Poetry Blogs (Apr 2014)

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'No museum here' you said.

So I guess you had to make do

with a rusting emblem of the dead

time's plaything, your due;

a line from a prayer-book

a dusting of gold;

shattering a morning

of a bleak, mindless wanderer.


'Leave me the key' I said

and took the road to roam

gathering the crafts in arms

burying your trust at home;

a spring back in my step

a thou...

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Also by David Blake:

In the Sea | Coalition | Chapter One |


Holy Ghosts Dance

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Holy Ghost Dance

Ivory bones at the bottom of the Atlantic  

Ghosts dance to water music nobody composed

Dancing to holy tragedy




Bought and shipped

Our bodies are home

Connected to stories evergreen

Our bodies are home

Immortals dancing 

dancing to faint memories of

 Ohm boom bah boom

Lost languages and historic

Legacies detached ...

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

Unexplained Bottomness / from Bottomless Sky |

Holy Ghosts Dance

God invented by Man?

Before humans, with God all alone,
He thought: 'Great leap into the unknown,
But of chimps I need a superior strain -
I'll give them a much more efficient brain,
In which the traits of reverence and compliance are sown.'

But to God's unbounded dismay,
He found some killer humans led the others astray.
And with various forms of religion and race
Among the seven billion, and growing apac...

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Philosophical Poem

Set Free

What to be when I''m not me

A child, a loner, a "hoe like" girl

What to be when I'm not me

A big brat that dreams of one day having the world


Where to go when Im not home

Out with strangers, guys that I've just met

Where to go when Im not home

Party and go crazy like a fish released from a fish net


What to say when Im away

That I'm young, friendly and just look...

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Also by Starr Steele:

Nineteen & Counting | Let Go | My First Sight of Love | Prom night has began... |

A tribute to Chinaski

~~You know
You wonder
Who the crazy
You hang pictures
On the wall
With spaces
For the small people
To fit in to
You talk to the cat
You drink some wine
Eat some food
Same shit
Different day
You read some
On the pot
Let him mess with
Your thoughts
A little
Wonder what
All the fuss
Is about
You run lists
Through your mind
Helps you sleep
Keeps yo...

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Also by Twilbury Wist:

The poetry of people | Blinded | Lost Love | The Battle | The Hat |

Capitalism Is Sick

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How much is enough?
The question I ask
Of the shareholders rich
Who bring to talk
The board of a company
Who say times are tough
They only made billions in profits…
Disappointing, not enough.


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austeritycapitalismfinancial crisis

If you're feeling bored on Wednesday afternoon (30th April) ...

Howdie folks.  I've been invited to spout some poetry and play some favourite tracks on a local Wirral radio station on Wednesday.   I've no idea what the frequency is but this is the web link, in case anyone feels like listening to the show.  The show starts at 2pm - though I might not get there till going on 2.30.


Isobel x

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I Am Become Death

And I will say - now I am become fire.
The liar, the thief, stirred underneath
In golden chasms burst forth
Unto wrought iron skies
Shedding white scales
Upon the veils of the red.


And I will say - now I am become faith.
The wraith deity, gravity defiler
Tied to the fate, the hate
Of beaten idols
Lying in scattered pieces
Upon barren soils.


And I will say - now I am becom...

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My Life


That ongoing story that I call my life

Is nothing but a total tangled mess.

It’s a disaster area; a no-go zone

And sometimes I feel like staying at home


It’s a random story with a spot of romance

Mixed up with elements of chance

And one way or another it’ll be soon resolved

And for my sins I hope to be absolved


The ongoing story that I call my life

is hard...

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The Judgement of History

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Strange how time shapes the views we hold of events and, for the purposes of this piece, of people.

Consider the war criminal who had 180 Neapolitan POWs executed and whose funeral was shunned by most of his Admiralty peers.  His statue stands proudly in Trafalgar Square.

Or Richard the Lionheart, revered as the quintessentially “good” English king, but who bled his Exchequer dry prosecuting...

