Poetry Blogs (May 2014)

Popular last 30 days

Sonny

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Praised to the skies

by a musicologist

when all

he had done

was play the blues

he took time off

to clear his head.

Without

a padded loft

or a tumbledown

woodshed

in the Lower

East Side

of crowded

Manhattan

he blew his sax

come rain or shine

way up on the Bridge.

 

 

 

 

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Reaching for the Spaces in Between

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This title has been following me around for years and maybe can settle here for a while.  I do have another blog languishing out there (roonvallack@blogspot.com) but have not visited to play for ages.  I'm looking forward to being part of this community and posting writing that I enjoy or have written and hopefully spinning into the other blog to post photos and news of Rack and Roon Vallack.

T...

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"SPOKES" review

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Delighted to see that the Yorkshire anthology of bike poems has got a nice review in the current issue of

"CYCLE - the magazine of the famous Cyclists Touring Club - with many thousands of members.

Poetry reaching out again....and even more pleasing to this member and contributor from WOL.

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Also by M.C. Newberry:

GRAFFITI - an age-old habit | BILLY CONNOLLY | BOWDEN HILL DAYS | JEREMY CLARKSON |

Spokes

Malefic Condescension: Wrought by You II

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Drawing worthless diction as fire,


    Unqualified lucid pictures of muted clouds entitled hope, Inaudibly described via a depravity of discord, A torrential malady choir of misshapen atonement deficit cast foreseen just libel out angels, Whose eyes re filled with numb denouncement matriarchal Lilith established garden of misery over marionette's adorned with the purposeful threat of silence ...

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Also by Juton, Villain of Truth:

Malefic Condescension: Wrought by You I | Malefic Condescension: Dose of Heaven... | Hive Mind: Seething Vocal Discord II | Hive Mind: Seething Vocal Discord I | Malefic Condescension: Shedding Heaven's Walls I | To a Church II | Cosmo Dark Canyon I |

acceptanceequalityjutonsocial commentaryspoken wordvillain of truthvillainoftruth

The cost of fascination

When the falling corpse

Extinguishes the flame,

The Moth or the Candle,

Which is to blame?


 

And who is to blame

When both have been used,

When each trusting heart

Is mangled and bruised?


 

It cannot be helped.

Each Siren must sing.

The needle points North

And Hope must take wing.


 

Those made of iron

May skirt round the fact,

But you can't ...

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Also by Dave Bradley:

Ancient Chinese Proverb | The Woman of Hoy |

Funfair

Posters – depicting your attraction
were long ago hollered and rolled up
into human curiosity of loquacity.
Sights and signs remain crystal bright.
The fortune teller sees to that.

 

How I strip teased round ribboned pole
winding that prize in disguise was the yow
I knew. Then not chosen to be May queen,
I helter skeltered to hate, heal, redeem
tortured by silence amongst the crowd.

...

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Also by Katy Megan Hughes:

Of Lilith and Anthony e-book available soon! |

lovelove poem

The Brave and The Battered

The Brave and the Battered

 

(Pushing Through Life With Scattered Their Hearts)

 

     In-line hypnosis,

We all know it happens

We all fear it,

We all wonder in later years

Why is it, there is something

Missing from memory,

 

     Everyone’s looking on,

Brushing over the details

In favour of exasperation,

     And they’re all marvelling

At such a vivid ...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

An Essay On State Sponsored Child Abuse | The Love You Knew We Could Be | 'Like An Angry Woman' | Considered Fit for Human Consumption | The Government Standard | In Our Hands Everything - But Worlds |

Eros

Once again i feel the breath of darkness

A breeze over my right ear

Unsettling yet so comforting

A lost lover made of memory and pain

The smoke from my cigarette burns through the atmosphere

And that knot in my throat keeps getting tighter and tighter

Your past love is creeping under my skin

Like a serpent just eating my flesh away

How i have missed that cold shiver of love

...

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Also by Drapetomania:

The cup |

Descent

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I see a face at the window

Looking from behind the shroud, stopwatch readied

Senses on edge, pieces

Of a shell

Reformed and moulded, a two-way mirror.

 

It hurts and pains the soul in me

From a glass-house, safe sanctuary

Brightened box

A beacon in this desolate night?

