Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

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 |

WOW! TATTOO MY BUTT - MORE MAD POEMS AND VERSE BY NICK By Nick Armbrister

OVER 18 ONLY
 
WOW! TATTOO MY BUTT -
MORE MAD POEMS AND VERSE BY NICK
 
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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Also by NICK ARMBRISTER:

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

new poem booknick armbristeradult topicspoetry

Sommerhaus

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

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/art...

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Also by Stockport WoL:

June Meeting |

Heatons Arts Trail

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.

The...

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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:

THE BEAST WITHIN | TRACKS | DAMBUSTER | THE MAGICAL MEDICAL MERRY-GO-ROUND |

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...

Read and leave comments (3)

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

Eidetic

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

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

Solitude

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

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,

our...

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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 |

moonlightstarssparklekisslovelostfoundfeelings

observations

 

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...

Read and leave comments (0)

TWO SEAGULLS FLYING

 

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

All...

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Also by Ste J Bee:

Little Ben |

Knitting A Poem

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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Knitting

Sick

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

Come...

Read and leave comments (0)

passionlovedesire

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

(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

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...

Read and leave comments (3)

MY PLACE

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

 

MY PLACE.

 

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.

Because

I’ll have grown.

Grown, shown,

I can manage

On my own.

And exorcise

My gh...

Read and leave comments (0)

Also by Pete Slater:

IDEAS | CATCH THE RAIN | OLD SCHOOL | COMMON OR WHAT? |

The Lion Drinks

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:

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

Walk Loosely To The Light

photo credit: AEI 

Walk Loosely To The Light

Biography and biology unfold and we

Find us bound in habit

Tied to identity

Herstory

Their story

Acculturated

Assimilated    

What turns us inside

What makes us crazy

Makes us remember

Forget

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...

Read and leave comments (0)

52 Hertz

It's not the days

it's the minutes.

The days can be managed

to have shape, content

interest

emotion.

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...

Read and leave comments (8)

Also by Dave Bradley:

The Night Bus Driver |

52 Hertz

Love Spent

Love
Spent



 

Leave your mark under my skin


Oh my



 

how strong you are



 

and



 

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,



 



Push



 

if you still need my pain

Cause I will never tell



 

...

Read and leave comments (0)

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! |

Leaving

Leaving

 

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...

Read and leave comments (3)

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 ...

Read and leave comments (2)

She Rides

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,

whi...

Read and leave comments (0)

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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Schoolschool daysgatesteachersleavingleavers

Of Katy and Narcissus (52 hertz)

Following

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?

 

Pining

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?

 

Floating

In the river of vigour

Fade and smote the figure

...

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Also by Katy Megan:

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 !

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by SPACEGHOST:

in the dark for ages. |

At the Beat of a Drum

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

Read and leave comments (4)

Also by Simon Austin:

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

soldiersadnesslossdeathpoem

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

 

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...

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Tomorrow I Will Retire |

poet

Don't

 

Don't
 
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...

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Mike Morris:

Outside My Window |

Poemlifeperformance poetry

So Why do I Write

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

...

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Shirley Smothers:

Christ Love in lamp shape | Lanterne Poem |

writepoetrywhyI

As if to care

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 ...

Read and leave comments (2)

Also by Tommy Carroll:

The votive offering | 00:01 |

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...

Read and leave comments (0)

neoboltonscott devonpaul blackburnopen micpoetryguitarsongpoem

Black Jack

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,

yet,

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,

yet,

the passion you've stirred in me,

electricity running through my ve...

Read and leave comments (0)

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,

 

These...

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:

 

 

W...

Read and leave comments (5)

Also by Dorinda MacDowell:

Parking |

The Spectacle

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...

Read and leave comments (4)

Also by Chris Co:

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

Funeral

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 h...

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Marnanel Thurman:

in my head, scribbled down |

The earth and her lover

 


Shhh……

 

The silence of the snow as it,

Carries the winter across the land,

It is unnerving,

Each flake, a spirit waiting to be reborn,

Its new, its concealing, its inviting,

A white mask descends onto the face of mother earth,

It covers her history of wrinkles,

Her centuries of faults and all her impurities,

She becomes new once again,

Clean…...

Read and leave comments (8)

Also by tina:

My first love | Forget me not |

The Poem Fails

The poem fails

It cannot render traction

Or the queer zero,

Rehearse location

Or mine gravity.

 

Panic & lapse

Immune to weak forces

Arise on threads of absence

In mechanical waves,

Muted by observation

& uncertain rules

In the chamber of bias.

 

An adumbration transpires.

Wanton longing. Dimension

Flattened & tamped.

