I opened the front door and she just had her boots
Standing in front of me with sexy confidence
The light dimly on her, her curves in opulence
Wanting a reaction of swelling attributes

Looking up and pausing at her beautiful smile
Then down a bit further to her amazing tits
Her nipples glistening with the hardened pink bits
Perfection in my eyes as I stare her profile

The mound of her ...

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It’s 30 miles from mine to yours

But every night it feels like more

When I get in and clear my head

I want you but get me instead.

The smell of weariness and gloom

Has killed your hairspray and perfume

Though misplaced socks and sleeping mask

Make through the week a simpler task

In this, my fucking freezing flat

(No you to sort the thermostat)

It feels like ...

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I'm told to just give up, forget it,

forgiveness for all,

the past doesnt matter,

of course they'd let us fall.

no pretense is needed,

no i reason i can recall,

for why they left us bleeding,

right down here on the floor.

I want to wish them well

my best friend after all,

but forgetting isn't easy

and i can only crawl.

my sunshine has now faded

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Sat here waiting
Stupid posters on the wall
Like knowing 1/4 matters
Mental health for all. 

The chairs are stained and dirty,
Water fountain broke,
Magazines outdated.
Even leaflets on a stroke. 

The receptionist she mumbles,
Or is it the glass screen,
Protects her from the patients, 
Ring bells - they are unclean.

Mental or a leper,
It really doesn't matter.
You're all in thi...

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This television series is about spoken word poetry. The series features performances by established and up-and-coming spoken word poets. Performances also include special appearances by well-known actors and musicians. The series included historical legendary poets such as: Jamie Foxx, Malcolm Jamal Warner, Daniel Beaty, Jill Scott, Common, Kayne West, Tracy Morgan, Doug E. Fresh, Floetry, Raf...

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I've lost my way

my insight has disappeared

out of sight

hiding somewhere in this rut.

stale ideas coat the air

like bad breath,

my imagination 

is not fertile any more.

the lights have gone out

on my creativity,

I can't find any words

to fill the page.

I'm just staring in the dark,

hiding under blank sheets

on an empty bed

until somebody wakes...

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This poem is a short affirmation and image of a small holiday island some eleven miles offshore from Fremantle, Western Australia. It began as a prison for aboriginal men and boys after 1838, and from 1902 served as a gubernatorial retreat from the intense summer heat. It is sear and dry, bereft of natural surface water, and now is a watery playground for fishers, boaters, surfers and many others....

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The driver of a leathery 

Clapped out Hillman Hunter

Reeking of Capstan full strength 

And Lifebuoy soap

Dropped me off outside Devizes.

Rain came

I prised open a door to escape

Unrolling my doss bag 

On a scout hut floor.

I crept out early while the village slept

Washing down Kendal Mint Cake 

With a pint of gold top

Pirated from some bugger’s door.

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i was tearing the wings from eagles

while you caught mayflys

with your forked tongue

try grief so thick

it crawls between your legs

then come home

honey pie

lets dodge

lamps and crockery

like we used to

when it was raw

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I hate you 
You took me 
And I hate you 
You didn't ask
You just did 
Did what you want 
You didn't care
You said you did 
But you were selfish 
I hate you 
You took me 
Because you wanted to
You took me
But you didn't have funds 
You didn't have means
You took me 
But you couldn't keep me
So you dropped me
Left me
I hate you 
For taking me
Without being sure 
Without being s...

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Walking down the small town high street

Among the liquorice all sorts

Of shops cafes and pubs

There is the barbers

With flashing neon scissors

The corner café with the bloke

Who has cleared his plate

Of sausage egg beans and chips

And from a yawning plastic pouch

His hand rolls a neatly tailored cigarette

As his face his mind are somewhere else

Further up the...

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Some things taste better

Without a label, like fruit,

Prescriptions and people

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Work up a sweat raking fallen leaves
then you can burn them all
but one you find that clings
to the back of your hat
be it multi-coloured or brown
make space for it within a hardback book
(until rascals unearth it and
destroy it in their play!)
congratulations-
you have a poem.

