Poetry Blogs (Sep 2014)

Popular last 30 days

My Back

My back is sending me a message

it says I'm getting old

That's why I don’t like the winter

My back doesn’t like the cold.


It’s not as if I’m in agony

And the pain is under control.

But my back could do with a massage;

Not reminders that I’m getting old.


I need to send back a message

I need to be rather bold

There’s no bloody need to remind me

-I know I’m ...

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ageold agePain

wake up! BALL!

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Time maker

before Time taker

closes the plot

loan me the keys

to free important needs

we have not

allow my unlocking

Templed treasures

of all inner selves

Aladdinesque vaults

where precious truths

too long have lingered

on  dust coated shelves.

Books of loves purities.

The needs of hearts freedom flights

to where they need to be

where dark has no r...

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Empty Space

Give me your space

Your empty space

The one you have discarded

Abandoned and abused

Wrung out, painted black

Locked, drapes shut.

The space you once filled with me

My name, my voice, my song

Our promises, hopes, plans.

As you retrace your steps

Turning back, turning your back

On me, forgetting that

We were once we


I need that space

I need to fill th...

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Also by Pete Slater:


The Lines

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I stand and admire the lines,

not always so straight.

The concrete veins through the places of old

we once walked,

through to the quagmire paths

where you first found my arm after stumbling.

The burrows, dark and secret, where lips pressed

against the soft feel of ripe naked fruit.

Canals, rivers, brooks, streams we have strolled along,

flowing the only way the valleys a...

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Self Control

Self Control
i keep thinking about us and how things went unnoticed, like when i gave you my heart and how you would never hold it, shit i thought it was my fault we never were the closest, i just figured time would heal everything you weren’t showing like picturing me cheating on you reliving that moment. if i can go back to that day i would have been less faded off the weed off the drink...

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Let Not The Ink Run Dry

Let Not The Ink Run Dry



     I share because I care

And dare to say words

That some find ill at ease,

     But one thing

I’ve found within

The realms of poetry,

We’re all as daring as each,

We all open our minds our

Hearts our soul and speak,

     And yes,

I see we’re all hankering

For change,

     I see many

Who care just as much

As me, and i...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Duty | Pissing Against The Wind | Hurt Beyond the Medicine | On Drink |

Don't Give UpPoetsWarWriting


The leaves fall

Tumbling to the ground

Each branch of the tree

Getting bare and brittle

Some leaves fall straight down

Some leaves get carried by the wind

I sit and watch

Each leaf on an adventure

Some broken

Some cracked

Some gone from view

Each one leaving a memory

On the big tree

That is now nude

And pure

My heart was once pure

And covered in a ge...

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Also by Kassandra Morris:

Mirror | Self-Destruction | If The World Was Going To End | Isolated | Forsaken Love | Eternity | Cold Nights | Silence | Flame |


If you dance to the music, you’ll find yourself…

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Had a prompt from our writing group last time of "

If you dance to the music, you’ll find yourself…" so I thought I'd give it a go, although I've not mentioned the prompt anywhere in the piece!


If you dance to the music, you’ll find yourself…


I can’t dance.

Anyone that takes a glance

Will see me prance and realise

That I can’t dance.


My Macarena is more macaroni


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Also by Pauliegreg:

Early Morning | The Sea (Part two) | The Sea (part One) | Stronger | Is it safe? | Loving Heart | I am here |

beardancedancingfunny poem


We sailed our ships across the sea,

looking for a new place to be.

We were not satisfied with what we had,

We knew there was more in the world.

The seas were mighty, with waves as tall as the sky,

men fell over board and drowned,

I felt as if Thor was mad at us.

Still, we fought through the waves,

To a new land we called Vinland.

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Also by Rollo:

Med Odens kärlek är allt möjligt | Odin vækker mig |

norse Viking

Waiting for Nancy (III)

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Waiting for the third time
Hints at problems getting
Out of work
Or a flat tyre
On your bike
Which banged like a bullet
Down Oxford Road
And got oil
Up and down you
Almost changing the
Colour of the your pants.
A half hour asleep doze
After a early finish
Which turned into two hours
Your neighbours cat
You are looking after
That decided it wanted
Feeding you l...