Or a slab of ice I broke, too thin?

 

On the edge of the pond

No light to see fish by

Th...

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Also by David Blake:

In the Temples of the Elders | Hydra | The Heights |

2012

The Circus

The mystic rain Pours  From the umbrella sky In a rainbow  Of shining puddles Laying beneath What went before Leaving no answers As the dying questions Fizzle  In the half light Left by the place Where the sun Used to be In the space Between shadows your soul Hiccups Whilst your mind  Dances And you whisk Yourself away Into The infinity Of madness Where a world Spins ...

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Also by Twilbury Wist:

Change | The Bridge | Stones | My Hat | Tamed | To say what could not be said | Two score years and none | Traffic | Waiting in Hell | Heartless | Some People |

Everything Is Documented

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A damp light from a table candle flickers,

revealing tomorrow’s faeces

– braised red cabbage, filet of beef

and a quarter glass of red wine.

Everything is documented.

 

The pout, strained through the rush of alcohol

at a flash that shows lifelessness

behind heavily mascaraed eyes.

All for show, an image portrayed

to those that follow, but how hollow

the bones that ...

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the small matter of a white screen at midnight

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the small matter of a white screen at midnight

the mocking cursor blinks upon the screen
and my flagging muse sinks
still unable to find links
and then little englyn winks

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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Passchendaele (Autumn 1917) | Slamming Flies | the vegetable man | Home By Christmas | Under The Bridge | Digital Clock Blues |

blank screenenglyn formovercoming writers blockwriters block

MY STRUGGLE

MY STRUGGLE

 

GROWING UP, FEELING LIKE A MOTHERLESS CHILD

WHO NEVER GOT ANY JUSTICE

BUT, AFTER YEARS, OF HARD WORK AND RESEARCHIG LIFE

IT STILL LEFT ME TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS

HOW GOD, WELCOMES EVERYONE IN HIS HEART, EACH AND EVERY DIFFERENT WAY

AND SINCE, I AM OF LEO DECENDENT

ESOTERIC SCIENCE WAS THE WAY TO GET MY ATTENTION

IT WAS JUST SOMETHING ABOUT ASTROLOGY, THAT...

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Poem: Morning Star

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Lord, You are the only Morning Star.
Nothing else compares to your brilliance,
a penetrating light that pierces...

...the darkness of our hearts
...the blackness of our sins
...the abyss of our human emotion

Being the source of Dunamis power,
You shine an eternal beam of radiance.
For unlike other stars, You'll never burn out.

 

 

Author Note:

Learn more about me and my poetry ...

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Also by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd:

Poem: Higher Ground | Poem: No Earthly Good | Poem: Petitions to God | Poem: Computer Geek | Poem: Chained to Myself | Poem: Losing Myself | Poem: Lot's Wife | Poem: Chronic Indecision | Poem: Come Forth! | Poem: Can You Really Love Me So? | Poem: Nakedness of Life |

breunigchristian poetryfaithMorning Starpoetry

Robbing Dylan

Robbing Dylan

 

Come gather round people wherever you roam,

And admit that your hips and your buttocks have grown,

And accept we could lose at least two or three stone

Just think of the money we’re saving,

So we’d better start slimming not stand there and moan,

For the times they are a changing.

 

Come restaurant critics who prophesy with your pen,

Your mouths are wid...

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Also by Ian Gant:

Sweallows on Whitestone Hills |

Sunken Forests

Sunken Forests

Cardigan Bay, Ceredigion and Turvin Moor, Yorkshire

4000 years ago trees buried in the peat by a changing climate

Oak Pine Alder Willow and Birch stumps linked and lost  

 

Cantre’r Gwaelod in folklore tells of a Welsh Atlantis flooded 

Gates were left open drowning the forest, now lost in time

A wild wood forgotten, secrets safe under the sea

 

The Yorks...

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Also by Graham Ramsden:

Poets Pathways |

Listless 2

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When blue no longer
feels so blue when
time no longer stretches
but refuses to pass at pace
moments are never fleeting

Walking and searching for
windy days eyes aching with fear
like the secound hand on
a watch or a silver tankard once
so often sipped or glugged now dry stopped

Life feels adjacent foreign
and lost consumed ambiguous
absent at best motionless yet
moving isolated cr...

