See What Thinking Brings

The impenetrable logic that wriggles
its strong bright hands before my eyes
distracting and distancing
drawing my gaze away
withdrawn from simple knowledge
complicated and confused

I lay still
on the soft floor
where it's safe
And calm

Thoughts gushing through narrow corridors
bust pipes and crossed wires, releasing
the past and the present slip further apart
all memories lock the...

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Also by Tom:

In These Pictures I Have Taken | Forest | The Quiet Ones |

Tales from the bucket



I am a man in constant sorrow

constant worry

constant strife

I am constantly opposing every constant in my life

there are times when I am happy

I have even raised a smile

but that is just a consequence

of a constant

in denial



Mostly I sit and amuse myself by

continuously pressing the self destruct button

I do this in the v...

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Also by vinty:

Tales from the bucket | Tales from the bucket | When does it end? | No one |





Out over the fields a pair of crows circle and dive amongst the hedgerows and green grass.

A watery sun casts its watery face through the spring clouds as the birds disappear from view.

Eighty years ago it was a similar story as two manmade hawks of the air battle to the death; the fields aren’t green but a shell-holed hell with muddy trenches filled with wretched...

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historyww1biplanesair warbattle



Fell off the wagon
Chasing dragons
Smoking crack
There’s no going back,
Henry says.
Furred over days
Spent in misty rooms
Filled with acrid
Skunk fuelled fumes
Of heady dreams
Thicker it seems
Than blood
It isn’t a dream
When the needle slides
Under the skin
Where the demons hide
Leaving a red spot
A tiny dot
Of pleasure
And you nod your head
Your ...

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Also by Pete Slater:


Tender Hearts!

Tender Hearts




     I prove myself favoured in comedy,

Not even consciously,

Aside from my own wit

There is a clown of a protégé,

Someone for those to howl at,

Someone to grin at

As they pass my ill gait

Walking streets no longer caring,

     And I will never forgive

This curse,

Never forgive the worst

‘They’ made of me!


     My guess is, ...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

The Great Illusion |

ViolenceNeglectChild AbuseDepressionSuicide.


Should you go in the spare room, you wonder

as we lie here in bed together

so that I can be left to slumber

as it seems you’re coughing forever.


Loving affection is really our thing

so I suggest you take a dose

of that tasty cough medicine

which you have been keeping close.


So you take my advice with a swig

and hey, you’ve stopped coughing – yes!

but now you...

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Also by Lynn Dye:

Democracy is dead | Second of January |

Henry the Eighth

(Invited by No. 1 daughter to write a poem for the kids in her class studying the Tudors)


King Henry spent his entire life

Searching for the perfect wife;

He tried them big, he tried them small,

He tried out six wives all in all.


The first one’s name was Aunty Cath

He said, “I fink you’re ‘avin a laugh!”

So he got rid of her, of course

“’Ere’s six quid and your di...

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Also by John Coopey:

Marvo, Leo and Flo | The Time I Saved Western Democracy from Communism | MORRIS 1800 | The Telemarketer | Who Wants to be a Millionaire? | Bucket List | THE BALLAD OF THE 'OSTAGE SITUATION | WHERE DO YOU GO TO, MY LOVELIES? | Ode to Woy |

No finish line

Tied to the cavities of the night,

life becomes written tears in my eyes;

every part of my body has its wound

and I unceasingly wander in the aggregate pitfalls of a fog


Before me the cross of loneliness turns to me,

pass painful valleys,

there’s nothing left standing

only dents in my soul


Between fear and courage,

cold and misery tally each step,

waiting is...

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what is the world coming to when...

Man United beat bottom of the league 2-0 at home and everyone's making a big deal about it

Spider's that have been here for years suddenly become killers

Jim Davidson " From Zero to Hero "

People find out a lot of beef was horse meat really but still buy ready meals

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Just a bit of mountain fun |

Traffic Lights

Traffic Lights


At sixteen years I bought myself the finest birthday prize,

I bought a motorcycle and despite my mothers cries,

I set out to the open roads spurred on by youth and zest,

Through summers never ending it was better than the best.


God knows I took my chances though the roads were traffic free,

In nineteen sixty life was rich the world was just for me,


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Also by Ian Gant:


BLACK BLOOD - a poem for the Great War

My father survived the Western Front and the Italian Front in the Great War, promoted from the ranks to

2nd lieutenant, 1st Battalion, Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, attached to the 5th Division.  He was in

uniform again for WW2 and died aged 50 of TB when I was five.  I have a book about the 5th Division left

by him, containing some handwritten recollections of that terrible conflict...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:



Poem: Waiting on You

When floating in the sea of despair,
never give up hope, for the Lord is already there.
For in the time of your darkest hour,
you can tap into His Dunamis power.
Addressing Earth's challenges requires a key -
As a child of His, you must yourself see.
To assure that your earnest prayers are heard,
you need to hide in your heart His Holy Word.
For out of your mouth, His Word you should speak...