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Also by Gray Nicholls:

Waiting for Nancy (II) | Waiting for Nancy (I) |


I don't need a title I don't need some papers to show my skills or proof of purpose I know they now require this but I'm a women of truth and bliss I don't need to shout I don't want to be seen I just want to help those who have lost everything I'll show them how to regain strength and teach them what's good for others is a priceless test and giving to the helpless and lost souls to guide the ...

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#need #want #truth


And the joke


Is on us
With our tin hats
In the rain 
We all like
The poison 
Too much 
You see
We all like
The damage
And it fascinates us
An impossible knot
And the more
We pull at it
The tighter 
It gets
Yet what we don't see
Is that we strangle
Admiring the tiger
Fearing the stripes
And the...

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Also by Twilbury Wist:

Wonderland | (untitled) | Telling | Tightrope | Wake up and smell 'em | Gesundheit | Time Bomb | Fancy Dress | From whence they came | The factory | The mechanics | Naturally simple | The Shadows of Clouds | Space Ape | The Poetry of People | The Circus of people | Bobbing for Apples | The Seamstress | The Burden |

welcome majesty



(The poem no one is going to ask me to write

celebrating the next royal visit of her majesty

to my home city of Liverpool).



We`re citizens, Ma`am, of our particular city,

Our own beloved mass of masonry,

And though the stranger may not think it pretty,

We are glad to be


We live up here beside our windy river

(The sea drives in and scours us twice a ...

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Also by Harry O`N eill:

Who let this happen? | THE SMILE | ROSE (dancing the Rhumba) |


-the ramblings of another young girl-

written: 9/27/14

 I watched as you curled up into your own little cocoon.

I watched as you emerged with new colors and two beautiful wings..

  that carried you away from me.

and I am stuck here, 

forced to stay put on this lonesome ground

as I watch you, and your brilliant colors,

fly high into the sky..

  and away from the memory of...

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Also by .L.m.P.:

Will I ever.. | Baby, I think I might be falling..catch me? |


When tyrants and their bile emerge

The rest of us must face the scourge

And neutralise the bitter gall

That threatens to engulf us all

When a body is ill-treated

Prompt action sees disease defeated

We have to help ourselves at times

To confront Mother Nature's crimes

The same with tyrants' base infections:

Attack them hard from all directions

Until disease departs fro...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:

YOU SMILED - a song of renewed love | SCOTTISH INDEPENDENCE - an English perspective | BLESS! | SERVES ME RIGHT - country lament | THE SNP | LONELINESS |

A poetic object - Starry Clock by Jesse Glass

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My latest poetry review is published: http://leilaniestewart.wordpress.com/2014/09/27/a-short-play-starry-clock-by-jesse-glass-2/

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Also by Leilanie Stewart:

Free writing competitions for teenagers - September to December 2014 | Free verse: The Poetry Book Fair 2014 |

Jesse Glass poetpoemspoetrypoetry objectspoetry reviewszimZalla publishing

Greedy Ink

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Also by vincent berquez:

Drawing |


You’re a literary lion!
Yet you’re invariably sighing
as you prowl round the page
lines escape from the cage
and the herd run off trumpeting.

Or was that I heard a siren?
You’ve been out clubbing with Lord Byron,
I’m digging your deeds done abroad
with a pen and a sword,
at least that’s what I thought –
now I’m strangely discomfited.

There’s been a local revolution:

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Also by Ray Miller:

Eastnor Castle Easter Monday |

In The Time It Takes

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In the time it takes to turn a corner
In the going of that moment
The rain
In the time it takes to close your eyes
In the waking dread of darkness
Spiral deepest down and down
Wherein long cold fingers claw
Wherein the night grows ever darker
In the time it takes to turn a corner
In the going of that moment
The rain
In the time it takes to root and tangle
Blood red fruits await the win...