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Also by John Coopey:

The Wars Between the Sexes | Seven Deadly Sins | Nigel Farage | Sharing the Wealth | The Hoaxers |

Words repeating themselves

I knew what I was doing
All the way out of the door
Until I tasted the moonlight
And felt the snow 
Dripping off my shoulders

Picking my way through
The empty seats
And the sea filtered breath
Of the older couple
Sat at the back of us

Curved in reckless abandon
As first the attendees
Tried to stop me
Then both of the security
In unaided shock

As first my throat
Then my stom...

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Also by Gray Nicholls:

Imaginary letter to older self |

queen memory...

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sleep, queen memory, sleep

for once, be emptyheaded

let every ounce of bitterness and sorrow

leave this room


sleep, queen memory, sleep

in green calm spaces wander

happy to be lost, a newborn

entranced in this desolate land


sleep, queen memory, sleep

follow each note, each ripple

it does not matter where you go

or who you meet or

who you leave beh...

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having to paint a braver face on


my eye shadow is being swallowed

by a skin fold


oh no! drooping eyelids!

balloons of panic slowly rise.


brain-tell my face to behave!

face doesnt obey.


I turn to my partner

trying to quell the quiver in my voice

its essential I drag a compliment out of him.


Do I look too old? I ask.

Already I'm beginning to regret having put the question ...

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now those eidolic dread horses have scarred your slumber, passed 9, passed 10,  and even your furniture has silent, open mouthed, nightmares over the too soon dead, dead school friends who never ended their crossings and see, see, she stoops, in shroud  ghastly knelt as in prayer but you can’t see, see through the tricks  of light that scream “she is there”, your crumpling chest  boiling as the bo...

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Also by Paul Sands:

sin came first | breathe |

apparitionsghostssamuel beckettspectresspooksthings that go bump in the night

Life In Twenty Fourteen

A little bit of scream here


Ice crystals stare from an open bottle

Water melts down your aging arm

Fire burns in your turbelent soul

A glowing mist in a black hole


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This life, these actions, the situations,

the people I meet, cars I drive, places I go.

All of the above make a life, my life.

What do you make of it?

The same as I do or something different?

Do you sum it up simply or in a complicated way?

My own views are hidden, known only to me.

Should I share them with you?

Is that wise? Not just yet.

There's more to follow...

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Where Will We Be Tomorrow? | Thread That Binds |


April Rain

Welcome overcast sky

from incessant heat


Drizzle gently falling

on freshly wet street


Feel is overwhelming

for indolence to set


With drop in mercury

and in rain to get wet


Odd for time of year

coming event it tells


Rains not lot farther

quelling of arid spells


Sprung as a surprise

catching all unaware


Speeding all measure...

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Also by Sunny Chopra:

Trading Places | Fraught Grapple | Typical Day |

anticipationexpectationfreshnessjoynaturerekindled romancerelief

I Break Everything I Touch

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I break everything I touch; At first seemingly simple- But soon too much, For my games are so nimble. My feelings out of reach- always too far to touch. And not made known through speech; I am an observer- I keep my distance; I am not a conformer- And at times lack resistance. I speak my words carefully, I am a reformer- And I shall go about it tastefully, Though always be straig...

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Also by C.L:

We Can Escape |

characterexpressionfree verse poetryfree writefriendshiphumanityinspirationlobemotivationnaturepoemspoeticpoetrypoetsredemtionrelationrhymerhyme poetrytruthunderstandingword play

remembering the terrible lizard

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remembering the terrible lizard

my blood is ink
my words the beating heart
a page of skin
tattooed  stories
etched upon it

my vinyl soul
each hiss and crackle
pop and scratch
a wrinkle on the face
of times gone past

my music cries
with fuzz guitars
and thunder drums
cacophony of chaos

my world is dark
each pinprick light
a star to gaze upon
and wonder at t...

