Whisper music in the orient wind.

Dress vision in a gown of purple.

Smell needs in the shadows.

Let pink urges sing honey,

Hot language sweat black diamonds. 

Play the sweet moment. 

Eternity is raining raw gifts.

White time is a mad mist

Above the lake of moonlight,

The ache of swimming in skin.

Whisper sweet music in the orient wind. 

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As it seems to have been passed over, yet agan, in the publication of choice I'm taking the liberty of posting the review of my collection scratch, by the wonderful MulletProofPoet :

Scratch
Paul Sands

Sadly, these days, many poetry collections often come with a free side order of smart-arse, either that or they’re brimming with their own (usually misplaced) level of confidence, which gathe...

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He stands on a hillside

calling my name.

I hear him every day

but I say shush

to you I can not come

I am here on earth

having too much fun.

He wakes me with a serenade

drops petals at my feet

calls out my name

but I say shush

to you I can not come.

He teases me with

the moon

the stars

the sunset and dawn

the rainbows

the birds rising in ...

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Our Masterpiece

There’s something about Art Galleries.

A beacon for lost souls, the vulnerable.

Cathedrals of catharsis in the worship of art.

Galleries can be that way I’ve noticed.

So much beauty inspired by so much pain.

Maybe we seek the same transmutation internally.

She was chirpy, full of energy

But I knew inside she was falling apart.

Sometimes you just...

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In the nascent

empty vessels of time,

I hear your voice.

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Diamonds & Dirt

Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend
But at the cost my dear, at the cost
Of never boring them, you are their
Entertainment, they are your love.

Diamonds if they could talk would tell
A causatory tale of distance and dirt
You, a perfect diamond, a pure light
In the compressed dirt of their lives.

Diamonds reflect the compression
Which is the brevity of our lives
Wh...

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Hit

I got an email today from a coral
wanting to know why I don't have a car
I replied it is none of your business
blooming nosy crustacean

but corals aren't the type to let things lie
three phone calls, two texts
and registered delivered letter
later
I received a cheque from his mates
on the barrier reef
so I can buy an SUV

but I'm not that sort of bloke
I sponsored a rhino i...

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Our temporary two week living together

is wordlessly extended,

as equipped only with electric saw

and uncle’s ancient loppers,

we next tackle the thicket crouching in the back yard

Both middle aged with bad back and balance disorder,

a morning’s work and ‘Early night?’

means we are asleep by 8pm.

I  load as fast as you chop

stuff hatchback and estate like suitcases.

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Seven years old

He bounds through the front door.

(Super heroes never walk. They run!  They leap!)

Pink safari pants and a new T-shirt: “I’m the GREATEST’.

No argument there.

Friday is Disco Night at the school auditorium

Blaring beat pounding sound

Freedom

As dusk swallows the familiar.

Exciting!

“Do you dance?”

“Nah. I just play tag.  But it’s fun.”

...

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I stepped slow, drunkenly down

a half-shadowed rough road at noon;

no more than a sliver of dust,

a dirt track, borders pale in ruin.

No labour it was, but pleasant,

above a sky of summer blue;

yet autumn’s grasp it lay upon

the boughs, branches; a breezy tune.

And in a glade of silver hue,

of spider webs and thrushes’ nests;

beyond, there boomed in stereo,

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Nothing prepared me for the gig at “t’Monkey”; not five years of Open Mic-ing, not ten years of living nearby at Penistone.

The first thing I noticed about the place was that it wasn’t there.  Located in the Barnsley Triangle near Thurgoland, land of sheep and Thurgs, it steadfastly refused to acknowledge the Google Map I had run off; pointlessly, as it happened as there were no street lamps to...

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ThePoetry Spoke returns -

Thursday the 3rd of April - 8pm!  

This time around it’s Open Mic

& Guest Band - JustByChance

Gallagher Pub & Barbers

20 Chester Street - Birkenhead

Wirral - CH41 5DQ

Of our Guests 

Two gifted folk singer-songwriters, Andrew Jones and Liz Owen turned duo, In doing so they combining their talents and honed their music towards a folk/pop se...

