window

In the distance

Watches and waits, careful a...

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Also by David Blake:

Kiribati |

52 Hertz

ALONG THE ROAD - with acknowledgements

Following the loss of her husband of many years, my sister received the following poem by Robert Browning

Hamiliton in a message of condolence from a friend.  I post this with acknowledgements to its author as a

prime example of how "less can be more".


I walked a mile with Pleasure.

She chatted all...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


Dostoyevski's Chicken

Dostoyevski’s Chicken


Ladies and Gentlemen

Boys and girls

In this space and around the world

Raise your hands

Let flags unfurl

For Dostoyevski’s Chicken


She can sing – she can dance

She’s signed up for a comedy romance

A billion web views – not by chance

For Dostoyevski’s Chicken


Here’s a fowl you all can rate

She’ll never end up...

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Also by Marksy:

My Obsession (Again) | (Be my) Only One | The Misfits (going awol) | We're Northerners, us |

Cheryl ColeDostoyevskiGraham NortonJonathan RossOne DirectionSimon CowellThe Sun

page 6 the beast

The Beast


Through the land carved the mighty beast

Devouring a life with every feast

The beast ate and ate and ate, its only thought was how to feed

And it grew with all it ate

And as it grew so grew its hate

But its intentions never spoken, it hides behind a need, its name cast in gold, Greed


Since when Greed suppressed the day

And ordered Work to mu...

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Also by Daniel Carr:

Under The Blue Veil | Monkey Town Madness |


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I have an eidetic memory which is similar to a photographic memory.

Apparently useful if you work for MI5 !

I can remember all the kind positive comments left on my poems left previously and I appreciated every single one of them.

Eidetic memory remembers the spoken word, I also remember all situations, places I have been and can also bring an almost identical picture to my mind.


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One More Baby Means One More Tomb

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One More Baby Means One More Tomb


Vast, swelling, productive wealth

Cheaper goods imported

The shoes on my feet

The app on my phone

That monitors my menstrual cycle

Power in my hand.


In China

A Womans fertility

Is under surveillance

Checked by family planning officers

If you fall pregnant

The state knows


On a surgical table


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baby one child policy


I sit on the rustic park bench          

that gives me splinters                    

to watch the world go by.                

Families pass, as do couples         

many hand in hand                           

oblivious to my sigh.                       

The only solitary figure                     

am I on this spring day                   

I know that's how it ...

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Also by Lynn Dye:

perspective |

52 Hertz

The Sparkle

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The Sparkle


The Sparkle,

silver starlight in your eyes,

a soft touch

before we say goodbye.

It’s over too fast,

I hope this feeling will last

until the morning


The Sparkle

of teardrops on your cheek.

All my tears,

the happiness I seek

was over so fast,

I hope this pain won’t last

until the morning


The Sparkle,


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Also by Ian Whiteley:

A Step Towards Summer | I Wish I Had A Harley | In The Belly Of The Whale | Noticed | Deadly Nightshade | That Which Autumn Leaves | Eyrie Avenue | Shy Ann | Lair Of The Snow Spider | The Cause Celebre | Azrael | Marks In The Sand |




ten past nine

i wait by the smell of the oils drying

and look at my fingers

think how the paint patterns of accident

look better 

than the offering on the board.

look at the lines drawn

in colour

on the fat side of my thumb.

The mount of venus

where all ideas of love begun.

they are still young, just weary

my fingers can easy bend 

and b...

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Also by Rachel Bond :

whalesong | white noise (letters) | Hidden Song of the Godhead |

Reflecting on Heroes

Reflecting on Heroes
by, Melissa R. Mendelson
Time to reflect on their sacrifice. 
The newspaper headline 
is a bullet penetrating deep darkness of reality 
that war is not gone, 
and it’s not forgotten. 
We still rage battles, 
battles that will forever 
define heroes, 
but the villains live on. 
And they refuse to die, 
so we can’t give up...

