Poetry Blogs (Aug 2014)

Popular last 30 days

The nearly was man

entry picture

Staggering, stumbling
Faltering, fumbling
Muttering, mumbling

Last time I saw him
He was heading into town
He looked the other way,
crossed over, now a loner

I’d spoken to him before
Not making much sense
But in a way I understood
He talked of better times

Times of running the show, running on self will
But with the high life he rapidly went downhill
The times he nearly made the...

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Alcohol just gives me a bad head..Mushrooms gave me love and understanding..Bad head? Love and understanding? Bad head? Love and understanding? It's a hard choice..But most people choose the bad head...that's why everyone's so fucking angry and miserable. That's what's wrong with the world.. They tell me love is a drug..and if there is any drug I want to be addicted to it's that one. But love like...

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In the name of God and Satan

(I'm aware this is a controversial poem and I hope not to offend anyone but I make no conclusions, I only ask questions)

The nature was deteriorating.
The sky was falling down,
raining pieces of ashy soot,
crashing and burning
and you weren't there.
Why weren't you there?
The birds squawked and screeched
and in-between their cries were mine, calling
and I was reaching out to you.
I ask...

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Also by Alexandra Parapadakis:

The mute speaker |



You suddenly said you had to go;

That was when I came to know

That hello sometimes means goodbye.

Now I know enough to not ask why.

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


Shooting Angels

Most of us
We try
To scratch out
A living
With our broken bics
Blood and ink
Dripping meanly 
In a vague attempt 
To trace the idea 
Of a future
From somewhere 
Deep inside
And paint it 
Against the world
With its cruel way 
Of crumbling dreams 
Just before 
We reach them
Or wake up 
Or both

And we struggle so
To make sense 
Of this endless 
Envying the wings

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Also by Twilbury Wist:

Water and sand | Dust n bones | The Way | The Horses Don't Run | The Truth | Journey man | The Witch | Walking | The Bone Shaker | Empty plate | Retreat | Mother Hen | Bombay Train | Pieces of life | Looking Glass | Bugs | Parents | Teacher man | Water and Air | Orphans | Deity | Apeman | A Prose Poem- the forgotten memory | Honestly Dishonest |


I see you know the ways to glow your bodies floating nowhere to go cash money that's all you know your womanly curves showing words through sight and sound you have no disgust no regrets somehow you undress willingly you let them see you let them see with all too bare but that's the way you were trained no underwear pantie...

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Full up

The drain, the drain

It's gurgling too much

Shit covering the grate

Now housing the land

Overflowing, no bowing

Rattling the door

no one answers

Curtains twitch

No reply

Standing back,


The shute overflowed

spreading like a disease

Watch it grow,

It flows, 

It grows


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Also by Quiet Comet:

Waking up to reality | The words of God | Only in Bangkok | The Dreaded Haircut | Mind Game | Big Man | Beautiful photos | Oh Katy | (untitled) | A million miles away | The order of the sandwich | The same but different | Dreams collide | Bertha | Wide Awake | Wooden Bridges |

The Undies Moment


I glimpse your eyes fixed on me.


"Would you like to help me fold?"


"I thought you'd never ask."


© Candice Reineke 2014

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Also by Candice Reineke:

I Feel Fall | All I Want to Do is Write | The Beach: My Remedy |


I still picture your eyes and think of how I felt when you looked into mine. I remember your lips but it breaks my heart to think of the person now kissing them. The truth is,dying is better than LIVING MY SAD LIFE WITHOUT YOU...and remembering that you don't love me anymore. How long and fruitful is it to live this live in tears,knowing that you will never walk in to my lonely heart? ...

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My experince with Odin

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Please forgive me if there is typos.


I sit at the altar, waiting for his reply,

Humbled by his presence.

I feel him there, his overwhelmingly strong, yet respectful vibe.

"What is it my son" He asks.