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Also by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd:

Poem: As a Joint Heir with Thee | Poem: My Soul Now Sings | Poem: Only Your Adoration | Poem: Prism to our Past | Book Review by Ellen Tanner Marsh: Reaching Towards His Unbounded Glory | Poem: Silent Words Are Useless | Poem: Giving Tithes to God | Poem: Moments of Clarity | Poem: Grace and Love | Poem: Exit Strategy | Poem: Daily Bread |

christian poetrypoetryfaithbreunigWaiting on You

The Kissing Gate

Lay bare foot crisp on roasted stems

of wild grasses, dust trod blades

once herald of lush pasture soon

now fallen heroes of the storm.

Strewn before each stride performed

not noted save the random bur

or hidden needle of the pine

bows lying over path by path.

Inviting all to gates below

where creaks have lived these forty years

escaping every visit's turn

soil scr...

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

What comes around could be avoided. | Who's afraid of the Goat | aiM in the opposite direction. | Bar none | Think again. | ص. ممنوع, محظور, محرم | Lady of the White Mountain land. |

Of Lilith and Anthony - front cover preview...

Here’s a preview of the front cover for Of Lilith and Anthony.  It’s a collection of narrative poetry, a story of possession and sexual obsession told through verse and photography.

I’ve been posting poems from the collection but soon it will be available on amazon as an e-book to begin with.  Will keep you posted on when this will happen…

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Also by Katy Megan:

The Hierophant's Castle |

lovelove poetry

Women are also....

...out there, outhinking, outwitting

Outstanding, outshining,

Outspokenly outrageous.

Outclassing, outplaying, outperforming.  

Out of jobs they ought to have

Outrunning, outmanoeuvring, outsmarting.

Out shopping for outfits.

Out of their minds.

Out on the town.

Out of sight gorgeous. 


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Also by Dave Bradley:

Women are.... | Tory Attitudes | The Shop of Days | Building and hiding |

Fracking (Cinquain #1)

Fracking (Cinquain #1)

from injection
opens gaping fissure.
The whole process needs inspection.

Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Ian Whiteley:

Cheap Whore | Grievous Angel | baptised | The Old School Tie | Thirty Plus Years In An Open Necked Shirt (audio version) |

Adelaide Crapsey formcall to armscinquain formfrackinginvestigationprotest

When It Disappears

photo credit: Bill Cottman

When It Disappears

I love music when it’s searching

When the sounds aren't sure

When one note connects   

Like family and new resolutions

Form through extempore solos

I love music when it’s copulating

When it’s out there on edge

When the Cats

Playing it are out there

Defying boundaries

Reaching for blue-green-lavender

Sound shapes


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

Forgetting Home (or how can I forget you if you won't go away) | Imamu | Blues Jeans | Publishing Partnership |

Hamline UniversityNovawaiting for a spaceship

Vitai Lampoonda

There’s a breathless fear in the mind of Gove,
Laws to make, and the polls to win;
For the ruling class in his party strove
To instil an obedient zeal therein.
And it’s not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season’s fame,
But a series of words that you learn by rote:
If you don’t understand… it’s all the same.

Read and leave comments (4)

Also by Marnanel Thurman:

Dogged Scribblings | Epiphany | Nine and sixty ways |


You mourn old photographs:

‘I was pretty then, and I never knew it.’


I’ve just filled an album

with our last pieces of paper

before digital took over:

It includes my mother’s 80th birthday

(she just missed out on 90).

A fabulous, tearful, joyous Sikh wedding,

dancing to the bhangra boy’s beat,

the marriage lasting little more

than a year. That holiday in Sorrento...

Read and leave comments (9)

Also by Greg Freeman:

Plain Man's Valentine |


"Peaceful Ukraine, Peaceful Maidan"

Peaceful citizens in the peaceful Ukraine.

Peaceful hard hats on the peaceful heads,

Peacefully breaking the slavers chain

Peacefully fight and protest.


If one is not peaceful, there’s no place here.

Peaceful slogans and peaceful “Hooray”

Peacefully kicking without a fear

Those who happened to fall on the way.


All is so peaceful, so white and so fluffy.


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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

My Long-Suffering Ukraine | Tomorrow | Love Has Burned |


Dragging my Life to School

Dragging my Life to School



Dragging my life to school

And knowing…





The sum …

Of my suffering


A blackout board

Learning the parts of the body quickly

From blows that went in


Dragging my life from school

And knowing






A blow

A plate in the air

And thankfully a knife that didn’t go ...