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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Grandchildren Of The Somme | The Walkin' Man (Audio Version) | Bruises Of The Norman Yoake | Children Of The Glamned | The Bicycle Scout (21st August 1914) | Flamborough Head |

booksdigital v analoguedinosaursformat warsIT revolutionvinyl records

Some people have it, some don't

Wisdom is ageless

Some people have it

Some don't

Learn to listen 

capturing the wisdom around you

Learn to respect

those that have it

Some don't get it

Others do

Some live their whole lives

in their own stew

without a clue



Just because you are

old and grumpy

doesn't mean you

don't have it

whatever IT means

Just becaus...

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Lead me to the cross That I may feel The pains in dots as he On the way To the calvary cross. Read more on www.poemhunter.com/elema-udofa/

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Trev in Texas 2014: Austin (1)

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Image: A rainy day in Austin a rare but much needed event.

04.04.14: 24) Last night before I went to bed,

I wrote down the thoughts in my head

Inspiration flowing let it, write it down lest I forget it

After a journey that seemed to take ages

It was all in rhyme in my journal pages

Then to sleep tired an’ worn,

Awake to as cool Austin dawn

Iron borrowed tee shirts pressed, ...

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Also by Trev the Road Poet::

Trev in Texas 2014: Departure Day (At last) | Trev in Texas 2014: Departure Day (Not) | Trev in Texas 2014: The run up. |

Work In Progress

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This body is imperfect and flawed,
originating from earthly dust;
it houses a spirit searching to find
the one, true God in which to trust.

To see myself as Yahweh does,
requires mustard seed of Faith's leap
and to take tangible action
since people know that "talk is cheap".

Separated unto holiness
to accomplish His Purpose and Plan
while sharing the Salvation Message
is the whole dut...

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Also by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd:

Original Sins | Poem: Unfinished Is... | Poem: Lord, You Are... | Poem: Standard of Cooperation | Poem: Game Theory | Poem: Spoken Word | Poem: Prayer Scented Incense | Poem: Violet Muwanguzi | Poem: Silent Tears | Poem: For Just One Day | Poem: Cleanse Me Lord |

breunigchristian poetryfaithpoetryWork In Progress

Free poetry and writing competitions from April 2014

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Here's my latest blog update of free poetry and fiction competitions to help all those cash-strapped writers out there in the world. If only money grew on trees... but hang on in there, you'll get discovered at some point!


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Also by Leilanie Stewart:

Poetry video - Nautical Almanac by Leilanie Stewart | Joseph Robert's poems in Message in a Bottle magazine |

free poetry competitions

Tribute To Kurt Cobain

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This was written in tribute to the 27 Club and 20th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death  The Jimi Hendrix Experience Kurt Cobain Jim Morison Janis Joplin Sid Viscious Rock n roll reject (suicide) updated April 2014 He was the living the high life for far too long, Living it up at the top of his game, Taking liberties and singing his songs, No need to care for rights and wrongs, No ...

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A welcome return to Write out loud |


Eggsciting Easter

I'm eggshausted and eggsasperated -
I shouldn't have eggspected less
But in fact it's eggsceded my worst eggspectations
I've had too many eggs - eaten to eggsess
I'm not one for eggsageration
I prefer to be eggsact
But, I'll eggspound and eggspress myself further
For some sympathy, I wish to eggstract

Well, I took some advice from an "eggspert"
An eggstravigant egghead, called Ed

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Who Are You, William Shakespeare?

Who Are You, William Shakespeare? By Alain English

William Shakespeare, poet and the writer

The wonder of our stage, and an icon of the theatre

Will you help me, William Shakespeare?

I'm a little bit confused here

For all that I've heard said about you

I still feel I don't know you

I'm mystified and curious

In need of explanations

I hope that you can ease my mind

By a...

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Also by Alain English:

Shakespeare Authorship Debate |

Passing Tinsley Tower (for Joe Kriss)


I remember it.
The day I came.

My joked
flat cap on.

We passed
Tinsley Tower
in the rain.


Made me scream,

And now
its gone.

Blown to smithereens
in a Rotherham wind.


How much
is how much?

