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Light that brings me home

With a warmth inside I'm heading home.
Shadows fall as I walk into the dark,
slowly losing the sight of my goals.
Alone, I have killed the sun,
now even the moon fears me.
No one by my side,
getting ready to give up,
I stopped,
opened my eyes,
I saw a light that was running towards me.
Soon a relaxing laugh followed,
in my mind it was hallowed.
The light shone brighter and brighter,

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poetrycomfort zonecrushfeelings

Love me this way, if you love me too

Often have seen you stuck
Amid being smart and schmuck
Here’s my answer to how should you?
Love me this way, if you love me too

Wake up with me at the dawn-break
Yawn, smile and kiss my forehead
Wish a good morning before I do
Love me this way, if you love me too

Avoiding me is a gross mistake
In a quick second, respond me back
At least twice a day, say “I miss you”
Love me this way...

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Their fire is not seen for miles;



Silent, but ferocious.


They are brighter than what catches the eye.

They will be able to burn forever.

They just need their match to ignite.




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Can't stop thinking about you

A year has gone by,
yet I still try,
I try to reach you,
I try to touch you,
still every attempt is a fail.

Your eyes used to be the light,
your smile used to be the way
your laughter used to be inspiring.
Now your absence is my suffering.

I endure only pain,
happiness I no longer gain,
beauty I no longer see,
I'm drowning in misery.

As days go by,
we grow apart more and more,

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poetrylove poems


I’ve forgotten when I first read

books about John and Mary,

The Happy Train or Let’s Learn To Read


but I remember the comics

dad bought home each Saturday afternoon

from work. Bundled in his arms were


Beano, Dandy, Eagle, Hotspur, Look & Learn

and I’d devour them one at a time

and no one stopped me.


I loved the strips: Corporal Clott,

Desperate Dan, Dan...

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poetrycomic booksreading

Repeated story

I got used to you,
now time doesn't go by without you.
I got used to you,
that I cannot even smile when you're not around.
I got used to you using,
there's no point in whining now yet I still do it.
Can't believe what I did for you,
was I just a toy?
At least you had fun,
you had a blast,
while I slowly think of every word you said.
It hurts me to see you go,
but it hurts more when you...

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poetrypoemreal life

World based on lies is not what we enjoy

Why are we such cowards,
afraid to admit our feelings,
or just to say what's on our minds.

Why do we keep hiding behind masks
thinking that we are protecting the future,
always ending up as our dream's butcher.

How are we not tired of telling lies,
running off in secret playing spies,
to end up finding that love is what everyone wants before they die.

Mutual feelings are real,
we s...

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Waiting In Brooklyn

Balancing my brains with bourbon in some back-ally Brooklyn bar
nighthawks that had lost hope looking for the diner, perched in a meticulous row like tin ducks on a crooked shooting gallery on Coney Island

The fella to my right was coyly flirting with a glass of miller draft, his hands embraced around but not to tight, so that it didn’t slip through his fingersas the love of a good woman once ...

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Tom WaitsamericanaCharles BukowskiBukowskipoetrypoemBeat PoemBeatnic

Dream State of Mind

Dream State Of Mind

Maybe this is a dream
All I know is I don't wanna go back to reality
A cotton-candy blue and pink sunrise, a beautiful color scheme
Everything's sweeter here, I'm oblivious to my problems and I'm carefree
Laying under a bridge, graffiti tags, remnants of troubled soul's past, lit by a sunbeam
In front of me, I see water blue as the baltic sea
Breathing the air warms my...

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Last Night You Held My Skin Between Your Fingertips

Last night you held my skin between your fingertips;
You washed slow kisses upon my parted lips.
Last night you drew circles across my across my thighs, upon my naked knee;
And gave your closeness to me.

Last night you left lotus-marks upon my throat,
Your eyes seethed against mine, where I had grown remote.
Last night the night lengthened to conceal in billows of silk bliss
The aching me...

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Horrible Bliss

Very surely I’ve been remiss
To imagine you, darling, like this!
Oh, the melded hours have cruelly conspired
To strand me in ecstasies of longing—which I so desired!—
To abandon me to oceans of thoughts of your kiss—
It’s a breathless caress, plunged in the shuddering abyss;
Oh, darling, what bitter elation—what horrible bliss!

I’ve made lists which contain nothing but your name!
And of ...

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The Fish

The other night I dreamt a strange dream of a fish that I’ve been thinking about ever since
What follows below are the events.