Read and leave comments (2)

Also by Jonnie Falafel:

Peter Goes West | For A Second I Forgot | Clock Watchers In The Woods | Save Ulster From Sodomy |

PhysicsPoetryScience

Angelina

 

Gary

never known for his subtlety

three pints in at The Anchor

half an eye still on the game

orders another lager

 

swigs 

stands tall at the bar

and tells us all 

this changes nothing

he wouldn’t kick her out of bed

 

hilarity

he’s no oil painting himself

never has been never will

shouts of he should be so lucky

in another l...

Read and leave comments (4)

Also by steve pottinger:

Give him a grid reference, for the love of god. |

angelina jolie

The Word Gremlin

You're in the middle of the piece
You're really on a roll
You've mastered every syllable
And built it to a whole

Every intonation,
Every stress is well rehearsed
You know it inside out and back-to-front
Each chorus and each verse

You even know it side-ways
You've swum through every part
Can add to it your character
Your voice, your mind, your heart

Any lazy alli...

Read and leave comments (4)

Also by David Lindsay:

I Wish I'd Had Candy Floss |

Name

 

I told you what your friend's Gaelic name meant in English
You never knew
I never would have known it
If I'd never met you

Read and leave comments (0)

Also by c byrne:

expat - hyena version | expat |

Garrulus Glandarius

Mister Popinjay, up on his branch

Considers all the angles

Before committing;

Head on one side,

Matching the slant of light through branches

Jaunty but wary

Like a young lad, out upon the town,

Entering an unfamiliar bar.

 

Mister Popinjay

Brought me the summer

- a gift for which I’m grateful -

By decking his house with green

And wearing gaudy...

Read and leave comments (4)

COMMONALITY

Commonality 

 

I had this conversation with the mother of my spouse,

And viewed the garden that she tends to gentrify the house,

We came to the conclusion that we never would agree,

About the brave and various forms that nature gives for free.  

 

There’s glory in the chaos of the wild and wanton things,

The greenfinch in the hedgerow the buzzing wasp that stin...

Read and leave comments (3)

Also by Ian Gant:

RAUCOUS |

Old Age

Pepped up with pills and various potions

 

Zimmer frame ready to help forward motion

 

Wired for sound and to aid dicky ticker

 

Capsules to slow it - or make it go quicker

 

Now where's my bifocals to help me to see

 

- and all this just so I can go for a wee.

 

Read and leave comments (7)

agehumour

The Lonely Whale

He knew

that astronomers were wrong -

there was no universal truth

just flat earth

stretching end to end

the ALL

and the NOTHING

and the ocean in between,

reflected on its surface

one incidental star,

the weary push and pull

of lunar flow,

and so,

he sowed his knowledge

to the seven silver seas,

thrashed against perimeter

looking f...

Read and leave comments (16)

Also by Isobel:

52 Hertz |

When Obama goes to bed

When Obama goes to bed,
Before he rests his weary head,
Does he say a prayer for those,
His unmanned drones left comatose?

Does he shed a single tear,
As Palestinians live in fear?
Does he hear their cries and still,
Think collateral damage, is a necessary ill?

Does he talk to God, on sleepless nights,
They discuss Islamic rebels by candlelight.
Which freedom fighters ...

Read and leave comments (2)

revolution!Obamapoliticsrhyme

She Smiled

 

She smiled and held her new-born to her breast,
The miracle of childbirth was with her;
And twice again this image would recur.
She smiled, as through the years, she had been blest.
She smiled to see the graciousness of God,
As with her spouse they'd made Him their life's guide.
His strength for them was proven and was tried;
They'd come through life's most sto...

Read and leave comments (0)

Also by Tom Chapman:

Cynic |

Eden

 

Eden bloomed on rubble, twisted iron and exposed cobbles,

out of the primordial slum, green with pride.

That heretics would ever stop their cruel and wicked ways

Would away with their being, we must pray for our holy garden.

Their heresy distorts the truth, they follow a precious weight,

worth every ounce. This leaves poor Eden up the canal without a yacht,

this li...

Read and leave comments (1)

City Manchester Poetry Nostalgia Alientation

Birthday Blues

We close our eyes gently and slowly

Wait for the narcotic niceties to be over

“Isn't it nice to just relax?” you say

“Hmmmm” I agree, letting my thoughts become dreamy

 

My birthday is over and it's time to release the stress

It has taken so long

Doubling up the pretence puts pressure on the present

 

Downstairs you carry out the Birthday autopsy

...

Read and leave comments (0)

Also by Emma Roy- Williams:

Happy Fucking Birthday | Poignant Perch |

lifedrugsBirthdays

Treading Waters

 
Her toes were dimpled , coltish imprints;
Angel fish swimming too close to the tide,
my belly aching where the tiny sand pools
formed; each ripple, a rehearsal.
 