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Also by Richard Alfred:

Listless | Wind and Tide |

My Darling Psychopath

If all you told were lies,

I heard only truth.

If manipulative were your motives,

I was putty in your hands.

If you used me for excitement,

I was thrilled for you.

If your emotions were all feigned,

I was your audience, suspended by the fiction.

If love you never felt,

I loved it for you,

And if conscience, you had none,

I was moral for us both.

 

Do you hide...

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loveMental Illness

Loam

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You are the tree that grew inside me
when I swallowed your stone whole.

When I spoon-fed you with silvern words
you rooted in my deep.

Each morning I’m reborn by you
polishing the dawn till it blossoms in pink.

Exchanging moss coated whispers
our rain softened glances trickle between us.

I am grafted to the notches on your spine.
Spiralling together, we reach for the light.

Cal...

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lovenature

THE RED ROOM

There's a boy
In a house
In a room
Thinking of you.

There's a girl 
In a house
In a room
Thinking of you.

There's a boy
There's a girl
Who believe
They are in the same room.

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Also by Em:

THE AFTERMATH OF A BROKEN HEART | CRAVING YOU |

love

Sleep Walking

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Sleep Walking

 

Who can sleep

When we’re sleep walking into hell

Your neighbour growing

Fascist views

Planting the seeds of a bitter mess

 

Who can sleep

When we are sleep walking

Into hell

Whose children

Will next be kicked in groin

because they are “foreign and they smell”

 

Who can sleep

When the pounder is at the door

You may resist

But it’...

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Also by David R Mellor:

UKIP IF YOU WANT TO | Two, as it were, locked in a room you and me | Heart Broken | Little boat .... |

Grand Words 1 act playwriting Competition 2014

Grand Words is a one act play writing competition run in conjunction with the Grand Theatre Blackpool for people in the north west of England and Yorkshire. It has run at the Grand since 2009 and is about to launch its search for plays for 2014. Winners receive £100, a trophy they keep for a year and a presentation of their work in the Grand Studio theatre, Blackpool. Work should be written for th...

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competitionsplaysplaywrightswriters

13:31

Thirteen Thirteen Thirty One
I Sat In The Barbers Chair
Paid My Money To Leave A Little Balder
Picked Up A Paper
Ten Year Old Dies Of Cancer
Turned The Page
Became The Page Turner
Next Article Read;
Six Year Old Drowned With Pet Cat By Mother
Turned Out Mother Was A Drug Addict and Had A Bad Trip
I Once Went To Eastbourne
That Trip Wasn't Much Better
Turned Another Page
The Page Turne...

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Also by R.C Morose:

Poet Tree. |

deathlifepoetrytime

I Remember Bren

tattooed, sweat drenched, confessional, this rose sopped ecstasy I maybe tested through a full glass yet, my word, your flavour so fresh as the closest and sweetest kept secret, tasted: tested: approved as complicit dew through years of spilt guilt, when ventured pleasure ordered, I, insect twixt the lingered crawl along villous cinnamon and apricot stole, long reflections through the viscid, over...

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Also by Paul Sands:

Goodnight America | Nothing But | Confession Bowl | Siege Engine |

lustmemoriespassion. illicitwishful

 

 

 

Beset current despondency

goads me again to express

 

Reason for disenchantment

and issues crucial  address

 

It’s not just plain strangers

but ones considered as own

 

Despite all indulged civility

apathy in return got shown

 

Kept seeking sane rationale

 searched the very core inside

 

Answers did never justify

with none to stand be...

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ReflectionregretRetrospection

Gladiolus

Gladiolus

She ate sliced ham out of a zip-lock bag,
standing beside me on the subway platform
with her side-tilted hat showing she was
all spunk and all seriousness, making me
feel absurd to be holding these gladiolus
and heading to the far west side of the city
where my sweet friends with an Irish accent
had just had a baby removed.  

This girl with her hat and her ham and I
watched...

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Also by Jane Ozkowski:

After Everyone is Dead | Diner |

Flowersfriendshipmodern life

Disappear and Kissing my every Scent

two of my poems 'Disappear' and 'Kissing my every thread' are due out at issue 11 of Ariadne's Thread http://www.ariadnethread.net/index.php/the-authors/247-andy-n  today. not seen my copy yet but made up over this. 