" Why did you choose me father"

He replys " I saw before you were born, by the fate of the norns,  what you would be. I saw how much courage that heart of yours holds"

Thank ...

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Also by Rollo:

Battle is coming | Take me home | Thorsday | Onsdag | Betrayal | The cry of the black birds | I was lost, but now I'm found |


Glimpses of equilibrium


of a swallow

clouds away.




sauntering nearby.


A freeness



my thinking


carries away


of so many.


My mind

is pardoned



from watching


unbalancing itself


in a way

I can do

nothing about

except pray


but hope God

doesnt know


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Heartbreak Hotel

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Well since Sir Alex left us

Old Trafford’s citadel

Is not the Theatre of Dreams it was –

More like Heartbreak Hotel.


Well since old Fergie left us

The men have played like boys

We never blamed the players though

We just blamed David Moyes

We thought him a phoney

He talked such baloney

When he bought Fellaini

I could cry.


Well since young David lef...

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Also by John Coopey:

Bus Pass Virgin | RYAN AIR |

Fairy Tail


Manchester's gay hamlet

has long since been a sanctuary

for parlor princesses to sway their tits free

from thick veined impalers who skirted the moat;

their hot swords smoking from pint piss.


One often forgets that

cemented with the secret elixir

 of man's love for man's folly;

it was a safe and sordid Avalon.


Often lulled by the music

or some other bul...

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Also by CathyLCrabb:

Raineth |

gay villagesanctuary

I had to remove this from my samples due to my beliefs being completely different from when I first ever published this but thought Id keep it on here.
Looking back at all these poems and you can tell how immature I was, very simple poetry, not saying I can do better but didnt want to dispose of this due to me feeling it at the time....many a year ago

Gods got my back.

Is anything there

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Poem: Show of Hands

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Despite the differences of skin color
and our cultural upbringings,
we're more than brothers of Mankind -
Technically, we're kin.

Go to the mountain
preserved by ice and snow
where the revelation of Ararat's secret
is available for everyone to know.

For the ark's existence
proves the global flood story is true
and being our brother's keeper...
Is still a right thing to do.


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Also by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd:

Poem: Drawn To You | Poem: Captivated By The Light | In Remembrance of Grandma - Poem & Background | Poem: Dust (Humor) | Behind the Poem: Enjoy This Season | Poem: Human Matrix | Behind the Poem: Enoch | Behind the Poem: Evening Sky | Poem: Eternal Wellspring | Poem: Experiencing God | Poem: No Elaborate Pretense | Haikus: Exerpt #4 from: Hook, Line & Haiku |

breunigchristian poetryfaithpoetryShow of Hands


Trimming insect-laden hedges
I discern a slowing growth
as sunlight rations rampant shoots;
a shift and shedding has begun.

The grass will grow more hesitant
and idle blades forget their foe.
Spades will lean to spiders’ work
and mine will more or less be done

though respite heralds damp decay
and masking mists, and
ankle deep in slicking leaves
again, my efforts are undone.


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Well now, maybe I’ll tell now some of my story

No glory here though

I was a fifty’s baby. A lucky baby maybe

Some would say when everything was grey

I was born to it

When you wore a suit  to go for a shit

As long as it was grey, or black

Looking back it would seem I was part of

Conceived at the start of

A changing, rearranging youth.

The ...

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Also by Pete Slater:


Take Me Home

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Take me Home

I’m waiting for the bus
To drive me home
So that I can cry alone

Leaving behind
A beautiful face

One I trace now …
On the …

back of this leather seat 
knowing that there’s nothing that can bring you back 



for the bus…

To drive me home
So that I won’t be alone

With words that we’re though

Ticket collector stares 
at my watery eyes 
Counting out the pe...

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Also by David R Mellor:

Tell Me Who Cares |



Not old enough to vote or wed

or give consent,

but old enough to be transferred                   

by men to men;



Not old enough to drive a car,

have overdrafts or credit cards,

but old enough to be exchanged;




Not old enough to live alone or own a home,

but old enough to be deceived;

to be perceived as third and four...