I found her hair tangling around
my ankles; a translucent green -
the shoreline being so unforgiving;
quick to bury my womanhood
 
in moving waters.
I thought she should have dark
...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Eye | Threads |

Bottling

He digs and drills so deep

that foundations may well crumble

 

Bottles himself away in lonely

lines of ribbed blue glass

upon some lop-sided shelf

 

The handwritten label, applied

and slid square with the rest of the world

 

The contents sealed in

wax from the neck down to do their time

 

Do not operate the machinery

Please comply with dos...

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mental health

Mourning for summer

The rain falls in vindictive little spikes

On this cold May afternoon. The month

Claws itself from the endless winter towards

A season lurking beyond the horizon

Consumed in the darkening Brume.

 

A figure stands on the corner, stooped

With collar stiff in vain protection. 

The mirrored pavement reflecting a form

As withered as the look he flashes

At the ...

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Then the muse of good mood arrived ...

I wasn't in the mood for poetry last night - a bad day at work had made me all grumpy.
 
But a after large red wine with a pal in my local pub, Hell's Waiting Room, the muse of good spirits came and perched on my shoulder.
 
So, as it happened, I DID very much enjoy a most life-affirming BARDS poetry session in New Brighton last night.

Great...

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poetryfootballpubsmates

SIN AGAINST THE SPIRIT?

 

It was almost nonchalantly done.

 

She lurked through the eddies of the crowded room

And moved towards me…we both realised

That it was now the time – the one time –

And never afterwards a time again.

 

I sensed she was behind me, and I felt

Her desolate enormous helplessness

With such a fierce compulsion that it seemed

My very heart must claw out fr...

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Also by Harry O`N eill:

A poet at prayer |

This is Pros and Coms

Hi Every body.. we recently did an interview with Bay Tv Liverpool. If u r ever in Lark Lane on Thursdays pop in Its Free entry.

Check out the video

http://t.co/lxHzcikS8a

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Also by Pros&Coms:

Make it a date with Ralph Killey | Make it a date at 8pm |

LiverpoolLiverpool poetryLive Music

Self Image

Full rounded heart,

Eyes that are sore with weeping,

Dark like and arrow piercing,

And ever the hand is writing.

 

You draw yourself, so many new lines.

Role after role you sketch, and toss away.

 

Mind that is ever writing

My own hard epitaphs,

Blaming my eyes for weeping

Over dusty photographs.

 

The past is a well told tragedy

And you a...

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Also by Freda Davis:

Weird Words a new spoken words night |

griefdepressionwriting poetry

Fast, effective action

 

There is no part of the flat

left unexplored. I’m not bored,

it’s something else: there’s too

much to do, things are vying

for concentration and attention

 

like never before, minor things

that can no longer be ignored,

pots to wash, a bath to be

scrubbed and a floor that needs

 

sweeping. And then there’s

decisions to be made about staying

...

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poetry

Violet. (Short story)

 

'Everyone sees me as a whore' Violet said

 

'Escorting won't help that reputation now will it?'

 

'No one will know but if I can make it as a painter then I rather take that career path'

 

Violet was a Manic depressive and lived on her own with two kids. A boy and a girl. The boy was 5 and was just starting school. He was getting bullied at nursery but was told to ...

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We Visited A Rainbow

WE VISITED A RAINBOW

 

We visited a rainbow

at school the other day.

Every colour said hello

except for gloomy grey.

 

We visited a rainbow,

and used its arch to slide,

then when it started raining,

we used the arch to hide.

 

We visited a rainbow,

but never saw its gold.

Our teacher said it’s locked away,

but we think it’s been sold.

...

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Also by George Stanworth:

The Worst Tutor Ever (Fact!) |

RainbowChildren's PoetryHumourImagination

TRANSPOECY

i HAVE RECENTLY MOVED BACK TO LODEVE IN THE LANGUEDOC REGION OF FRANCE. i LIVED HERE FOR 10 YEARS UNTO 2008 AND THEN LIVED IN BOLTON FOR 5 YEARS WHERE I ATTENDED WRITE OUT LOUD SESSIONS IRREGULARLY.  In Lodve we have a bif poetry fest. every July - Voices of the Mediterranean which features poets from every mediterranean country. I actually now live facing the festival office. Obviously there i...

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wot's tags?

The Last Star

1

 

A furious darkness is the sum of all forms.

The equity of beings from across space,

dwindling on the breaches of failed time

so dark it is violent

so real it is unavoidable.

 

We are the sayings of simple organics,

living parables

falling into the future

and the definite loss of all shine.

 

No sun prevails in the bitter fight with gravity...

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Also by Kealan Coady:

Her | Our Fault Is Urge |

Call for Submissions for Murder of Krows 2

Duncan Yeates and Abigail Wyatt are inviting poets and artists to contribute to their next Murder of Krows* anthology.

 

 
The submission guidelines are as follows:
 
1)    All contributors should be resident in Cornwall.
 