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Two Seagulls Flying 


Two seagulls flying, flew down to the beach

They ate fish and chips from the chippy

Then after that, they tried some ice cream

A choc-ice and some Mr Whippy

They flew down again the very next day

This time they ate Pizza and Pastie

They were too stuffed to fly so they both hitched a ride 

On the roof of a slow passing taxi


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Also by Ste J Bee:

Little Ben |

Knitting A Poem

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Hello WOL chums - long time no hear from Fifi. Apologies for that - making a living got in the way of having a life. But I had to share this with you: Ian McMillan (yes, the Ian McMillan) re-tweeted a poem of mine, so I'm as happy as a cat with two tails! The poem was inspired by watching Karen Alderson knitting during a get-together at an Arvon course run by WOL's very own Julian Jordon with F...

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Please don’t film me I don’t wish to be

Connected infected much rather rejected

than play any part in your puerile

so called immediacy or Art.

YouTube generation, god give them detention

for anything goes from delivering weak prose

to dispatching old souls


Taboo we may as well strip and replace it with sick

that’s what they say the youth of today

when d...

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Also by Richard Alfred:

Never For Ever | I AM | Written in Stone | Mother's Autumn | Cruel Impossible Love | Seahorse | Padlock |

I am You

I am the thought

I am the instant

I am the fleeting moment

I am deep inside the feeling

The feeling of you


I am the air

I am the breath

I am the swelling of your lungs

I am the sweet sensation on your lips

The words you speak for me


I am the deed

I am the action

I am the motion of your body

I am the drive that makes you go


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"As Sure As God's In Gloucester..."

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(I'd never heard the saying until a recent visit there)


The chanting in the cloister

The pealing of the bell,

As sure as God’s in Gloucester

So all with Gloucester’s well.


It’s said that God in Heaven

Benignly chose this place

This city by the Severn

To domicile his grace.


So many towers skywards tilt

As to the clouds they’ve clawed


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Also by John Coopey:

1069 And All That | Filey | Your First Hut Is The Cheapest | Dick |

Love is many things

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Love is many things,

But not an extract or a selection.

Love is complete.


Love is belief and trust,

Not demanding and expecting.

Love is total.


Love is making people happy,

Not seeking happiness.

Love is consuming.


Love is compassion and forgiveness,

Not deference, submission and duty.

Love is unconditional.


Love is benevol...

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Everybody needs a birra' space .... don't they ???? .......




I’m going to find me a place

A place with space.

A place with space

Where I can face

My demons.

On my own.

All on my own.

On my own

I know

But I won’t be lonely.


I’ll have grown.

Grown, shown,

I can manage

On my own.

And exorcise

My gh...

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Also by Pete Slater:


The Lion Drinks

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I've been blank paper
at the water's edge
waiting for the love letters to be written
to be written over me
I've been the moronic vaccuum
on the dance floor
slipping over in my spilling smiles
spilling all over me
When the devil drinks
I drink
when the lion drinks
this town sinks
I've been trying to get off
this carrousel that...

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Also by Tom Alexander:

Lost Letter, Found | Fascinator Moon | All The Forgotten Novels |

Liverpool Street


I’m looking deep.
Your eyes.
Puffed, crowed
and wet.

We sit near the steps.
Silk Cut comforted.
The blue plumes
of Liverpool Street.

Grass marks on jeans,
your boots unpolished,
from where they kicked me.
Hard and mean.

I lie and say
I love you.
Your bowed head,
refuses away.

You can’t let go.
His punch,
His spit.
I did not know.


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Also by Ralph Dartford:

David Bowie at 66 | As If Dancing To Basie | Death at the Riverside | Baltimore |

Walk Loosely To The Light

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photo credit: AEI 

Walk Loosely To The Light

Biography and biology unfold and we

Find us bound in habit

Tied to identity


Their story



What turns us inside

What makes us crazy

Makes us remember


Walk loosely

A tall elegant griot advised

Let it hang

Push meaning

Fire is needed more than light

So orange l...

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Also by J. Otis Powell‽ (with interrobang):

Down To Da Sky | FOUR X a.k.a. This Damn World | Repost: |

HeartlandLoose WalkMinnesnowtasolsticeurban farmersurban forest

Sappho Rose Review


"Sappho... in Nine Fragments" by Jane Montgomery Griffiths
Directed by Jessica Ruano
At the Rose, Bankside 21st May - 2nd June 2013
Victoria Grove lit up the stage one year ago as the eponymous "La Chunga" and now she returns in a second run of the one-woman play "Sappho.... in Nine Fragments" following an earlier run this year a...

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52 Hertz

It's not the days

it's the minutes.