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Also by Laura Taylor:

Twisted Harvest | Ward 3D |

child sexual exploitationRotherham

Blessed are we

Blessed are we

As the morning night, does turn to grey, We see the coming of the breaking day
Birds will sing their morning cries, to welcome back the morning skies
Fluttering their wings up in the trees , enjoying the touch of the morning breeze
Clouds will drift and float away, bringing the promise of a beautiful day
Creatures that moved throughout the night, disappeared, now out of sight

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Also by Biscuit:

Light or dark | The friend I love | Capture your beauty | The guy | The end | Walking the dog |

Feel good

Made In Correspondence

My cat, beside me takes up 


And I say that although

It isn't true

Because it sounds better

Than sitting alone

A year or two of empty

Lunch table

Brown shit chairs

With cold legs

That stare back at you

Evil experience of your lunch-face

While me and my PMS Lucifer 

Lay comfortably on the edge

Feet curled up on the wood holding 

A lumpy mattress...

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The Rules

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Do not describe the sunset, regardless. Never
write about the buttery moonrise,
especially near the beginning: everyone
just switches off, and if they don’t
they should.

Do not mention war; any of the many.
Those possibilities are nothing to do with me.
They belong to others, to a family friend
who knows mountainsides blooming
great mushrooms of dust.

Everyone has had enough of trees...

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contemporary poetryGraham CliffordPoetrywriting


Ting Tongs in Bong Bongo Land.....

it's all becoming clear.

UKIP's policy statements

were penned by Edward Lear.

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Also by Attila the Stockbroker:

(untitled) |

UKIP; politics; Lear;


they shared each others juices

they shared each others gas

both thought of perpetuity

something which didn't last

both found other partners

the years rolled quickly past

but juice and gas and earth-i-ness

are things that sometimes clash

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Also by Philipos:


Ice Ice Baby

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Hey good people what’s going down
Iced water is flowing all over town
Everybody tells me it’s just a craze
It’s got me in a complete daze
Why haven’t I yet been nominated?
I am becoming increasingly frustrated
Cold and soaking wet is the way to go
You too can be the star of the show
When am I going to make a splash
And be relieved of a load of cash
Could it be my lucky day maybe?
Bring ...

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Also by Tom Doolan:

Heaven Help Us (Robin Williams R.I.P.) |


These memories fade into me

Each time I gather

They become seamless


They've woven themselves into the stars


Beauty as they are

It is my past


To the melody of my soul

I caught them dancing

As if they didn't mind the memories that cried

They thought them loveliness


Please watch for when they fall

That is you or I falling to harmonize



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I remember staring

past your shoulder.

I remember reading to you 

the lines you have now left

in another's sand. 

I read your words as 

some acknowledgement,

acknowledgement of its past

though our shoulders

were always in the way.

I apologise for this.

My miss-spellings are 

my way of saying sorry. 


words and foto  T Carroll

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Also by Tommy Carroll:

Left Luggage | Traffic | She watched him waiting | The Touching | Hockey anyone? | Algiers |

The Shadows On The Wall

I fade into the darkness, like the shadows on the wall Nobody hears my cries, nobody notices when I call
Although I scream I am here! the words just won’t fall
I fade into the darkness, like the shadows on the wall.   When the night comes calling, then you might see me,
Just a mere reflection of the man I used to be
My life is now over, the end is yet to come,
I am the man in the sha...

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Anthony R M AndrewsBullyingHeartbreaklonelinessPainSuicide

Oh! My Dilemma

The moment you shown dilemma
Whether to stop or to move on,
Has put me on to a dilemma
Whether to stop or to move on.

Life looks playing a mock
And wants me to weap,
That seems flirting with luck
And made me to wait and peep.

The moment you shown dilemma
Whether to slap or to smile,
Has put me on to a dilemma
Whether to be sorry or to smile.