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this woman’s work

warm breath on ice
baroque and roll
dancing windmills
flaming soul
the purr of cats
a stolen kiss
of peppermint
serpent’s hiss
touch of lace
Cleopatra eyes
pianoforte
dolphin cries
weeping angels
laughing clowns
heartbeat flutter
ninth wave drowns
waterfalls
windswept moors
kangaroos
painted whores
chilling wind
waxing moon
midnight
in the afternoon
ban...

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My inner desire is to be...
Free from the continuing burden
of my soul's carnality.

For I wish to be liberated
from the snares of sin's grip
and be forever emancipated.

Truly, I'm captivated by The Light
that shines eternally into my spirit
and erases my heart's love of Earthly delights.

Fulfillment of my life's emptiness
is only met by a spiritual purpose
with God's call to His H...

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It’s not a lie, everything is full of you, I can assure it;

the night we met,

the old lantern that shone on us

and perhaps your promises inspired these words

converted into grief

My heart, yearning for you,

looks for sweet words

to write in your soul

This love without words became my preferred tempo,

in the most perfect harmony,

in the most beautiful poetry

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Lets go fracking

Fracking here, Fracking there,

these frackers are fracking everywhere.

Wherever you look, frackers have took.

No Small is Beautiful for them

But big and Bullshitty.

No room for real people, real mem,

but Banksters and Selservatives,

thet's what we call these fracking conservatives,

with their tools the policemen 

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Silence Now

And now there’s silence now

No wings above the sky

Waiting in terminal

Turmoil

They wail

As hope

Dies

Frozen for weeks on end

Rocking their loved ones inside

Until they receive the news

The news

The news

But now there is silence now

I hope there are wings of comfort to guide you inside

That the wail will subside

And the cal...

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THE OLD COMMODORE

This faded slab stands to commemorate

David Lewis of ‘The Conqueror’ late

A Montgomery man ‘The Old Commodore’

Who served under Nelson in times of war

Then as a harbourmaster in peacetime

A grand old seadog not far past his prime

Here in Aberystwyth he lived and died

His watchful eye always on the tide

In this peaceful town on Cardigan Bay

He dropped...

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~~You could almost smell the tea
in the moments when the jazz band played
and the chimps filled the 9” tv screens.
From then on it was the hapless Mr Shifter
and his piano, or Bond, Brooke Bond.
No one could look after the national beverage
like this guy, this spy.
Shirley Tipps would try to get organised, but find
that five minutes tea-time is a rare commodity.
Best let Al and Monkey put...

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My feet throb through my shoes
after a brisk walk to the station.
I keep my ears plugged with my beats
as I find my seat at the furtherest point.
Backs of heads, napes, and collars
mushroom and stare at me --
my polarised sunnies paint them bright;
Yet all I see is a tiny reflection of me.
Here in my world another day begins.
This cosmos is peopled isolation.

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The Earths Core

I am sat in front of its secret eye,

And I wanna kick fuck out of it,

It watches everything I do,

I pick my nose in front of it,

Wack off,

Swear,

Drink

Bite my nails

And pick my scabby scalp,

     It looks at me with pleasure,

For it seeks only the demeaning

Of my being,

And I find nowadays

My dick is cold,

My mind colder still,

...

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Poem for Bob Crow (cheers W.H. Auden)

Stop all the docks, cut off the trains, 
Start the mariners striking, be still the cranes, 
Silence the busses and with muffled bullhorn 
Bring out the coffin, let the workers come. 

Let politicians circle, moaning overhead 
confessing on the airwaves, He Is RED, 
Put nooses round the white necks of the bosses, 
Let the riot policemen carry their o...

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Vernal Equinox

Spring is official

We're in the part that hangs us up

The thawing what's been forgotten

Under snirt and ice for months

Secrets left for safe keeping

Are announcing winter's dark season

Like confessionals 

Transition or how hard spring can be

Reminds us of brutal beauty

Of life and death

Never considered separately

A tandem like

The War and Peac...

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The only place where I could hold your hand was in my thoughts and dreams.

Somewhere passed all that

you embraced me; silently and soothingly whispering to me your final goodbye.

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The child inside of me.

is the child I used to be.