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Also by Andy N:

New Poem published on Perfectly Write Poetry |

weights

I balance things-one lonely day on top of another.

A ring on one finger,your goodbye letter in the other

and the ten years in between that we were happy.

 

While my heart is warmed by what happiness we shared

it still is out balanced by the lonely days

and I stare at your smiling photograph .

With what concentrated sadness I stare at it.

 

Maybe soon,I'll have to unbalan...

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The Explosion

Silent the ground and everything around

Until explosion is found 

Explosion ignites us from dead slumber amongst wonder

We explode like thunder

Become just younger, drunker and then make blunder

Loud the ground aroused by sound

Now explosion is found

Explosion dies from the wonder then into black slumber

We explode like thunder

Return to dead soul, until the explosion.

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Once You See Light

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photo credit: Bill Cottman Once You See Light by J. Otis Powell?! In response to Of What Use Is Poetry? by Amiri Baraka The question is meant to probe into how we carry weight through life, how we work through thickness talk through touching. I see what I see because of a prescription in my eyes. You see what you see separate and esoteric. Poetry is how eyes meet. Rhythm of hearts...

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

from How Deep is the Sky | excerpt from Ever Ready |

Deression imp

Creeping up your stairs at night, As you lay asleep in bed, The depression imp slides in your room, And straight inside your head, He starts to play his little game, Your at his beck and call, Whispering all bad thoughts, Your dreams begin to fall, You start to doubt your confidence, Along with hope and will, He's eating your very essence, ...

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My Inner Child

I know you've encountered the Angel of Death

She visited you before

Don't worry my child, you will be fine

Your smile will return once more

 

She was taken by the angel

Like a trophy, like a prize

Intangible to you now

Little girl, close your eyes

 

A heart so young, yet troubled

Childhood catapulted to weary unknown

Be strong, stand tall and carry on

You can...

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Poets Good and Bad

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Some Poets and Artists

Are good at their craft

but lack humility and humanity

Some politicians are crafty

but are monsters of egoism

and never keep their promises

Who is to assess who is good or bad

Who out there can play God

Everybody has moments of brilliance

Everybody can be a hero,

not a zero

Some advance themselves

at the expense of others

Some socialis...

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Spectral

squirming words,

squabbling, fighting, reeling words

sore with myself.

so sore with myself

a world of regret,

begets

this absence of you

 

O! I wish I could turn words into wishes.

O! I wish my days would fall into line

my eyes rise for you

without the slightest disguise

for you

 

so

this evening is so heavy, the rain has been & gone,

these days’ and...

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Also by John E Marks:

Words you remember |

Virtuosa

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(The angel in the photo is from a window in Selby Abbey.  I want her to collect me when I throw a six)

 

Any guitarist will tell you once you drop a plectrum onto the floor it will never be found again; it is lost to the world forever.

Among God’s hierarchy of cherubims and seraphims, angels and archangels, one is tasked to make divine music, Virtuosa; and her instrument of choice is the ...

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Also by John Coopey:

The Moorland Train | Google Never Forgets | Cyclist's Cock | Clifford's Tower - A Villanelle |

The Single Man

At lunchtime I pop into Tesco’s -

Bad timing for speed

But I need a few things for tea.

 

There’s a long line at the speedy self-service

And the counters and cashiers are worse

So I fall into last place of baskets only

Sighing

When I spot a clear counter

With a new cashier!

 

I move fast

And beat a laden cart to first place.

Hard on my heels darts a young ma...

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Pearl

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She is a rare vision of beauty

An exceptional elusive find

A gem of unique perfection

Natural and one of a kind

The world is her oyster

She is no ordinary girl

The jewel in my crown

She is as pure as a pearl

 

 

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Also by Tom Doolan:

Eminem Ain't Amused |

Her & Bear

Her & Bear

 

There was once a girl with a Teddy Bear

The teddy bear was part of her

 

They played, they cuddled they had such fun

They’d sing and dance and laugh and run

 

And then one day she met a boy

Who wished to take care of her toy

 

She loved that boy with all her heart

She always thought they’d never part

 

The boy was mean he hurt the bear

He k...