Your innocense seems hurted a lot
And has made me to be sorry,
But the...

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The Blessed Man

The sun rose bleakly

But the old man said,

“Hail to the morning!

I am not yet dead.


I have music to hear

And words to be read;

Enough in the cupboard

To see me fed.


Through the march of years

Many tears I’ve shed.

And my greatest friends

Have long since fled.


But at close of this day

I may lay my head

Upon the sheets

Of my own warm bed.


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

Wishes |

Force of Nature

Lay me down in river's rush,

carry me to the shore,

dry my skin in the smile of the sun,

-leave me wanting more.


Take my hand through meadow's mist,

scent my hair with flowers,

show me love with one sweet kiss,

share with me night's hours.


Dress and clothe me - leaf and moss,

be my love forever,

take me far but keep me close,

- nature bound together

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for Grant Tarbard


Northern kids, their futures

predictable, they grafted dourly

five days a week down pits, in shops

and on the factory floor –

paying their way with some left

for vinyl, speed and threads.


Travelling miles by train each

weekend with a change of clothes

and a box of classic tracks

– minor hits and rarities

by blacks the charts ignored –


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A for Apathy

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Are we just too lazy to stir,

toil and breed?

Too fey to strive for life,

our own and others'?

I guess we are.


So why knock immigrants?

Who else will clean our incontinent beds

when we are old and sad?

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Also by J F Keane:

Return of the Will | Indecisions | Hidden Source |

illegal immigrants

For Stefan Kiszko

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And always the silent smell
Of music follows
Each time his name is mentioned
Never justice,

Covered in ignored pleadings
With pinpointed accuracy
Constantly kicking
The ladder away
From his freedom

Evidence suppressed and misplaced
For 16 years
In cross currents
Of ignored medical reports

Miscarrying justice
And innocence
Constantly brushed
Under the carpets

Drawn back on ...

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A Librarians Concern

A Librarians Concern



     Once the word has been written,

You cannot necessarily erase it,

For no matter how hard you rub

The page,

     The word remains.


     You could if you so wished,

Rub so hard that the page itself,

Becomes tatty and frayed,

Leaving blemishes

Upon the page underneath,

A page that may have been

A future not yet written,


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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Who Goes There? | The Farming of Innocense | The Habitable Zone |

Big Brother.

How Dare You

How dare you say

That everything turned okay

That my dreams didn’t diminish

And that the pain could now finish

How dare you say

You would take away my fear

Give me a place to call home

And begin a dream here

How dare you say

It wasn’t you that betrayed

Whether it was the love of a daughter

Or that daughter’s real father

How dare you say

I would make it up


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Suncream, Sandwiches, Sea and Sand

Warm sheltered rock-pools on the beach

This British green and pleasant land

Where Donkeys'  poo and Seagulls' screech


Grandad’s hanky on his head

His rosy cheeks a shade of peach

His Daily Mirror long since read

Where Donkeys' poo and Seagulls' screech


Grandma’s at Bingo every night

Her handbag with her like a leech

Her rol...

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Also by Daniel Dwyran:





Amongst the bitten twigs and fur caught,
low shrubs where each of us
is half in the tree and half in the rock,
a skull the thumb size of climbing sleeps.

If you do not come back
I will untie the ribbons
from my hair and open the hollow
parts of my head to the wind.

You said I would do that
enough myself  -  my teeth cut,
my goose feather torn  -
no excuse for you 

baying in ...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Pink Tree |

Pre-Loved Skin

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(vid version http://miladysa.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/pre-loved-skin.html )


Barely worn,

impossible to tell,

the previous owner,

wore it well.


Callously made,

so you can you feel,

rich and successful,

sexy and ideal.


So this season!

Screaming to appear,

on catwalk and red carpet,

at awards and film premiere.


Dying to be worn,

bequeathing ...