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Hi everyone!
LOADS of gigs coming up including a tour all over England and Germany with my band Barnstormer celebrating our 20th anniversary...
Hope to see you somewhere :)
Cheers Attila

 26 BRADFORD 1 in 12 Protag Fest - at a celebration of the life of my old mate http://www.1in12.com/
27  LEEDS  Seacroft Village Hall for proper socialist Labour PPC Richard Burgon http://www.ev...

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Also by Attila the Stockbroker:

Lost in the Supermarket |

A diffrent View

A scratch on the back that send chills down your back

A smile that lit the darkside of the moon

No cares in the world

She whirled, twirled her hands till noon

   Falling into the sand

    Keeping the angel



BAck now aches with pain and regret

Moon is shaded with darkness and now seeking vengeance

More worried filled the world 

Now standing still


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Poem: Draw Closer to God

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Draw closer to God
and He will draw nigh unto thee,
provided you’re willing to…
demonstrate actual honesty.

For He can always see
intentions written upon one’s heart.
Stop playing games and come clean;
otherwise, His Spirit may soon depart.

Jehovah transcends the boundaries of time;
So to Him, there is nothing new under the sun.
Start by freely accepting Salvation’s gift,
which was ...

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Also by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd:

Poem: Green Card | Poem: Release the Songbird in Me | Poem: The Dark Heretic | When Will You Come? |

breunigchristian poetryDraw Closer to Godfaithpoetry

Train window

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I thought I knew someone

standing accross the road,

she was waiting for a gap in traffic...

Then, there was another time,

alighting from a cab

and carrying fancy bags...

There she was again

-I think-

seated opposite me

on that train from Liverpool,

but that was just a reflection...

There was one time at a party 

when she smiled

my way, I thought, but it was


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Also by Tommy Carroll:

I never sleep | This is how I nearly died | The Cerebral Anjiogram | Scots wha hae! | A meeting in Algiers |


Here awhile

in a dark

mirror-less room

not wanting light

to remind me

of something

I'd rather not

too often see

my reflection's inability

to defer my eyes

from finding

that time

has'nt been kindly



©  Patricia Wilde 2014

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In Père Lachaise Cemetery

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It takes time and focus to make your way

around this star-studded necropolis.

Without a convenient plan or a guide

– pedantic, wry, and always affable –

you'll wander in vain its endless pathways.

Unable to spot the names you’ve heard of,

you will feel deceived and none the wiser.


Lured by bones, or the dubious remains

of two mythic lovers, what do we seek

before a ...

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Also by David Cooke:

Biscuits | Nothing | Lines for a Fighter |

It's raining

It was pissing down when I left home today

Clouds the darkest shade of grey

The blackest of the black

The rain at full force of attack

None of the comforting

Soft pitter pat

But a diving crescendo

Bursting on the earth

Bouncing off brollies

Bouncing off cars

Wiper blades moving quickly

Swishing back and forth


Arriving at my place of work

The day has been...

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Also by Martin Elder:

Tall tales |


Other people’s borrowed books
are lodgers on my crowded shelves.
Their broken spines, when spotted, speak
of characters beyond themselves;
of people I no longer see.

Time and distance intervene
but each is proof of some intent
to render joy or furnish truth.
I think about the books I’ve lent
and wonder what they say of me.

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My Whole Heart

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You have my whole heart
Will till the day that I die
And forever more

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Also by Shirley Smothers:

I Think About You | My Dad |


The Auld Drunk

'Git tae fuck!"

The auld drunk said

As he swigged back the Tennent's


So I went

Back on my way

As the sun began to set


Now I think

Of the auld drunk

From time to time in passing


I care not if I grow old

Still less to be a drunkard

But to be too bitter

Or too afraid

Should I have one

To tell my tale

To the bent and weary faces

Of those w...