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Also by Ralph Dartford:

What I Heard in Sharrow Vale (for Pete Mckee) |

Beech Tree (lyric)

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Beech tree save breeze for me


Hideaway for highwaymen

high above broken ground

stealing souls

of maiden's hearts


Soaked in rain was my way

now blue skies do the same

sunny days

- are all the same


Walk away the tunnel way

to Highgate Hill and down again

find your mates

have your share


Hidaway for you and me

I wish we were born to be


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I don’t know...

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I don’t know how your love flew

gliding through my window,

fluttering, it shouted out your name,

becoming the adage of my love


Your breath dampened my skin,

opening the doors of my heart;

I want you… wandering in this festivity of feelings


I don’t know how you tied me to your arms,

feeling the sap running beside me,

a pillar of life and desire,

changing my p...

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Also by Noris Roberts:

Do not judge me, as my sin deserves | My heart learned to tolerate |

love poem

the knock

Should have been your boy

back from the game

bag of fish and chips

grin as wide as the Mersey

drunk on youth and sunshine 

still living every pass shot tackle

as he settles down in front of the box

him and the old man each with a can

to watch it all over on Match Of The Day.


Instead, it was coppers

neighbours, friends, the sad-eyed priest

it was sorry for your...

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This is no movie, no fictional story,

It’s life, nothing more nothing less,

People come people go,


And as the forgotten fades away

The memories are left behind,

The things I swore would be remembered,

Have left, and know I’m lost,

Looking for your face in a sea of big waves

I forgot I’m drowning,

Wishing that I knew you were okay,


Cause time keeps passing us...

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Also by emmy92:

Sad Story | Mystery man | Believing |

            ‘D’ MOCK CRASS Y?    AND THE RULE OF LAW   


Oh Citadel of Westminster, look down on your creation:

millions of damned and blighted lives – the remnants of a nation.

Yes, you forgot that power corrupts, and honed your fell foul skills

till power, close to absolute, finds England wracked with ills.

Now this Quixote – errant knight – tilts at your spinning members


Read and leave comments (0)



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Firing Phoenix on your shoulder
Lightens up the wavering ways,
It burns all obstacles and borders,
Leading up through all the vainness.

Qawwali music plays around,
Sunlight is shining from your eyes,
The feet sometimes don't touch the ground,
And baby's smile illumes the mouth.

'So let the sky brighten up our worlds,
Repaying kindness of all hearts,
The generosity of deep souls',-
Sing playful twinkles from ...

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A bare light bulb burning
An ancient vinyl churning
Out a long forgotten tune.
A love song crackling in the gloom.
A cum stained mattress strewn
Across the floor
Waiting for the flaking bedroom door
To swing
And bring
The next abuser
Of her morals
There are no laurels,
Only losers here.
She has a need
A need to feed her habit
With eyes like a frightened rabbit
Caught in...

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We wonder amongst the ruins

Rusting trucks and cutting gear

Severed cables protruding

From weathered walls

And the pit head wheel

Still proud above us

Preserved temporarily

By municipal crumbs

And volunteer labour


Only open occasionally

For public inspection

We whisper questions


Here the miners lamps

Here the cramped cage


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Coal MiningLiverpool poetryLiverpool PoetsPoetryWelsh PoetsWelsh Poets.David SubacchiWrexham.

Illegal Government of Ukraine

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When paranoia the gang has,

It throws the propaganda information

And all the Russians they would hang,

As not the Ukrainian population.


When dragons and chimera

In the illegal admin appear

They write the laws of terra

Which frighten you with fear.


Their poisonous will and power

Can bring every man to death.

With every coming hour

The news runs out of brea...

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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Only Once the Spring Comes | The first or the last ...? |


Carbon Shaped Life-forms

Carbon Shaped Life-forms



     Aye, carbon based we are,

Carbon based within integrations

Of H2O,

     And it’s not just molecular,

It’s not just cells though,

We may be ‘carbon based’ but,

We make angles of our carbon forms,


     Ninety degrees of humanity,

One-eighty degrees an animal,

We move we flow,

We structure our courtship

With one another ...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

In Every Day An Hour |

That other place

Drifting into overwhelming

and obligatory strangenesses.