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The heart

Deep inside, where the beat goes on, 
The pulsation of life, where the beat is strong
The heart is the place, the foundations of trust,
The place of emotions, Including, passion and lust. 
From the day we are born, to the last moment of breath, 
It will keep on beating, until the, inevitable death.
The mixture of emotions, That defines who we are, 
The feelings that dwell withi...

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Dog and Dragonfly

Dog and Dragonfly


On an island in the sky

'Neath the rain that paints the lives

Sits the ever-watching eyes

Breathing the ever-waiting sighs


For now we're forced to hide

Our patter of thoughts collide

Will showers of longing subside?

And our dreams remain inside?


Songs of aviary cries

Of ancient locust lullabies

Percussion pounds and will disguise


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Also by Jake Vincent Belmont:

What I Want | What I Need | Watching Headlights | Two and a Half Seasons | Touch | To Find Joy In Eating a Saltine | Through Seasons | Thoughts Spin | This Pen's First Ink | There | Untitled | The Sirens | The Sacrifice | The Eye Catching | The Bridge | Somewhere Not Forgotten | Sleep | Saddle Mountain of Fearlessness | Resistance Song | Path of Destruction | Pablo | Of The Energy | Ocean Beauty | My Project Me | My Journey | My Ache | Love (Blue Burns Black) | Lost Cause | Life Is But The Dance of The Flame | Life = Earth | Leaving California | Lapsing | Inside My Mind | In The Kitchen | I'm Taken | I Don't Get it and I'm Not Gotten | Happy Morbid | Game of Love | Fait to Wait | Eight Months in Cleveland | Daisies of Depression | Could it Be You | Company | C.W.F.A. | Beginning to End | Be Real | Back to Normal | Babylon 33 | As If | And It's Today | America the Beautiful | A Strange Epiphany | A Lonely Heart's Story |


-The ramblings of another young girl-

written: 8/20/14

People are such selfish creatures. 

They say they love picking flowers.

But when you pick a flower, you kill it. 

People take another living things life,

just so they can have the pleasure of looking at it. 

People pick things, and will pick them, untill they destory everything 

..and that, is just so very sad.


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Also by .L.m.P.:

Help | Painful Poison | Best friend | The Cycle |

Look at me

You look at me and what do you see

You look at me all the time

With that supercilious grin

Scanning me from head to foot

You pass no comment

And yet you say it all with your eyes


They say that every picture tells a tale

But you never draw, paint or photograph

What you see

You never describe or make a photo fit

Instead you just stop, blink and stare

You looking...

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Also by Martin Elder:

memory | Somebodys son |

Sincerely Molly

entry picture

Please don't go, leaving me up here all alone in the cold
Please don't go, no blanket, no hugs because your too "old"
Please don't go, too busy, too good, not childish enough for me to hold
Please don't go, I need you, my mommy, my sunshine my gold
Please don't go, I'm lost now, without you alone and covered in mold

You loved me, you held me until college came
Your boyfriend, your lipstick, you just wer...

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No More Page 3

Sunny mornings spent alone,

Calls for news named as such,

Yet scrawled careless between
pages isn’t news so much - 
‘Britney’s back with a hit!’
‘She’s 19 and she’s got tits!’
‘Chris and Gywneth finally split!’
I scrabble hungry for underestimated wit,
Yet,  between licking and flicking I find this is it-
An incredulous, shameful, ...

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Also by Charlotte:

(untitled) | Reluctant Return. | Thirty. | Cats |

The world`s most beautiful city
























letting in













are thrown










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Also by Neil Francis Brooks:

Paws | Drift | Dream Dogs |

The Crooked Beast At The End Of A Crooked Path

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The Crooked Beast At The End Of A Crooked Path

I saw him rise like a dark spectre
in the clouds
at the end of a crooked path
his horned head cocked
spreading his cloven claws
astride the graves that nestled
safe beneath the trees
his wings unfurling
across the sky
and gathering in
the long dead souls
beneath the ground
and I thought
I heard the demon say
“I told you I would not fo...