2)    Poetry of a serious nature is looked on more favourably than comic or light-hearted verse.
 
3)    Please do not submit any more th...

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Poetrycall for submissionsCornwallRedruthCamborne murder of Krows

Will Keep

I'll keep with me,

your smiles,

your tender kiss,

your helpfulness,

all this I will miss.

 

But loving you,

there was nothing to gain,

so much laughter,

so much pain.

 

Love,

yes,

it sometimes hurts,

it never runs smooth,

but,

it's not meant to hurt like this.

 

Love is kind,

it's supportive,

it's unbreakable,

i...

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Meal ticket

 

Sometimes the pub is a jolly good idea after a long & harrowing day.... Or so some say...
 
.
 
 
The door shuts behind ,
key turns, footsteps 
stravege after 
a tedious shift;
 
eyes lift up  
then revert back 
to telly, magazine, 
PS3 and tablet. 
 
The dining table 
is empty yet cluttered 
...

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Family ties

Today my ancestors walked with me.

Adorned in the comforting relics of old.

As the hostile glass shards of the judicial temple, slice chunks from my heart,

I wear my nana's brooch.

Diamond swallows take flight, reaching skyward.

Diamond wings that cut glass, releasing hope......

With ruby eyes of blood filled sight,

As the black robes of the crows sever umbilical cords with th...

Read more …

Moor Music

 

The shrill piping call of the returning Curlew

Contrasting with the lonely peep- peep of Golden Plover

Plaintive note of Peewit carried on the wind from its arching flight

Wading birds reclaiming their share of the corduroy moorland

Nesting sites found on drier ground among ling and crowberry

Ascending notes of Skylark lift the spirit and raise hopes

Honk of Raven ...

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Moorlandbirdssongs

13

If I was a Jazz singer.

music would be a kaleidoscope to focus my vision,
I would listen whilst dancing with my mother in our kitchen
she would laugh and I would smile, life would be pitch perfect
and every hour, minute, second to get to this point...it would be truly worth it.
cause lately there ain't no sunshine in this place,
no Jazz to replace the reposing look of sadness on h...

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AT DAYS END

At Days End
 

Home again,

Discard the watch,

Free yourself from time,

Wash the hands of work, This time is all mine!

 

 

Strip the clothes,

To wash the mind,

Relax, wind down,

Now its all behind,

Now i'm all yours

I am home again!

 

Copyright S.Rose

 

 

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Trev hits Texas again, his 2013 tour. (Homeward bound)

Image: Austin airport on the way home

 

30.04.13: 150) The day’s dawning,

Misty an’ cool like an English morning

Finished packin’ up,

Now away before the traffic starts backin’ up

Though it ain’t that far, breakfast then drop off my car

Through customs then wait, at the departure gate

For the plane to come in an’ let my journey home begin

 

151) Check in ...

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Also by Trev the Road Poet:

Trev hits Texas again, his 2013 tour. (Austin Pt 3) | Trev hits Texas again, his 2013 tour. (Los Fresnos to Austin) |

IS THIS POETRY?

IS THIS POETRY?

 

When you wear your thin dress

And look at me

Is this poetry

 

When I touch your arm

Casually

Is this poetry

 

When your eyes shine

Magnificently

Is this poetry

 

When we lie together

Silently

 

And the breeze lifts the curtain

Gently

 

To reveal the moon shining

Romantically

 

Please te...

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Welsh PoetsLiverpool Poets

breathing

you breathe out

I breathe in

I breathe out

you breathe in

I decide….

not to breathe

 

so we stand

lip to lip

heart to heart

hip to hip

open my

eyes to see

your eyes

widening

 

why should I

give my breath

I can stop

when I want

as you wait

for oxygen

I see thoughts

behind your eyes.

 

I hold my br...

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monster poem.

 

Monster poem:

 

Julie Rose is a monster

She arrived from another planet

They’ve been watching her ever since

Never knowing who she might convince

That we are not really here

That we are in a gigantic screen

That we are small and insignificant

And never should have really been

That we thought we touched down on the moon

And thought we may have vi...

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Just one more

Shipwreck survivor

Treading water, grasping flotsam,

Finds, jostled on the rising swell,

A great big ball

 

Of bubble wrap.

 

He clings to it. Floats landward.

But salvation and temptation

Often go hand in hand

And he succumbs to mankind's

 

Strongest urge

 

And starts to squeeze and snap

The bubbles in the wrap.

Even as he dips be...

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Ordering Food

Saturday was always my favourite day;

not just for the sport of it

and the lack of schooling,

but the absence of choice.

Saturday was stew and dumplings;

the day I didn’t eat my food

in alphabetical order.  

 

You’ll have heard of anorexia,

binge-eating and bulimia,

but you’ve not heard of eating food

in alphabetical order.

Have you?

I’ve chec...

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