The fish was long and silver and it lay in my arms swaddled in cloth like a child
(The fish had no name).
And though I was repulsed by it I felt deeply that it needed affection, and
Perhaps I needed the same.

So I held the fish in my arms and though it did not sp...

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rudely interrupted

It is the assumption that people tend to reflect and contemplate in the dawn of the night 

When noones awake to hear the sorrow in your sobs

When it's too dark to see the weakness in your eyes 

And your lonliness enables your imprisoned vulnerability to surface 


But what happens when this negativity suddenly seep its way into the happenings of your everyday life 

When these mor...

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I Love Too Fast

I love too fast; I want too much.
I’m awake late at night when I think of your touch—
It isn’t a virtue, I couldn’t call it such
I’m a fool; it’s a burden I must carry.

And you’re right to be wary.
I’d even call myself very
Very vain, full of airs
Caught in so many affairs—
Maybe two—maybe more.
Maybe four—it’s not true
I want you,
Won’t you kiss me?
Won’t you ever ever miss me?


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You Do Not Go From Me Violently

You do not go from me violently;
No, but silently I comprehend that—I must forget.
You do not leave me with stentorian curses,
But with empty pages of sorrow; of
Mute regret.

Now I face the days of losing you
And nights of spite.
But it is indistinct, reluctant, and not obtrusive, almost translucent;
It is light.

No, you do not leave me in bitter torment,
But only a little out of bre...

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losslove poempoempoetry

Where Is My Home Among These Mountains?

Where is my home, among these mountains?
That stretch faded and indigo blue,
From sky to sky?
That night become dark, and offer refuge to
The wistful whisper;
The bitter cry?
Did I come here to live—or come back to die?
In these mountains that I loved
Oh, it’s still, it’s still unknown,
To me, where—where is my home.

Where is my home among these mountains?
Where I lived and where I gr...

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who do you see

Out of all the people I know

none really know me

every time I meet someone new 

I put on a face for someone to see

But I have just met someone 

who figured out the truth 

Ans all the things I always feared and never followed through

and guess what 

they didn't see me as a threat

they loved my personality 

the moment that we met

we had the fears and they deemed just...

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Black, black is all I see

is this reality or but another dream 

I'm on a path or is it a maze 

a light will flicker but it will quickly fade

leaving me in a dark lonely haze


what have I done where will I turn 

I even question myself will you ever learn 

up to this point, I haven't learned a bit 

my life is still in a deep dark pit


drug away from life and joy 


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Trust is an illusion

Trust is an illusion. A systematically flawed word. A total forgery of a statement. Trust assumes infallibility - without errors, mistakes or fuck ups. How do we trust others when we can't even trust ourselves .. If the potential gain outweighs the potential risk we're likely to oblige. Whether the repercussions be momentary or long standing, we're going to indulge in whatever we feel is beneficia...

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The twinkle in the stars

the whisper in the wind

climb a tall tree 

and sit on a limb


sit there and think 

let your mind go wild 

finally, I was free 

but for just a little while


listen to the coyotes 

howling by the tracks

and listen to the river

flowing in the back

listen to the leaves rustling in the wind 

look at the owl 

trying to fly

or ...

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Broken promise

I knew from the start 

not to leave the house

the snow was falling 

and the wind was howling


I knew after a while 

I was going too fast

while flying around a corner

I tried to let off the gas


I knew at that moment 

that there would be pain

I thought of the physical stuff

not the pain that would make me go insane


I knew when it hit me 

that it r...

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Autumn at the SoapBox Poetry Club

Summer has passed and autumn is rolling in - which means the SoapBox Poetry Club is back. Our regular poetry night held at the John Peel Centre, on the last Wednesday of the month, features a nationally renowned poet as a headliner, two local poets and one musician in support. We book exciting, passionate and political young poets. Those at the forefront of poetry in the UK. The kind of writers an...

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'Realisations' - available to buy now!

Hi all,

I have just released my third ebook 'Realisations' - a year after my debut ebook 'Open to interpretation' and it's subsequent second edition. It is available to buy now on Lulu via this link:

A brief preview is available for all three of my books on the website itself. Please buy a copy now and support ...

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Christian ReevePoetryEbookPoemsPoemPoetbooknewwriter

sky at night

Stars, moon, sky

the sound of cricket sing at night

All of these wouldn't matter without you by my side.


Feel free to follow my IG here>>

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Spent shell casings everywhere

gleaming in the July sun

bodies of three martyrs lie

victims of a German gun

Italy is crying now

see how fast the tears run.



