Donations are essential to keep Write Out Loud going    

Popular last 30 days

love depression life addiction nonet poem loss sad death girl

Popular last 12 months

love poetry Life poem nature death hope War loss poet

richpix (Remove filter)

Recent Comments




I am the scythe that cuts through old and young

In cornfields where the idle crows watch on

As scarecrows flap their arms in summer sun

And wonder where the greedy birds have gone

The weeds grow now where once the sharp blade fell

Stealing from us all that we once held dear

There are no devils in this weeping hell

Only children transformed through pain and fear


Read and leave comments (2)

covid 19futilityhuman touchrichpixshakespearean Sonnetunnecessary deathvirus

Bag Of Bones

Bag Of Bones


Please let me introduce myself -

my name is Billy Jones.

You might know me better

as that useless bag of bones

that gets under your feet

when you’re staring at your phones,

planning all your creature comforts

on extortionate pay day loans.

Well I was once like you my friend,

I haven’t always been alone

huddled up in corners

where the autumn lea...

Read and leave comments (2)

despairhomelessnessrichpixwe shall overcome

Rich Pictures

Rich Pictures


catching wasps in cobwebs

brutal lines and angles

graffiti strewn puddles

homeless persons

hopeless gaze


shimmer on a wheelchair

in an old abandoned hospital

where cries ring out at night

In the empty cells


demons in the trees

caught in click

spiral monsters

under piers

foaming lap

of northern tides


fractured bulbs


Read and leave comments (2)


We Are The Dead

We Are The Dead


we are the dead

the unrequited love

the words we never said

the dreams we never realised

we are the dead


we are the dead

sat in front of the TV

spending too long in bed

wasting our lives away

we are the dead


we are the dead

arguing among ourselves

never leading being led

to places we don’t want to go

we are the dead



Read and leave comments (2)

livemaking the most of lifeproctastinationrichpix

Wide Is The Gate And Broad Is The Road

Wide Is The Gate And Broad Is The Road

A sky bleached like old bones
dug from damp earth on an autumn morning.

The pale sun spits on car roofs in a Northern town
where colours hide behind a sheen of grey.

Tram tracks, like silver trails of slugs,
pacing the slowly walking midnight man.

Something ancient and horrid has left a double-mustard
trail of crumbs for him to follow, but nev...

Read and leave comments (3)

dystopiafactoryrichpixthe norththe road to hellunrhymed coupletsworkers

Dexteram Patris

Dexteram Patris

seeing him that way,
and she,
ever supportive,
gently touching
his arm
for reassurance

but there is a failing,
something not the same,
although in looks
we are so similar.

The Prodigal returns
and sees his father,
straight of back
and stern of countenance,
falling to pieces.

The once proud frame -

and she,
as beautiful as always,

Read and leave comments (7)

prodigal sondeclining healthdementiafatherfavourite chairrichpixright hand of the father



All seeing eyes
Guardian of the gate,
Sat atop
the stairway of skins.
Sewn together
with satyr hair.
Counting the days,
ticking them off
in a parchment book
with a pen on a string
twined with spider thread.

Sits in the sunlight
and watches the workers
to-ing and fro-ing
like ants on a hill
with their own little tasks,
while he has no legs,
just sits in a chair

Read and leave comments (0)

gatekeeperkeeper of soulsmythologyrichpixtower of babelfreemasonsbanking scandal

Snapshot Narrative


The remains of a day                                                              

lie extinguished, discarded,

disregarded by the passers-by.


Silver-tipped echo of a mouth

unremarked upon

and common

in its everyday normality.


Evocatively comforting

in stained familiarity;

an endless capability

for rainbow possibilities

of shining eyes and laughter l...

Read and leave comments (5)




They were young
and cowering in an alley,
fearful for the future,
as sirens screeched
around them.

The sky a molten white
of churning clouds.

Everyone running,
colliding, jostling,
trying to be anywhere
but here.

She turned to him
with moist eyes
and lips the colour
of arterial blood.

When he tilted
her chin upwards
her gaze never left
the yellowing smoke

Read and leave comments (1)

end of daysevictionkisslove storymankindnuclear blastrichpixsci-fi



The rain has fallen down for twenty hours
from a dead sky of slate and granite hews,
dampening the walls of urban towers.

Cobbled streets the colour of an old bruise,
tyres rattle over pothole dark drains,
counterpoint to some distant splashing shoes.

The day cast in monochromatic stains
as water forms itself into a lake
that eddies into inner city lanes.

A passing car cre...

Read and leave comments (3)

homelessnessrainfallrichpixstreetsTerza Rima formurban livingwet



Tin to mouth

Tin to feet

One jig to reel

enough to eat


Is he broken, broke, breaking

on the pavement by the station?

Is he played, paid, playing

to his own tune or to yours?


Tin to mouth

Tin to feet

Two jigs to reel

enough to eat


Do you jingle jangle shillings

in your pocket as you’re walking

past the tinsmith making

all the magi...

Read and leave comments (6)


A Tree In The Elephant's Graveyard

A Tree In The Elephant’s Graveyard

It began with a pen
and paper,
beneath a tree.
Carried here
upon a rat
to rest awhile.

The paper was white
and stared at me
The pen hovered,
dripping ink
like tears.

A serpent
coiled itself
around My neck.
I thought of stars
and dreamt
of gouache landscapes.

Still the paper
would not
fuck the pen.
My thoughts
were clear,

Read and leave comments (3)

richpixelephantParvatishindu culturemuseGaneshatreedeathmythwriters block



stealing pieces of experience

to place them just outside of your own









         y     our


semiotic symptom

of a need to reproduce;

connote two-tone heartbreak

tragedy ripped

from a 2D playground


second-hand realities

suck on r...