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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Armistice (Gods Of War) | Death Of A Poet (Anthem For Doomed Youth) MUSIC VERSION | Death Of A Poet / Anthem For Doomed Youth | Dead Men's Boots |

crooked pathdevilgraveyardlost soulsprayerrichpixthe beast

Do All Dogs go to Heaven?

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Do all Dogs

go to Heaven?

I sure hope

It's true.

Cause when I

get to Heaven

I want to be

there with you.


You are gone

now but

for a

short while.

When I see

you again

I'll have a

big smile.


I'll sit upon

the ground

while you run

that crazy little circle.



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Also by Shirley Smothers:

Our Peanut Puppy | A Slightly Dirty Limerick |


illusional babe

Certain piece

of beautiful dreamy music

transmutes into visions.


Bringing you before me.

Puts a crown of flowers

around your head.

Gently breezes

the ebony flow of your hair.

Closes your eyes.

Makes you ever so slowly circle your waist.

Outstretches your clasped hands

above your head.

Dresses you in nothing

but a whisper of a silky veiled gown.


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Pleasure Center

One in ten have the gene, ONE in ten, how could that be me?

A gene for alcoholism is a gene that I have, bearly hitting seventeen when I realised that.

Drinking on the weekends turned into every morning of everyday.

With my hands melted around a bottle, forever there to stay.

My bottle was my friend, the friend of a friend in need,

Helping me "solve" my problems, yet creating more i...

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alcohol abuse

Life is boobytrapped

You brush past a bush, 
it ambushes, scratches you, you
hardly notice it, it
gets septic,
death follows.
The sniper picks out you, you
are the unlucky one, one
of the others could easily have been, been
shot, shot dead, but no,
death follows.
Life is boobytrapped. 
It's a minefield, any minute, minute
germs, viruses, bacteria can invade, invade
through the tiniest crack, crack

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It's Happening

It's happening.


I didn't think it would

To me, I

Blinkered myself

From harsh realities

I didn't want to see -


Plunged myself

Head long in sands

As, unbeknownst to me,

Those particles beneath my feet

Were leaking out into

Some secret



When I was young

I had a naive notion that

All parts were mechanised,

Like robot cogs


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'Cause I can wait no more

entry picture

Come take me now
'Cause I can wait
no more
Come tell me now
How much you adore

Come take me now
In your arms
Come tell me how
You feel the warmth

Hold me tight
like a baby
Spread your wings 
and make me cozy

Let me hide 
And sink within you
Let me say
How much I missed you
Let me cry 
Let me roar
Like desert rain on you 
let me pour

Come hold me now 

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As yet untitled


Sometimes we’re only supposed to look and not see

But each of us is, as we are supposed to be


If it wasn’t for you

And if it wasn’t for me


Then our meeting would never have come to pass

You are loved for being you, no buts nor alas


So little do you know that so much of me has changed

You saw through my defences, over years they had aged


So grateful ...

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chance encounterfleeting moments


A voice is still unheard and a face still is unseen,

there's a heart beating in the crowd of mean,

its innocence has been pushed down beneath,

it does not trust the world whether it will let keep it clean.


It has been hurt and ditched before,

and now its afraid to come forth,

it was torned down, broken and burned into ashes,

and it took long enough to join the pieces.


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A Woman's Charm

The scent of her skin

In pleasurable tones

Leaves him wanting more


The promise in her touch

With lingering strokes

Raises firmness to his core


The light in her eyes

Contradicts their darkness

Adds a flicker to his flame


The curve of her breast

In all it's subtlety

Brings fragility to his frame


The softness of her lips

In all their fullness


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entry picture

I saw you in my dream again

last night.

You looked at me accusingly


angry, disappointed


I ran after you

calling, begging you to


You turned around and 


mingling with the crowd.

I sat down on the dusty road

as I've done before 

countless times


wondering why you never talk.

Why you never tell me why.