The days can be managed

to have shape, content



But the minutes can be hell.

The wolf howls at the moon

circled by Command Module pilots

so far from humanity.

Six lonely men, enduring their forty seven dark minutes.

But even they were loved.

Their lives had flavour,

they knew the intimacy...

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Also by Dave Bradley:

The Night Bus Driver |

52 Hertz

Love Spent



Leave your mark under my skin

Oh my


how strong you are




feast your eyes on my disdain

And hope this one won't scar

I will never belong to you, again

I will never belong to you,




if you still need my pain

Cause I will never tell


So scream if you still hate my name


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Also by Chris Heidtbrink:

Forever Tainted Revisited | The Devine Division | The Beast Within | Son Or Daughter | The Hate Within | Walk Me Home | A Needless Pain | My Sacrifice | Untitled | My Whispered Goodbye | Untitled | Untitled | Too Many Hurt | A Moon Lit Sky | A Verdict Chosen Revisted! |




I don’t doubt,

I don’t doubt at all that

Atrocities are carried out by

All who claim to know,

For they feed it –

To each and every-one – still,

When you see the big picture,

The real story behind the gore,

You’ll not want for war,

You’ll not want the macabre images

Hollywood cries for,


I saw once upon many moons ago,

The re...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Bearings |

Symphony of the Elements

The orchestra of wind blowing

Through lush green trees

Builds from a whisper

To a forte with ease.


Lightning casts a blinding light

In white dangerous rhythm

Thunder drums quietly, then boom

In crescendo to the anthem.


Maestro of land, sea and sky

Of many living sounds and sights

Living, breathing symphonie's

Singing lullabies at nights.


And then ...

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She Rides

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She rides in the dark of the night,

on her newly broken steed,

lines on her face so deep,

tracing every life she'd ever lived.

With a heart of gold

and soul of an angel,

she's never been cornerned,

being alone,

is her destiny.


Her heart racing,

her steeds hooves pounding,

galloping along a darkened beach,

waves crashing on the shore,


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A Keeper's View


When you first passed through them
All butterflies and sparkling eyes,
Bouncing bundles of boundless potential 
In sharp creases and glistening shoes,
You will barely have noticed, the silent sentries
Marking the boundary between your worlds
Of heavenly refuge and interminable imprisonment.
Back and forth for years, growing as you go 
Like a tide, eac...

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gatesleaversleavingSchoolschool daysteachers

Of Katy and Narcissus (52 hertz)


In the gloom of dell

Command and repeat the spell

That held the blaze

Of you and me


Why did I jump so bold into your arms?



In the forest of grief

Tear and scatter the leaf

That held the hope

Of you and me


What made you torment both our souls?



In the river of vigour

Fade and smote the figure


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Also by Katy Megan Hughes:

The Oak Tree III | Morning Shower | Voices |

52 Hertz

things i'd not want others to know number 2

when im looking into the mirror pointing and saying YOUR MORE PATHETIC THAN ME !

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in the dark for ages. |

At the Beat of a Drum

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At the beat of a drum,
The world changed,
Blamed on many,
Caused by few.

At the still of a heart,
The world stopped,
Spun by many,
Ceased by two.

At the loss of a soul,
The world cried,
Tears of many,
All for you.


Dedicated to the family and memory of Drummer Lee Rigby, born July 1987, senslessly taken from the world, 22nd May 2013

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Also by Simon Austin:

Sultress | My Beautiful Lie | Animals | The Addict | Danse Macabre (The Dance of Death) |



If only you could have swum faster baby

and outpaced the determined hunters.


Killer whales are not guilty.

Their nature is being hungry and beautiful.


Soon,time won't belong to you anymore

immense clouds of your blood and attacked flesh

will be made to hover momentarily in the deep,as


Mother looks on

in gigantic helplessness

pouring out her ...

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52 hertz

I entered the cage instead of a wild beast,...

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I entered the cage instead of a wild beast,

Burned out my term and moniker by nail in barrack,

lived by the sea side and played the roulette,

had dinner, hell knows with whom, in a frock coat.

From the height of a glacier I watched half of the world,

three times was drowning and twice was ripped.

Left the country in which I was nursed.