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I have to say that I am rather upset, well, deeply offended actually, that the Nationwide Building Society (with whom I used to have an account) has so far chosen not to approach me for my very affecting poem on the joys of home ownership.

Burglar

Someone’s been in my house,
broke my china cat,
took a knife to the three piece suite,
shat on my Welcome mat.

Someone’s been in my house,
...

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(A celebration of the Adrian Mole poetry I wrote as a teenager.  And containing the finest line of verse ever to come from Chapel Haddlesey)

Mi firstest poems wa’ yonks ago;

I’ve lost ’em (God be thankst!);

Full o’ trite naivety

An’ post-pubescent angst.

Some of them’s political

(I put the world to right)

I solved world 'unger on mi own -

Right On! An’ Outta ...

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Soldier’s Box

Wooden box

Lock

Key

Brass bullet casing

Spent

Flakes of tobacco

Unsmoked

Grains of sand

Sepia tinted photograph

Pyramids

And pith helmets

Soldiers Service

And Pay book

Will unwritten

Will not needed

Nib encrusted

Fountain pen

Brass button

Coloured ribbon

Yellowed letters

Ink a faded blue

S...

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Wafting in blissful solitude

 I dine on spicy chorizo and the bouquet of warm red.

The glimmer of a lantern catches our fleeting looks

sip by sip.

Detached at first, then eager.

The mirage morphs into reality

as the angelic senorita abandons her corner

as we drink of each other’s mysteries,

prompting another merlot.

We wake up to the rain and the smell of jasmine.

Wis...

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when you free fall
crashing burning and worlds collide you may lust for your hunger in me
you may try to control the urge to lunge for me
what ever you maybe without the security of my loving arms keeping you close
putting your hand in mine
when you crumble before me clinging longing to be torn apart biting your lip will not help you my sweet
for you have fallen into the darkness of your own...

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Validation

is the golden prize we seek,

like a peer review for technical matters

we yearn to see if our contemporaries value our work

and appreciate it.

Only they can understand

the emotional turmoil

we have bound up in the things we write,

and the stresses we have overcome

to deliver this final draft,

even though we are never happy with it ourselves,

and continue ...

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I see spiders crawl out your mouth as you speak I wonder if that's a sign to not believe everything you see.
I wonder how many pins I can hit down in one strike making it to the finish line sounds pretty nice.
Can we make a deal a hand for a hand we can even shake on it I don't play pretend. 

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As I look at the moon tonight.
It is full and bright 
blue illuminates through 
my mind, stars align.
I am fine.

Lately, 
I've been burning up inside
my twisted demise,
my dystopia.
Tunnel vision, 
lost my mission, 
lost my way, 
lost my vision. 

Each night I sit with silence, 
enveloped in despair.
Constrained,
penning lines in my mind, 
I fail to keep, 
losing too much slee...

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To The Addicts Of The World

Cunning baffling and powerful are the words used to describe,
The truth of what addiction is, it will take your life with a knife.
Everything you thought you were becomes lost,
All that you cherish and love, gone at what cost?

Millions of people struggle everyday and it's truly tough,
Knowing that one is too many and a thousand never enough.
Pot, heroin, me...

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darkened places

like sunspots

behind my eye--

polarized retinal reflections

are closer than they appear.

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Have you ever tried to kill yourself by holding your breath?
No one's ever died from a lack of sleep...
(I dare you not to try it)
The hardest part of forgetting is when you remember.

Double check yourself, and down it goes.
Get ready, hold on, and jump out of the plane!
Hear the rush, gasp for breath, and let those bells ring.
Jump on that train, follow those tracks.
It's too much (but ...