Three priests in nineteen forty four

slaughtered by the devil’s hand

innocent of all misdeeds

outrage sweeps throughout the land


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David SubacchiItalypoetrywar poetry


I've never seen this look in your eye,

It's over, finally, it's over

And we hold that truth deep inside

So tonight,

Hold me tighter than you ever have,

Kiss me sweeter and love me harder.

And we will cry,

But it's ok.

We're not broken,

And even if we are,

From tomorrow on, I'll carry every piece of us With me in my soul.

So give me one last memory,


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Please Don't Grow Up

We all couldn't wait

To grow up, to get out

To fully understand

What the world was about

Only to find

On the other side

The beauty we saw

As a child, had died

The day turned to night

The blue turned to gray

The innocence of life

Had faded away.

So many dreams

Now seem cast down

Remember when difficult

Meant choosing marker or crayon?

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growing olderpoetrylovepoemshort poemexperiencelife

Too busy to live

We're always looking,

Searching, reaching

For the next thing,

Person, place

That maybe,

We miss the things 

That really matter

Only to find

At the end 

Of our lives 

That we've never 

Really lived.



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How it ends

Staring blank-faced at each other 

From across the room

The space between us, a few feet,

Feels as a thousand miles now

Emotionally exasperated

The tears tore through the facade

That we wore for so long

Telling ourselves "we're ok"

We were dead long ago

We were only being buried now.

How did we get here?

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My Misses has a Mistress

My Misses has a mistress

She comes here then and now

She always sneaks in quietly

And when she leaves she's loud

She lives here some nights

On the other side of the bed

She stays here with my misses

She lives inside her head

I watch her leech away her life

She slyly steals her smile

And when she wants to make love

She takes my misses for a while

She didn't come ...

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Far Away

Is the high worth the pain?

Or for the sunshine is the rain?

Stuck between this world and yours,

Both of my feet in different doors.

Quiet and desolate desert night,

My soul thirsts for your love's light

Restless and weary as I lay, Far away, Far away.

The whistling wind and blowing breeze,

The moon, it sets my mind at ease

The sun radiates through my soul,

Warming wh...

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poetrysoldierwardeploymentsoldiers in warsoldiers

Thoughts about You

I remember the late nights I lay awake thinking about you.

Your smile
Your eyes
Your hair

The way you looked at me when I was heavily intoxicated.
You were laughing.
Not the “I’m sorry for you laughing”
But the genuine laughing.

(With a smile that could light up the world)

The memory makes me think we dated
But that’s a silly thought.
So many of my thoughts surrounded you.
It w...

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free versepoempoetryindie farroughthoughtsthoughts that keep you awakelove

The New Normal

The sad little man with the bulging face,

his sense of victory is Britain’s disgrace.

Voting out tolerance, electing hatred in its place,

by reducing complex issues into ones of race.


“The war is over, and we have won,”

says the phoney, slimy, suited hooligan,

knowing full well the conflict has just begun –

all hail our unelected pound-shop Napoleon.


As he soaks u...

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eat your meat

the brightest star in the darkest of light where
the darkest soul shines its brightest light
theres beauty in the dark
theres blood in my heart
you look down on me while
I look up to the sky

prove my self to my self and to no one else
I look into your eyes as I pass you right by
you sit staring and wonder why I wont fight
i wont fight all your ignorance i dont have the time

I fight m...

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but not like that

not like the way that first sunray feels

when it hits your winter-pale skin

not like the contented way you fall asleep

in your hammock

underneath the moonlight

like the saltwater smell in your hometown

or the taste of banana pancakes on the weekends

not like the kick you get

when you snap a perfect picture

not the like the adrenalin that travels through you veins


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The boy I met , the man I love

“Knees go weak or my heart pounds”
This never happens when he is around
Fingers don’t tremble but smile gets a curve
For the boy I met, the man I love
Stylishly shoves the door and enters the room
Weaves dream- threads on the thought-loom
Freezes me as he raises right brow
that boy I met, the man I love
Hands in hands, on those busy streets
Owned me in his humo...

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A Tale Of Reincarnation

6th December



There was a monk
well, a former monk
and he was handing out free cups of tea
to passers-by
As he did he spoke of
Great Energies
and letting go of material possessions.

I took him up on his offer and we conversed
but then he asked me about my job
and I ashamedly admitted that I felt down
I work for a corporation
but he held me in a s...

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poetrypunk poetryleedspoempunkcomedyhumourblack humour


A Loan Man stands


Awkwardly in a conference room

Through corrugated glass slats

Cracks reveal stacks

of printer paper, standard size

Promising- so bright and white

And towering

Taller than he

Behind which he hides.