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Don't take your Elephant to School

Don’t take your elephant
To hospital
And tie it’s ears outside
Into the bicycle rack.

Don’t take your elephant
To hospital
And encourage it
To steal other patient’s food.

Don’t your elephant
To hospital
Let it sleep
Let it roam across fields,

But most importantly
Keep it away from Tarzan
Who’ll drive them crazy
Like Harry Potter
Rewritten by Stephen King. 



(Not r...

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A new video

I've made this great new video of the title poem of my free ebook.

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The Fall of Oscar Wilde

The Fall of Oscar Wilde



Low hanging fruit, a family feud,

a misspelled note, a libel suit,

mock indignation and ire,

to please your lover liar,

a bullet made for you to fire.

Sling enough mud they say....


Sling enough mud, it sticks,

exactly what the Marquis did!

Like you he paid the boys in gifts

for services rendered, to lift the lid

off your desir...

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Also by Jonnie Falafel:

Scraping The Barrel (A Villanelle) |

Four Floors

Her face was peppered with white powder,
The prouder part of her slender frame
Lay still, a weary head on a pillow
By an open window four floors away.
Eyes of glass catch hazed reflections
From the direction of London lamps
Lighting themselves one by one,
But she does not smile at their amber gleam
Whilst the seams of her soul come undone.

Vague melt solidifies natures crime scene.

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My faults are many, my problems few

Perhaps too many I tell, but just not you

Through rifts and valleys I suppose you were there

Mostly too self absorbed was I, neglecting to care

I see that now, I will see it still

In years to come when I am old and ill

Troubled am I with a past I cant change

Weary am I with thoughts of mumbling rage

Sorry to say I have let so much slip...

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Also by alan barlow:

Only For You |

The Mirror














My first apartment

was in a bad neighborhood.

The apartment was small

and rat infested.


The mirror in my

bedroom had a

dark shadowy spot

in the corner.


It looked creepy but

I told myself to ignore it.

But sometimes I swear

the shadow pulsated

like it was breathing.


When my lease r...

Read and leave comments (3)

Also by Shirley Smothers:

The Sea Haiku |


A Centenary War Poem for my father Bill Baine (1899-1968)

for Bill Baine, 1899-1968

‘What passing-bells for those who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.’
And so some lines to spike centenary prattle:
These words a sole survivor soldier’s son’s.

My father Bill, born in Victorian England:
The sixth of January, 1899.
His stock, loyal London. Proletarian doff-cap.
Aged seventeen, he went to join the line.


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My PC died. My PC died taking the bones of what was to be my next collection with it.

It is unrecoverable, short of taking a £700 punt on forensic recovery.

Gutted doesn't come close.

I'm reverting back to notebook and pen


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Also by Paul Sands:

wish sister | brain burp | leviathan | driving her home | The Wrong Climate | Squib |


Fiesty old pro-choice Celia`s dream


Celia would say with that sly old knowing wink:

`If this Almighty really existed wouldn`t you think

That he`d want us unbelieving folk to know himself

And so would simply , unmistakeably show himself,

Rise up in all his splendour, wiggle his magic wand,

Bid all the world`s wickedness shrivel, flee, abscond?

I mean, why so shy? so bashful? keep himself so hid,

Why not just...

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Also by Harry O`N eill:

While waiting for inspiration | Promised poem for Kathy after the party |

The Ides

I walked down a solemn, slow-trodden road

And breathed in the dust of fragments

That littered the beaten way

Memories leapt to greet me, old friends.


The warmth, the red flush on pale skin

The familiar motions and thoughts...

Submerging in the chill Winter light

Bathing in the cold Autumn rains

Swimming in the warm Summer lakes

Waiting for the first new day of Sprin...

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Also by David Blake:

Beyond A Clichéd Title |


I Compare Thee To A Roast Dinner

From my new book:- A Floristry of Palpitations


As cool as a sprout,

and more fragrant than a cabbage -

You turned me on with your Yorkshire Pudding wit.

Your potato looks, and carrot personality

attracted me like gravy to a plate.

Your cauliflower skin, and garden pea humour

was as passionate as a roast beef kiss.


Your solicitor was ...

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A Floristry of PalpitationsPoetryHumourRoast Dinner


The room brimmed
with her pale heat
lapping through my winter.

Dare I touch this dance
and stuff my pockets full of hope?

Parcel my fears
in wax paper and twine
and wait for them to unravel.


Pic - Cormorant Drying Wings. by Geoffrey Bickley. Sculpture: wood


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love poems

Bus Ride

John from Blackbess St.Peter

owns this yellow bus we travel on,

a-sway on the West Coast road to the reggae tunes

accented by the horn - our soundtrack.


as Tourist due to

my pale love,

although my heart and soul


for this coral isle.