The hopes and fears

Of the child inside

are still alive in me,

and every day, in every way

I’m still the child inside.

The child inside shapes the view

of the world I see today

and the eyes of the child

are round and wide

and I will be their guide.

For the child inside everything is new,

every road ...

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we gave you bread and circuses

now it’s bingo cards and beer

to distract you, so you’re unaware

your future’s disappeared.

© Steve Pottinger

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Love

Inspires

Creativity

Creativity

Produces

Art

Art

Voices

Emotions

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This is posted to herald the welcome signs of spring in this great city.  Now put in a music setting, 

intended for a currently produced CD of "poems to music" called "POETRY TO PLEASE".

...........................................................................

In all the world there's nowhere quite

Like London on a soft spring night

When saffron sunset sends its grace

To linger...

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I'm just a scaffolder

Hopefully making (more than one temporary) solid structure used to support people and material 

In the construction or repair of their projects 
Did you remember to bring me the silver?
Axe swinging in the static
Just trying to hang in chains
Watching it become unbalanced
And sometimes some crashing down
Onto the other side of the road

Did you forget to bring m...

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just before the lesson
to the horror of the youth
he discovered his shorts were missing
to the master should he tell the truth?
to come to school without full kit
the boy knew all too well
would leave him deeply in the…er…teacher’s bad books
and more than just a bit!
a flash of inspiration struck
‘I’ve lost my shorts, ’ he ‘fessed
‘in lost property can I look?’
his teacher feigned distr...

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She loves me not she tries to say

in her gentle, unconvincing way,

with eyes that warm

and lips that glide

her heart and mine collude, confide.

She does not care, but care she must,

I know she lies, herself I trust,

but what of me, what thoughts are held

when reticent, restrained, compelled?

Does she feel that which I feel too,

no choices now but to pursue

whilst h...

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I wrote this after visiting the Concrete Menagerie in Branxton, Northumberland. I also made a filmpoem of this for the Read our Lips Filmpoem competiton 2014. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKF0BH4b64g

My fingers trace the indentations pressed

By previous hands; the clefts and dents

Formed in cement by an ageing man

For (as some would think him) an imperfect son

For whom, they...

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Holi – The Festival

Yellow green and orange

lot other varied shades.

Spell cultural harmony

even after festivity fades.

Different cross sections

all diversities are defined.

Everyone comes together

this day one would find.

Heralds change of season

sort of an age old trend.

With overthrow of the evil

all goodness must ex...

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I’m a big fan of Harry Graham and his Ruthless Rhymes, so I’ve written a couple of my own, although he has already written the best ones. Ruthless Rhymes are jewels of black humour and awe-inspiring callousness. Mine are just a bit disturbing, and include an iffy rhyme or two, as is my wont. I hope you like them.

AUNTY PAT

Aunty Pat had a ratskin hat

Together with a ratskin glove.

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A lion, with triumphant stare,
holds high the pedigree that lay
hid in the books that line his lair.
Beneath, a pride in proud array
with golden grins agape to say
that colour (as a rule of thumb)
must meet with metal for display,
and: the sky-blue shall overcome.

Now, week by week, we've gone to Clare
for nine-score terms, until today,
to gather for a meeting, where
we sweep away naï...

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Apple, Plum, Orange, Lemon, Lime
All give us their sweet Fruits
Alder, Birch, Hawthorn and Sycamore
Spread from solid roots
 
Elder, Fern, Gingko, Hazel
Sweet Gum, Hornbeam, Fig
Bald and False Cypress, Beech
Grow their fearless twigs

There's Holly, Mountain, Ash and Pine
Poplar, Spruce and Yew
Elm, Eucalyptus, Cycad, Conifer
Walnut.  Monkey Puzzle too

Japanese Snowbell, Shellback ...

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Here I'm sitting without a care

Watching the ripples caress the sand

Taking in the salty sea air

Where the ocean meets land.

Show me the currents and ocean tides

right down to the oceans floor

Let me see where the seaweed resides

While the waves crash against the shore..

The white foamy waves crashing

With shades of green and aqua blue

The glistening sun fla...