Closes his eyes.

Hand to forehead

Elbow to stack

A prayer recited: "Is it five o'clock yet?"

"Somewhere", he thinks

And ther...

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american cultureamerican workchandra mossinecorporate culturecubiclecubicle lifecultural criticismcultural critiquepoempoetrywork life

Snake Oil Sells the Economy

From the front of the conference room

He wraps us in a voice born of the pulpit

Buttery and gravelly and low


He floats down from the makeshift stage

Tells of the flying fish

Gives us magic sunglasses

So we can see through water


He's here to talk about new eyes

To see what under(lies)


He's selling a new language

In it, we write our morality on the wall


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chandra mossinecultural criticismcultural critiquedonald trumppoempoetrypolitical


She'll take them back

The stones cut carefully and stacked against her

Her winds find ways through the cracks

She'll take them back 

All content property of Chandra Mossine

*This original poem was published by the Columbia Art League in their 2014 Interpretations collection

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chandra mossineentropynaturepoempoetryproseshort formshort poem



A sharp stick

In rough hands


Searching plains

To make bodies temples


Over wood fires

Quietly smokes rise


To industry

(and thanking, we ate)


Today struggle becomes clammy fingertips

Yearning for


The slick touch

Of some ancient bones

That time had turned to sludge


But we're

Always seeking

Always making new temples


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chandra heartlandchandra mossinecultural critiquemodernitypoetry

Every thing

Anything and everything is what I want 
Life and love is just for us 
Like Kings and queens jealousy is unjust 
suspicious trust patience has no rush 
distinctive characteristics 
Like the talented and Gifted 
On a impossible mission 
To find someone with the purest of intentions


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Dear Bob Dylan

"Dear Bob Dylan is a collection of letters written over a ten year span. The letters encompass a literary endeavor by the author as a means to hone her voice without boundaries, to express all that is insoluble and alive in her life and like any philosophy, lend to a new perspective for friends, fans and critics alike."

I am thrilled to announce the publication of Dear Bob Dylan.  Currently ava...

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Bob DylanpoetryphilosophyLisa Zaranbooksletters

Sunrise Lover


Sunrise lover from

Soft, warm darkness.

Light filters in at sunrise and

Rises from the floor and spreads to the ceiling.

As the room brightens, his form slowly comes into being,

Emerging from the rumpled pile of bedclothes.

Smooth, soft, dark and lovely.

I lie with him, my face resting against his.

In the half light I can just make out

His eyelashes, resting on hi...

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love poetryPoetry

School Days - Best Days Of Our Lives?


The pallor of the parquet floor
Brings recollections of
School, its classrooms, its corridors

Somehow the pattern pulls
Me into a journey through
Time; conjuring images

Of art and assemblies,
Of laughter and lateness,
Of parents and pupils and plans:

For a future unknown;
For escaping the lessons
And the chill of those changing rooms.

A mishmash of memories,

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When I was young I learned to dance.

Early on I took the chance to swerve,

To have the nerve to move my hips,

Have the balls to move my lips and shout.

There never was a moment of doubt

I would be the one to blame.

I would have a claim to fame.

I would be the one who’s always brash.

I would be just Northern trash, with attitude.

The one who’s r...

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The Way the World Ends

This is the way the world ends.
Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
Do not fear the light of the dying star for it will yield no pain.
It is mortal, it is ended.
Fading out like the dimming of the candle, then extinguished, forever.
No light shall ever again grace these barren lands
As dust forever billows across its scarred surface
And drinks its voluptuous seas.
Like a standing ovation,

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poempoetryreal lifeexperiencelovelove lostlos angelescaliforniasadbrokenbroken hearted poem

Radio Interview with Melanie Manchot

My interview with the artist Melanie Manchot for Brighton's Radio Reverb. You can hear me talking about the back story to Zones of Avoidance which won the 2013 Ted Hughes Award for New Work in Poetry

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Zones of Avoidancelive literaturepoetryaddictionadoption

A Poem For Spring - Ms. Shannon Frog

Ms. Shannon Frog
(By Paul A M Palmer)
Wintering in the dark
Beneath the rock
Beneath the stone
Beneath the bark
She sleeps
Dreaming of Spring
Amongst the males
Amongst the grass
Amongst the green
She sleeps
No thoughts of fear
About the fox
About the crow
About the stoat
She sleeps
Then in the Spring
Beneath the rock

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