Read and leave comments (6)


Afraid Of The Dark

Afraid Of The Dark

what you can’t see
cannot hurt you
ghouls and ghosts
things of the dark
things you don’t understand.
close your eyes go to sleep
think of happy things and places
let your mind move on
be at peace child

the thing that scratches at the window
you know it’s just a branch
the creak of a floorboard
late at night
a cold chill that drifts
through a warm house
the un...

Read and leave comments (6)

afraiddarknessfairy taleshalloweenillnesswhite liesrichpix

Weird Sisters

Weird Sisters

when did we four last meet
with doctor martins on our feet
hubble, bubble trick or treat
kiss and tell arms to greet
looks that kill in a heartbeat
concrete steps as a seat
stir the cauldron feel the heat
cool as fuck neat neat neat
no surrender no retreat
angel faces so petite
whiplash smiles sugar sweet
weird sisters of the street


Inspired By: photograph by Ri...

Read and leave comments (1)

enjoying lifefriendshappyrichpixweird sistersteenagersgirlsyouthstreet

funeral days

funeral days

funeral days
should always be like this

early mourning dew
in the eyes of those gathered
under a slate grey sky
(not blasphemous blue)
whose heavy tears
will splash
the golden Judas kiss
of leaves crackling
beneath disrobed trees
betraying the sadness
with their joyful colour

the heavy damp sods of earth
clinging close to the coffin
like the grief
that surrounds...

Read and leave comments (1)


The Lines

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...

Read and leave comments (2)




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


Read and leave comments (2)

krakensea monsterpiersexual awakeningrichpixsea

Corridor of Song


In this corridor of song,

invocations colour space

now devoid of human voice,

as spirits whisper here

of hysterical imprisonment;

of torture painted pink and blue

and baa baa black sheep have you any


                                                              Hail Mary full of grace


Supplications resonate

in hidden mouths

as mournings cry to sing of l...

Read and leave comments (8)




was it out there
that I became a ghost?

I may be an unreliable witness
the constant stress does that to you
the days spent outside, unprotected
with a local population
that won’t look you in the eye
or when they do
they have the look of hate
that you are even there at all

if only the locals were less hostile
to my cause
if only I could count on my military team
to back ...

Read and leave comments (7)


Twisted Harvest









quiet in the crackling grasses



listening to clouds swell heavy



waiting for the judgement hour


of cutting

scythed where the ears can’t hear you



trusting steel to complete this



now that the earth lies sanguine



drip drop rinse and release your



Read and leave comments (4)


The Crooked Beast At The End Of A Crooked Path

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...

Read and leave comments (1)

crooked pathdevilgraveyardlost soulsprayerthe beastrichpix

Dead Men's Boots

Dead Men’s Boots

tough as old leather
their souls worn down
eyes vacant of lace
collected by the door
the day they swapped
their pit-boots
for the Kings shilling
and donned their shiny
new military issue

there they stayed
gathering dust
and old potatoes
in their safe grasp
neatly lined
waiting for the return
of father and two sons
to the safety
of their hearth

day after da...

Read and leave comments (1)

bootsdead men's bootsrichpixsoldierstelegramWW1SITWB

An Angel Bathes In Tears

An Angel Bathes In Tears

Diniel rested for a second
and turned his eyes away
from those that he was caring for
and in that moment all was lost.
Now he bathes in the cascades
of acidic human tears
that flood the world with grief.
Erosive and corrosive
at the passing of infant souls
in a war that has no meaning
in a world that has no morals.
Now his dainty angel features
disappear unt...

Read and leave comments (3)

Child CasualtiesDeathJerusalemPalestineSorrowThe Angel DinielWarrichpix

Blood Moon

Blood Moon

“Sweet Katarina, dance for me”,
said the man with the black balloon,
whose face looked rather like a wolf
if glanced in the back of a spoon -
and for each dance she did for him
he would pass her another string
with a midnight helium ball
tied on to its end with a ring.

She danced until her little hands
were full of the magical twine
and the villagers all agreed
they’d ne...

Read and leave comments (0)

blood moonchild abductiondark fairy talefolk lorelossmagictemptationwolfrichpix

Craiglockhart (Not Yet Diagnosed Nervous)

Craiglockhart (Not Yet Diagnosed Nervous)

When I kicked over the wheelchair
I couldn’t do the simplest task,
except the epileptic flailing
of my military antimasque.
Turning on the hissing gas-lamp
had me reaching for the mask.
You opened up my mind
and you didn’t even ask.

Sh-sh-sh shut the fuck up,
I think I’m going insane,
I’ve got all these bombs
going off in my brain.
I’m lik...

Read and leave comments (3)

Craiglockhart Miliotary Hospitalmental illnessPTSDrichpixShell ShocktreatmentWW1SITWB

23:4 re-drawn


Mr Martlew

would you mind

if I sit awhile here

in the shade on my own,

you hushed in your hole,

in the valley of the shadow?

Shall I re-draw life

in the black lines etched above your bones?

Did it hurt?

Were you scared?

Do the stones weigh heavy?

Do they creak beneath the roses

and the green glass gravel?

Did it hurt?

Were you scared?

Were you read...

Read and leave comments (6)




Ferris ocularity,

observing holy motion,

facilitates the weaving

of an elemental web.


Cirrus drips precipitate

a waving,

all devoted to rotation,

sewing oceanic lace

and braiding rain

to brine the breeze.


Pleasure seeks a penny slot

as bed and breakfast tongues

lick the candy cane locale.                                                            ...

Read and leave comments (4)




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...

Read and leave comments (3)


This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message