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~~Life down here seems like in an alien land!
And though it’s a handiwork of Your precious hand!!
I am not comfortable in this alien band,
I wish I was placed on a safer sand.

“Let the dusk soon perish,
And dawn appear that I might cherish,
Let me soon cross this tedious mountain,
That I might be quenched by thy freshening fountain,
Let me soon recognize that is alien land,
Is your pr...

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August Collage Poem: First Jobs

entry picture


Strangled thoughts inside and out,

Lost chances rust in lonely sidings.


Tailor driven across hope

buried deep under steelworks

strangled in lies


hope made of granite

and reinforced steel.


The tosser on the dance floor

Throw him into an IT grave.

Once you get used to something, your

imagination loses its mind, use your

imagination and look at som...

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Also by Stockport WoL:

Alan Seeger |

collage poemPurple pooStockport WOL


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St Blaise is the patron saint

His image adorns the walls

Defender of Dubrovnik

Also patron of the throat

Once a year as a young boy

Two candles beneath my chin

Held tightly to form a cross

To celebrate the feast day

And to keep my voice from harm

The priest mumbling his blessing


We sail out of the harbour

Anchor a little way off


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CroatiaDubrovnikLiverpool PoetsSUBACCHIWelsh Poets

Latest blog entry


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Also by Paul Pyke:

Check out my new blog |

Paul Pyke Poetry Blog

When All The Laughter Stops

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When all the laughter stops, when it abides,
And all the tears of joy begin to dry,
When all the world looks up from aching sides,
And all the breathlessness allows a sigh.

A light, so brightly shining starts to wane,
But hidden out of sight, battles in vain.

When all the smiles are full, when they recede,
And straighten out into a furrowed frown,
When all the life in vibrancy concedes,
And from th...

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CelebritydeathDepressionLossPoemPoetryRobin WilliamsSuicideTragedy

The Knock

Lo and behold that feeling

once more has returned


To tease test and torment

dead past willfully spurned


From window shut forever

heard unmistakable creak


A portent of ensuing havoc

and destruction it’ll wreak


Dilemmas deemed sorted

in archives since then lost


Will augment latent agony

with much heftier paid cost


An arduous uphill dr...

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Evolution of a Domestic Argument (From the Male Perspective)

Nope. Not. No, I won't!
I dare not. Do not. I don't!
Shall? Shan't! Shall I, not!
Can? Can't! Can it sot!
Never. Never. Never again!
 Okay, sorry. I give, you win.

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Also by James Roper:

None |



I would once again like to awaken with you be my side;

to have the pleasure of gazing into the beauty of your unfathomable soul through your deep dark eyes.

Through every step of it I could sense your warm presence hovering beside me;

smiling at me;

filling my being with everything that you had.

The yearning to be with you was all I could think of.

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Love lost


It's a strange and dark night,

The rain is gushing against the windowpane,
Then in the still cats fight,
Foxes wail, wind howls - I am pale with worry about you.

The sounds, the blackness and stubborn miles between us
My mind's delicate fingertips try to find you,
feeling around in that house where you might be sleeping or your thoughts still reeling with the madness of frustration.


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Also by Cecilia Kovacs:

Dreamchasers | To a Milestone | Crap Without Wrap (Rap) | Lovemaking | Perceptions (aka bored at a Health and Safety training) |

The six blind elephants and the man

(After John Godfrey Saxe.)

It was six jolly ELEPHANTS
(And all of them were blind),
That all agreed to search the town
To study humankind,
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The first one felt the human's head;
In puzzled tones he spake:
"This wonder of a Human Man
Is flat as griddle-cake!"
The others solemnly agreed,
"'Tis true, and no mistake."