A city can be made out of...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Tomorrow I Will Retire |




Bite, fight, pick your nose, destroy the garden, tear your clothes,
pout, shout, spit your greens, scare your nana, cause a scene,
sick, kick, wet your pants, play with mud, set fire to ants,
smoke, toke, stay out late, upset police, go on blind dates,
worry, hurry, come to stay, call a doctor, waste your pay,
sigh, cry, cause a fuss, fork out for flowe...

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Also by Mike Morris:

Outside My Window |

lifeperformance poetryPoem

So Why do I Write

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So why do I write?

I am not a poet,

but I write a

lot of poetry.


So why do I write?

I write to

show my

point of view.


So why do I write?

Sometimes it's to

feel like I have

a small amount

of control.


So why do I write?

I write what

I feel.



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Also by Shirley Smothers:

Christ Love in lamp shape | Lanterne Poem |


As if to care

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Was I the only one now on the beach?

She had stood behind me,

we had both waited- awkwardly.

She decided then to go,

I surmised- by the sound that

the soft tread of departure makes

on sand...


Sunsets care nothing for dimming shadows

nor waves sigh, that they must lap and fill

the printed pools left by feet.

How hard to turn and not look

back to ...

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

The votive offering | 00:01 |

sun is on your side.

How they smash at the windows

With claws as long as memories.

Letting out screams that sound as familiar as

The one sided talks we used to have.

Syncronised soul squeezing life out with my last wheeze,

Choosing to fight no more this disease,

You see, maybe you cried for me.

But maybe you didn't

And that's not something I'm willing to risk.

Kickstart the stop,...

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My thoughts on Bolton's NEO:LIVE


Scott Devon and Neoartists have made a friendly, caring, supportive and fun space for poets with the NEO:LIVE event in Bolton. I heartily recommend it. Nat and Paul Blackburn were excellent, well-organised hosts and will be guest poets at the next one in June. I'll be going to cheer them on. 
Bolton is easier to get to from Manchester than Manchester folk might think, a few q...

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boltonguitarneoopen micpaul blackburnpoempoetryscott devonsong

Black Jack

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Mean and moody,

myterious and handsome,

so they call you Black Jack,

do you fancy a game ?


Cool as a cucumber,

disinterest in your look,


I know what you're thinking,

do you fancy some lust ?


Think you'll break my heart in two,

in you,

I can not trust,


the passion you've stirred in me,

electricity running through my ve...

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The help.

He takes the world personally. Almost in tears. I wish he was here. I don't understand. I feel for the kin.

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Also by Miss:

The image to the right. | Diseased. | (untitled) | The broody season. |

Gull Beach

Gull Beach


The three of gulls have flapped it southwards.

With eyes that see fairly and clearly

Only now and again


I look upon the seas cold castle and gallery.

It’s beginning to rain.

A cavalcade of slack-skinned cattle


Surprise me coming down the grey platform,

Sand spreading beneath their hooves,

Shaggy burgundy and white,



Read and leave comments (1)

Also by connor.may.cm@gmail.com:

Crab Fisherman |

Upside Down In The Sink


Upside Down in the Sink


Once again this week, I espied a wonderful notice,

this time in a Stockport café

which was an absolute delight to read….

It was along these lines (more or less as it was written):


“All staff to rinse out tea pots

and stand upside-down in the sink”


Well! A poem begging to be written

and here it is:




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Also by Dorinda MacDowell:

Parking |

The Spectacle

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I rarely do preamble but feel the need here.  

Our poetry night moved venue a month back, and in so doing we moved to a function room that the pub owners had named and decorated as 'the spectacle'.  

So what I hear you ask?

I wanted to write something with that title in mind.  In so doing I came up wth the idea of a poet in the audience - as yet unheard, becoming the greatest perfor...

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Also by Chris Co:

ThePoetry Spoke - Open mic - £40 cash prize & Guests! |


entry picture

I don't intend to die, for I have much to finish first.
But if you plan my funeral, if worst should come to worst,
I want some decent hymns, some "Love Divine"s, and "Guide me, O"s.
Say masses for my soul (for I shall need them, heaven knows),
And ring a muffled quarter-peal, and preach a sermon next
(“Behold, that dreamer cometh” should be given as the text),
Then draw a splendid hatc...

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Also by Marnanel Thurman:

in my head, scribbled down |

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