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The dirty dark blue overcoat

Had long since seen a better day

A hard life, over sixty years

Has him set in his own way

Guardian of suburban parkland

Where all the Children play


The eyesight of a shithouse rat

From the days when he wore khaki

Remembers Dunkirk and it’s beach

Queuing up still makes him narky

The Kids know not to mess with him

Because He’s the Lo...

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Also by Daniel Dwyran:


childhoodold soldierparksworking class men

Nine Diamonds

Nine Diamonds

We are the keepers of the green
The blue, the gold, the sienna blood
We are the makers of royal love
Upon crystal clouds of daydreams

We seek the handicapped in humanity
To shift, to ally, to share the weight
We strip the pretense, no time for that
For the humanity is our handicap

We are equals, right down the line
In our interest we choose no hate
We find meaning ...

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Also by Jake Vincent Belmont:

May An Ornament Hold Us Tight | Love is a bullet. | SNE | Cali Trip |

Walls Within the Madhouse

Only the walls know

What the goings on are,

Inside this glorious madhouse.

They see, and remember,

Remember by holding in the evidence,

In their structure, in their bones, in the paint smeared upon them.

They can recall the way your tears were like pearls.

And the dark that bloomed on your pale neck

Where I kissed and you moaned.

They know the shy way your tentative fing...

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Passing of the past.

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Stood tall and strong and proud they had

been with him though each year

become akin to family,

through plough and drill and shear

sheltered and protected him

held off weather's assails

comforted him at times of rest

guided his hard travails

As friends, they kept their counsel closed

whilst provoking contemplation

they stripped him as they too laid bare

exposing all...

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The long cold walk from the car to the stone, the grass soaking wet because the sun hasn’t shown. 

The flowers have all died because we’ve been forgotten, this once cold flesh has decayed and is rotten.

I’m surrounded by ones who are all the same, but they have countless stories, countless reasons, countless names. 

Some like to disguise the pain with celebration, hiding behind a mask or ...

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I told you


I told you
In 1982
Deacdes ago now 
But you'd have none of it
When I said I knew what Eartha meant
When she growled
"I Love men
I love men
I love men"

Didn't you think it was strange
That I enthused so much over Dynasty?
And Joan Collins
In all her finery
Strutting around like the cat 
Who'd clearly got the cream
Stiletto heels leaving a bloody trail
Of the r...

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Also by Jon Darby:

(untitled) |


Born in black
I squeezed for the white milk
From an unknown Breast
On the streets
I was a month old as a feast (0-1)
I balanced my feat
Raised my hands for a treat
But nobody was there
To give me a warm great
She left me alone
With my future on the streets
But three year old that was least (1-3)
Streets ...

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In my own community, the very streets run hot with envy

They look at me, peers and enemies alike

Looking like they always want to fight, out of spite

I sometimes wonder what they see when they look at me with envy

Is it my sexiness that offends, does my Blackness cause you dismay?

Are you mad because I choose to smile anyway

Does my skin tone upset you?

Because it high...

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Also by Aisha Heath:

The Mirror of Me |

Things Can Only Get Bitter

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You’ve had your vote

You’ve had your say

You spoke up for

The Forth and Tay


Would you reject

The status quo?


But you said “No”


I’m sad to say

For our UK

The whole debate

Won’t go away


The nationalists

Will just want more

We’ve opened up

A running sore


Things can only get bitter

Can only bitter

From now on


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Also by John Coopey:

School Record |

Daphnis and Chloé

Daphnis and Chloé

at dawn
broke the glass case
and went to bleed
on the sheepskin

turned over
his wife's photograph
drank his coffee hot
looked nervously
at the reel of seconds

the day was young
light creeping
between thin letters
buds burst open
at the crossing
the traffic jammed
honked like mad
with the twisting of bodies
and the virgin c...

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Lillie's Coffee Bar

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It's a place that illuminates the freest forms of me

A few pumps on my pedals, turns of my handles, and I'm already there

Tall palms twirled in lights line the way to my imagination

Tiny bells ding against the glass door as I glide inside

Freshly roasted beans percolate through anticipation to perfection

Burlap coffee sacks hang as window shades

Handiwork of local artists accents the walls

Sandy scenes o...