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Another wee blast of grim northern verse from my Highland stravaigings early in 2013. Crianlarich is the railway station/stop where the train from Glasgow splits, half to Oban, half to Mallaig, or rejoins on the way south from both. It's surrounded by fantastic scenery & the temperature always seems to be -2C.



At Crianlarich where the great winds roared,

Hyphens of rai...

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Also by Stuart A. Paterson:

A poem written for someone I never met | A return of sorts |

The Christmas Tree


It took a while to grow

The Christmas tree, you know

And for weeks it gave us Christmas cheer

Draped with decorations

Befitting the time of year

But now January has come

and the festive season’s done

but we’ve another use for the tree,

we’ll chop it into logs

and burn it on the fire.

It’s sad really,

because it took a long while to grow,

The Christmas tree,...

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Also by Steve Higgins:

Action | Cannonball |


Plastic world

With smiles on our faces

we commit the crimes

on a daily basis-

crimes against humanity

for the sake of prosperity

we throw the devil's dice


We all signed up for it

and now we wonder why

all that we loved

tends to fall apart


Withdraw from the madness

do not oil the war

don't shoot at the buggies

don't hire newborns!


Thinking we are drops of ...

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Let us meet at the gates Happy Days

and think deep of what we thought

we was a sad song but the radio plays loads

Free to chill , be

it takes two to tango ...

i played my part in the story of getting dumped

theres not a lot to talk about anymore

i love you baby i love you more than is logical

we did not even get on

so your not mine

i do not mind

Rainbows All Round


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How to approach a new year

the same as I did last year

scaring myself

surprising myself

reminding myself

salford girls can soar

showing that this woman

has more than she ever imagined

or bargained for


don’t expect me to turn over a new leaf

cos I’ll be springing into summer’s warmth

whooping through autumnal days

there’ll be no kicking of heels

when I’m kicking up a snow storm



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Switch on the dark,
it's the right place to be.
Embraced in the black
that's reflected in me.
I can stop.
Stop with the thinking,
the feeling of sinking,
the sense that the whole world
around me is shrinking,
I am not.
Ignoring the noises,
not listening to voices,
denying my choices,
I am done.

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January Collage Poem: Beginnings and Exits


Mothers of sons dream troubled dreams

of blowing leaves and anniversaries.

Give me an energetic brush every time


it smells like winter, trees sigh softly

and nature floats my boat. Red and gold

leaves scurry along in the force


the pungence of words strong enough

to sting the nostrils, sweet enough

to bless the ears


glamour in fleece and recognition


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January Collage poemCollage PoemStockport WOL

ThePoetry Spoke January Open Mic & Guest Ian Whiteley

ThePoetry Spoke returns -
Thursday the 16th of January - 8pm!  
This time around it’s Open Mic
&  Guest Poet - Ian Whiteley

Gallagher Pub & Barbers - 20 Chester Street - Birkenhead
Wirral - CH41 5DQ

Of our Guest - Wol, Yorkshire and Wigan poet!

Ian is a member of the Black Horse Poets in Wakefield - with 5 poems published in their recent anthology 'Full Rein', Ian's first full colle...

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No Justice (Page 7)


Concluding a tissue of lies,

his life resides in a box;

confined, entrapped,

determined, defined

by discourse,


No Peace.

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Remember Sharon

Q. And babies?

A. And babies.


not my words- not my foto  T carroll

with reference to the My Lai Massacre 

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

In memory of Ariel Sharon |


Before we moved home my wife and I hosted a New Year Party with usually over twenty attending.   We introduced the old fashioned entertainment of singing, poetry, story telling.   I wrote the following after the last one.



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Chemical Skies, Dyes and Dies

How In Heaven's Name

Did These Chemical Skies Arise

Burning Down Our Hopes

Our recollections

Of True, Blue skies


Why in Hell's Name

Have We Allowed Chemical Lies To Abide

Drowning our muted cries

Our questioning

Of The Chemtrails Crime


When Will We Count The Cost

In Human

In Plant

In Animal

In Water and Soil



When It's All O...

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The shivers that creep up your back,

The smells, the sounds that bring you back,

The city streets that call your name,

You know it will never sound the same,

Fish and chips at the pier head dock,

Time stands still on the Liver bird clock,

The Mersey breeze through your hair,

In all the world you haven’t a care,

Butties of jam with corporation pop,

10p mix from the corner...

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Also by tina:

The cloak | The Beehive |

tonight's menu

i'm not falling for you again,

my wicked wicked heart.

Read and leave comments (0)

Also by Lory Gaur:

I am here.. |

My book

My book. 

    Prejudice and Pride by Katie Haigh


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Also by Katie Sheila Haigh:

For Granddad |

Show more entries …

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