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Joseph Robert's poem in Leaves of Ink

My poet hubby, Joseph Robert, is published this month in Leaves of Ink. More info here: http://leilaniestewart.wordpress.com/2014/08/08/joseph-roberts-poem-in-leaves-of-ink/


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Also by Leilanie Stewart:

My poems in Black Mirror Magazine | Poetry Video for August - Belemnite Soup |

Earl Wynn editorJoseph Robert poetLeaves of Ink magazine

His Beauty In Her

Beauty is not defined in terms of appearance to him, it is just a bonus. 
Beauty in her, is the shining light that brightens the room whenever she smiles. 
That she can make him laugh in any situation, pick him up when he is down and can always count on her to be there. 
Her beauty is within, that is like strokes from a paint brush every time she laughs. 
He is blown away by her intelligence, her hung...

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Also by Heather Lavin:

Movement of the World | Humanity in Galaxies |

The Silent Steps.

On the horizon and blurred in passing smoke
figures move into the distant fields,
and closer the dead battleground
springs red grass blades.

Here the poet silently tiptoes, grieving,
another tear-stained handkerchief,
counting dying gasps and stealing
last words meant for a mother.

And count the words,
Place them side by side
Dead grass
Here I died
Scorched mud
Missing hand

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Also by Mick Waring:

On the news of a death. |

world war one

There are no dead.

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There are no dead like your dead.
Relentlessly impaled on your memory,
her tiny hand, his frozen bicycle,
his uniform in the doorway, halo’d in
morning light saying “I’ll be alright”,
her scarf thrown aside in the sunshine.
There are no dead.

There are no wounds like your wounds.
Bathed as a child in crimson shadows
his unseeing eyes plead for life,
her skirt in the glade, not run...

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Unnatural Things

The most unnatural thing in this world
Is a parent
Burying their child
Having to send their little angel back home to God
Losing a piece of their soul no amount of time will ever return

Seeing the ghost of that lost child age alongside their other children
Car seat empty in the back of truck
Birthdays pass with no growth to show for
No graduations to celebrate
One less daughter to walk ...

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Turning Over Stones

My daughter  collects stones,

tears them out from sodden soily beds,

or picks them from the pile,

stashes them in pockets

till linings tear

and washing machine clatters

to the awkward beat

of a battered drum.


And though I chide her for the damage,

I know she can't resist

the clasp, the cut,

the spit, the rub

the nub and polish of them,

each stone its own...

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Nero to Zero


I’m sat in Nero
My mac is absent
But I have tortoise shell specs 
Coffee cups
A pen and pad
Filled with nothing but endless to do lists
Productivity promises
And I’ve just finished a tub of hummus
I think I qualify right?

A wispy voiced limp haired Lolita soundtracks this cliche 
As overpriced
Over spiced
Panini, chai’s and muffin tops
Plonk and plop
On marble topped tables 


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All too late

Two lovers with different dreams collide. Smashing both dreams into thousands of little pieces.

The two lovers grow distant as they scrabble around trying to piece their dreams back together.

In time they resent each other for the destruction, not realising that they could create new dreams together. 

By which time it was all too late.

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The Inadequacy Of Education and The Threat Of Mental Health

Deranged over the hills and far far away

ashaimed of myself , on stage , getting in a state

using certain words for unknown reasons,

on a mission ,

fuck admiring mansions i show love to the flowers more ,

listening is totally up to you yeah , give a shit really

message received loud and clear just how i like it ,

NOT silent and secretive

in the meantime

i am feeling so v...

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How to leave Soho

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How to leave Soho

Un-tongue the archaic idioms of Wardour Street prose,

those acronyms and codes. Sign out for the last time.

Delete all opinionated indiscretions.


Surrender your keys and password.

Purge details of pharmacists from your phone

as if they were the names of dealers.


Time will end at six as the Swiss clock chimes;

cow chases maiden chases wa...

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Better Days

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The Voyeuristic Toaster


I d like to be a toaster

So I could toast you.... a tasty snack

Then watch you from the work top

Take crumpets from the rack


As you feast the buttered crumpets

I will covet in delight

When you apply buttered lipstick with every sexy bite


Jonathan Barnes


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