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Also by Candice Reineke:

Swallow Silence | Crime of Comfort |



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rusty bones
supporting hide
of rotting wood
the pungent smell
of seaweed

long dead things
its aged frame
crawls ashore
clicking like
fighting crabs

sand sloughing
from its skin

grey skies
clinging mist
clothing it
in gloom

a thousand
scrabbling legs
gripping claws
taking root
heaving carcass
to the shore


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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Snipers |

krakenpierrichpixseasea monstersexual awakening

Anthology on Addiction

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The Whole Desolate Day, an anthology on addiction, is currently seeking submissions.

Send one to five poems/prose on addiction Deadline January 15, 2015 Reading fee:  $3 Publisher:  Little Lark Press

Please find full guidelines at:  http://littlelarkpress.wordpress.com/about/


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addictionanthologycall for submissionspoetrysubmissions

I Am An Ocean

I am an ocean - swilling calmly; wrecking ships and shore.

I am a hurricane - outer parts and eye and more.

I am an avalanche - speak softly to me I'll be still;

But bellow loudly, stomp about on me I'll spill.


I am the weather - sunny, clear but fit to burst

When a thousand droplets are absorbed in thirst;

I filter out all dross downland, upland and over hills

This brood...

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To a Dying Star

When the day comes,

full of red nimbus skies

and black pronounced

against the bodies of - they will say it was

not outside of any plan.


Like, too, my foolish way

of thinking it is here, holding hands;

some real and loving thing,

they will say that everything

united is - universe after universe.


I could have most if it:

the blue and white eye delights,


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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Print |

Significance of the Nineteenth Autumn

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As the nineteenth autumn has come upon me,
It’s a whole new world I see.
Treacherous creatures, so often, hush and hide,
And it seemeth to me, a change in tide.

The poetry of soothing sensation has gone,
The glimmering golden glow of the sun is now none.
Some say,’ The Head is battling with the Heart’.
Well ! All Logic has been torn apart.

As I gaze into the vast emptiness
The dawning...

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Also by Ad Astra:

Stillness | Nature reclaimed | Eternal Moment |



Kept convincing myself

 end would turn out fine


Fazed but withstanding

implore for a visible sign


Trudge turned Incessant

with reserves at very last


Stretched to the optimum

leaving me plainly aghast


Events turned divergent

 expectations got belied


Means while just perfect

 but to end never applied


Resolve nearly exhausted

on p...

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Also by Sunny Chopra:

The Resolve | Disenchantment | The Cortege |


Don't Write Hungry

A really good sandwich,

Has two pieces of bread,

(we all know the club is compensating)

Is void of mayonnaise,

But has in its stead,

(Mayonnaise is for the self-deprecating)

A nice bit of mustard,

And a sharp slice of Ched…dar.

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Also by James Roper:

Ever-was | Have you ever heard an angel laugh? | For a Stranger | No Reason |


Drunken fool

Chasing bottles of Gin

Instead of You

You Think of you 

So thinking of Gin


Blind drunk

Only with Gin

Maybe the wine started it

But finished by Gin

Agreeing with the senseless

Being defenceless

Maybe the wine started it

But ended

with the Gin

Solve the world in a rant

barely sufficient...scant

The wine started this

now need a ppp... wee


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Also by Quiet Comet:

Enveloped and doped | A million little pieces | Our home, our castle |

Status Update

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There are those who check the obituary

In the local paper, be it the Hull Daily Mail

Or the Huddersfield Daily Examiner

Before they decide to get up on a morning

(In T S Eliot’s day, it was the Boston Evening Transcript.)


These winter mornings, I know how they feel

Waking cold, to a grey dawn smeared across my window

But I have a technological solution:

I check my Face...

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I Never Made Promises Lightly | Sentry Duty |

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