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Also by Ged Thompson/ A Liverpool Poet:

The philosopher in the antique shop | What if |

emotionsfearhealing.hidinghopepain

White Feathers

 

White feathers flying in the air

Passing, floating seemingly

Without a care

Unreachable, untouchable

Moving far away

Nowhere to be caught

To be bound trapped, in a snare

 

Some form an almost orderly line

Showing the anguish and the pain

Of the killing ground

A brief encounter

With barely a sound

 

A small trail of blood

Marks the spot

Where a c...

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Also by Martin Elder:

I want more |

Floating in Space

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Floating-In-Space-vanished-Manchester/dp/1499516002/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1402492784&sr=1-1

I feel a bit cheeky advertising here, but one of the perils of self publishing is that if you don't take advantage of the internet, nobody will hear about your work; my book is now available as a kindle e-book or as a paperback.

 

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manchesternovel

Goldfinch

There is a Goldfinch

singing

on 

my 

aerial

on

roof

above

the

town

I am

truly

blessed

the

Victorians

used

to 

keep them 

in

cages.

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Also by Neil Francis Brooks:

Clutter | A day full of dreaming | The Lady in the supermarket | These towns | The day the rain came back again. |

Days

Three days since you told me you love me
And two since you kissed me on the cheek.

Four since you rang me up accidentially
And six since you tripped over your cat in the kitchen.

Seven since you kicked me out of bed over my snoozing
And eight since you set your toaster on fire.

Five since you misplaced your keys blaming me
And yesterday since you swore at the Postman
Yelling into the...

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dream a dream....

dream a dream,

so unreal and fragile.

don't open your eyes,

for it might slip away.

and take with it,

your tanquility and

your sane existence.

and you are then

but an empty shell.

with tattered curtains,

to wrap the wounded soul.

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Also by Lory Gaur:

Him and Her | Rain | she to herself... | You |

The Last March

He sits on the front porch, And just closes his eyes. As the clouds gather over his head, And lightning flashes across the skies. His mind reverts; Back to all of yesterday's severed ties, He can hear in the distance, The faint murmur of muffled sobs and cries. His lips move not; his speech has since died, His eyes however, remain ever pensive. And even a cursory g...

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bloodeyes.lastlightningmarchraintearsThethunder

The life and works of Joe Bo.

I favour the meatent of the moment,

over this hopscotchery,

whiled the wiley stable boy to princess,

you life does lack an authortron,

you oughter turn on the switch,

(((((((TO BE CONTINUED)))))))) 

 

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Also by Average Joe:

(untitled) | I will unlearn another language. |

The Flower and the Bee

Softer than skin
And sweeter than nector
This lovely little rose
So lucky to have met her

People walk by and enjoy the face
Of this pretty little rose
What an interesting race

A combination of green and a rare light pink
This overwhelming aroma that'd make you sink

I wonder what's her story
If she's truly happy or sad
She seems dry
Maybe just a tad

The thoughts begin to rush i...

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Wayward

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I wanted you right from the start.

As soon as I saw you, all shiny and showing,

inquisitive shimmerings leapt in my neurons,

grew fast and furious, battering synapses,

crashing through cortices,

carrying fire.

 

Bewitched! A thousand fantasies sparked and swirled in frontal lobes.

You shifted shape from mind to page,

drew me in, singing from a sheet I thought we sha...

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richpix

355, Flat 2, at 21

I remember, sat tracing spirals
with a heavy foot as she chopped
courgette, hissing from the pan,
“Wack abit more garlic in love”
Quote notes tacked on the wall,
Silly ash droppings on the floor,
"Must sweep that before mum comes”
 
“Who stole my last slice of bread?”
Flame haired flatmate running late and
running out.
“Yes it does matter!”
(I found maggots in t...

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Also by Charlotte:

Spring | Seasons | I Saw Myself! |

youth

ZAZEN

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SIT...AND... THE WORLD STOPS MOVING.

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Also by Aki Saito:

ZEN | THERE IS NO SECRET | LET GO | RIPPLES IN THE WATER | THE EVOLUTION OF YOU |

Zen insight

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