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TIMES BROKEN ARROW

And the world keeps rocking to the sound of the void
Spinning through time, a pirouette we can't avoid
And what have you done today
Did the fool on his errand slip by
Did you have much to say
As his time in your life seemed to fly

And the world keeps spinning into uncertain futures
The wounds in it's crust needing serious sutures
And what have you done today
Was th...

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Soothe the wounds of weariness

give ever more to the graceless moron

a daisy-chain of elfs and fairies

Praise the poet,

kill the beast,

pity the mother.

We chatted on the chairs below

while the echoes danced above

blood splattered like spilt soup

Watch out

TV ads may

terrorize you

UNCHAIN THE CHAINED

Spark and fizz

rage and whizz

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(Apology from the millions of the feminine `chosen`)

Our most sincere congratulation

And fellow - feminine applause

To your prestigious celebration

Honouring our women`s cause.

We`re sorry we could not assist

(Our inclination being thwarted)

For, though we too are feminist,

We`ve been (genderly) aborted.

(And thence could not participate

In our female discar...

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HIGH TIDE AT SANDYHILLS

That night, when everything was full,
The moon, the flaring bay & me,
Everything was possible, beautiful.
I could have swum to St. Bee’s
In minutes, made for Maryport,
Washed myself up in England
Casually before the pubs shut,
Tide-bright & thirsty on the strand.
As it was, I floated a mere hundred yards
On gentle waves to a stake-net pole,
Driftwood on a fluid...

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Once the rifles finished 
silhouetting in Wagner 
and they were rescued
from the camps, 

their half cut screams
across that last moonlight 
followed them all the way out,
every footstep 

half sinking like quicksand 
through the tarmac
weaved in terror

nested deep In open wounds

gurgling with squirming limbs

alive in a conflagration 
roasted In the flames.

(Another...

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I can be horrible and tell you
tons of dis-tasteful things
if I am a cruel or vicious mood.

I can tell you tons of wicked stories
of what I used to get up just 
to make you blush dark blue
as the night sky. 

I can tell you some of my legendary
sexual cock up's 
which i have still have some
of the bruises.

I could tell you about my superglue
and ambulance van story
or the time i ...

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Home is where the hat stand lives 

Where the brandy toils and the fire spits 

Where your dreams are shared with a slobbering dog

Outside where the werewolves roam and whips crack on brittle bone 

Filling their carts yet never to the brim 

Know your castle is perched away from smiles hidden within the dirt

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Wealthy Uncle

Lived alone

Discovered dead.

Family members

All notified

Rapid response.

Financial gains

Sudden interest

Crowded church.

Greedy vultures

Flock around

Skeleton bones.

Cursed grave

Sleeping spirit

Seeks revenge.

Solicitor's office

Scavengers arrive

Rich pickings.

Cat's charity

Sole benefactor

Hostile reaction.

Howling wind

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Nietzsche declared

(when he asked for his supper)

That: 'I am famished 

and that is a fact.''

His landlady retorted:

''Until the rent's sorted,

you'll have to make do

with an interpretation

or two

or you-

can get yourself packed!''

words and painting T Carroll

reworked

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The dog has run away,

I have nothing more here to say,

It has really gone,

To the well known zone -

From the Ukrainian to the Russian border.

By the way, without anyone's order.

Through the revolutionary smog

Someone asked that dog:

Why are you running away?

Why don’t you want here to stay?

And the dog answered:

It’s so bad to live in Ukraine.

I am just loosing ...

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Another deadened day 

another traipse

through your absence

the days first thought

of your abandoning me

brings on a fit

of sheer unadulterated vindictiveness.

My hurling of your leering photograph

disintergrating  against the wall

makes a most pleasureable sound.

Ripping noise of shredding

the flimsy nightwear you left behind

becomes a vengeful fa...

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Your birthday always brings me back to flowers.

Last month snowdrops nudged off soil caps

and turned their faces to the light.

Now, heads bowed, they contemplate return.

In their place a flourish of lilac, purple and white

adorn forest floors, signals to the end of night.

Today, ubiquitous green stemmed clumps

rise by roadsides and parkland paths.

Straining to bir...

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