Leaving behind the command of time.

I am beyond the touch

of its unexplained momentum.


Here many visions

inscribing themselves in ripples

on the shadowed fluidity

of nothingness pulsating

in its own excellence.


Awakening day breathes a newness.

Enigmatic magicality

having performed so many dark...

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THE MENIN GATE -11 November 2013 (Music Setting)

Written following the ceremony on November 11, 2013, a copy has been received by the Adjutant,

Wellington Barracks SW1.  The poem is especially relevant this year...the 100th anniversary of the

start of World War One - "the war to end all wars".  This version is included in a forthcoming CD

of my work called "Poetry To Please".  


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Easter All Rapped Up

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Thank god it’s Good Friday - come what may

Just don’t expect me to kneel and pray

I’m a doubting Thomas - a non believer

A lapsed catholic with cabin fever

If you are of a religious persuasion

Elevate yourself - rise to the occasion

Hallelujah praise the lord

Jesus loves you - climb on board

Crucify yourself - make that connection

Check it out right now - here comes the ...

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Quoth Both


My daughter brought a Jackdaw in the house

And grief introduced itself


Melancholic and wounded

It hunched in the corner of the room

She fed him her loving eyes

Bread in tweezers

And named him Poe


Then this sanctuary

Took him

She phoned every night

He was mending well and with the magpies...

He was in the biggest aviary...

He was set free.

But w...

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Brevette Poems (Second Edition)

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I wrote this second edition at the suggestion of M.C. Newberry



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Also by Shirley Smothers:

How am I going to Explain This? |

BrevettePoemsecond world war


At ten past ten; ten fifty-five;
at midnight, then at five past one
slowly clapping clock-hands clapped
again, and slowly carried on.
Four twenty passed; five twenty five;
six thirty; seven thirty five;
sleep eluded me all night, now
I’m compelled to look alive.

Read and leave comments (0)

April Collage Poem

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Flowers of colour under summer blue

Daisy chains bind maidens tight

Bluebells ring out their charming spell


The river's reflection may not be

what you want to see


The seasons shout hello but whisper goodbye

Spring colours into life; grey memories, white swans

neglected lighthouses



I would like to wish you all well

as I can't think of anything ...

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Stockport Collage Poem


Is it the game winning shot

Is it thelasting mark we leave

Is it the continuation of our story

or the continuation of anothers story

Is it ours to have or ours to represent

Is it the focus of our actions,

on something greater than ourselves

Is it having that one thng that cant be taken,

a purpose for the thing we call life

Do we find it in religion, or in others, 

or ...

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Also by some dude:

Lost |

Just enough to get you through



She was a romantic, warm hearted, sentimental fool in a very cold world, the type of world that sometimes seemed to have no refuge for dreamers and those that believe in true love.   At times she would feel loves warm rays dance briskly across her face and the seeds of self worth in her heart would just for an instant anticipate the beginning of spring and the end of her winter.  The spr...

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My Love

"It isn't love", he said
"Any love would know this isn't love", he said
And so I sat.
And in those hours
I asked my love to leave.

I slept.
And when I woke
my love woke too,
and everywhere I went that day
my love was there.
"Don't dwell", I told my love.
My love just smiled.
And I knew my love would stay with me.

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Offenders and books

As a proper poet I must have an unasked-for and misinformed opinion about the issues of the day. Here's my thoughtful response to the offenders/books debate:

My advice to offenders

The great and the good have decided
That you don't get no books at all
'Cos all you'll do is pile 'em high
To try to climb over the wall

So to conceal your block and tackle in
Swap your snout for a bloody big t...

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Comedy Poetry comedy verse politics

oo i ow


Do you know where Hoy is?
Heard of the Old Man
(back to him in a minute)
But do you know where it is?
The Orkneys.
God's backyard.
A golden place for our silver wedding holiday.
Caught the ferry to Hoy,
Wanting to see the Old Man,
As you do.
No sign of the hand of man, 
old or young,
in the wild windswept centre,
just the road and the heather. 
And then some cheery, elderly ramb...

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