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Gorecki Plays

     He was no narcissi,

He didn’t even like exposure

And despite the loudness –

Sought refuge in Gorecki,

His was a great misunderstanding

That in reality, became the pleasure

Of feeble minds,

     Rejected as sport,

Everyone he knew came

To lazy conclusions,

Enticed by an entity without heart and soul,

     He was as history told,

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And once things have transited
From friendship to love
It is never the case
That things will never
Be the same again

Or you’ll never be able
To do any of the things
That first drew us together
Whether texting each other
At six in the morning

Or sat there lost in thought
Each other words at literature nights
Even after the other one 
Has read and has been asking you
What did you t...

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Ah, the thrill

Of running down a street

Lit only by cafe glow

To see a dog 

Taking a pee

And bundles in doorways

That are sleeping men

Ah, the thrill

Of running down a street

Where students  smoke 

and taxis speed by

Or wait for fares

Where the smell of pancakes

And curry mixes

With the rubbish of the day

Ah, the thrill

Of running down a street

An...

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Mouth full of dirt, itchy throat,
loss for words but even if he could describe this, this…
his swollen tonsils wouldn’t let him speak.
Feeling weak, future’s bleak, refuge he seeks 
mind Immersed in simple rhymes, remembering simple times
Learning table manners, two times two gives four 
seventy times seven sins against another - still forgiven 
but now he...
ate deceptive words 
and 
fe...

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Nah nahnah nah nah you can't catch me !

read the facebook message from Moriarty,

Sherlock reached for his calabash and the needle

shouted for Mrs Hudson

went into a dream.

Watson was stuck without a computer,

so a boy was sent to fetch him at once

but the doctor was checking Mrs Watson

and didn't give a fig for his friend,

When Sherlock saw the light again

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I . Taytu Betul as a leader

“ Ethiopia is famed for being
A peaceful,hospitable and a warrior nation
How come  then it failed
To come to your attention,
As bees whose hive is threatened,
Citizens are ever alert to
To foil provoked aggression!

The 1889 treacherous
Wuchale treaty
I will tear apart
A messenger,with a tail
Between your legs,
Before you depart.
The Italian version
Th...

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Bristol poets especially may be interested in this event: The brilliant local poets Deborah Harvey and Tom Sastry with Open Mike. More details on the Gig Guide

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#1

Clumsily painted

treetops hang crooked under

the blue of snowfall.

#2

Violent wind shaves the

withered leaves from their limbs. Soft

rain licks at their wounds.

#3

The fury of tides

swallows sand and beach. Darkness

creeps as lightning sinks.

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Sometimes you know
This life feels like
 it's just pretend
And we sweep or dance 
Or drift or dream 
From one act or moment 
Unto another
But this is 
Our life
And it 
Isn't 
Pretend 
And all the drama
Well
That's real
If you want it to be 
So float across 
The stage
Should you choose 
Or drag 
Your heavy leaden feet 
Or rattle your chains
Or simply 
Move 
Like ghosts 
Bec...

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Slowly stirring from slumber deep

Open eyes, adjust to the dawn’s light

Lazily stretching limbs, emerging from under covers

Reaching over, his spot is empty and cool to the touch

How long has he been awake and gone?

Thinking he’s so sweet to let me continue my dreams

Hearing signs of life outside bedroom

Reaching for robe, sliding toes into slippers

Shuffling along, gr...

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True pride in a creative work,

I believe, 

Is not to merely be able to say,

'I did this'

But rather,

'This is me'

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Sometimes I question if what I'm doing is right.

I sit here in the sun all mixed up inside.

All I need is a voice from outside, but all I ever do is shut off and ignore all the signs.

Sometimes I feel like I'm bigger than the world.

This ego is inflated with the thoughts to destroy.

I'm brought back to the earth so quickly and so violently, I then again begin to question my sel...

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When push comes to shove

shove goes to love

love has been long-lost, dead like a wingless dove.

Endless children licking lips spitting grits

of our foul flying friends.

What has granted you food?

"The universe"  said the child.

My first thought was a singularity in poetry

why does it always have to me?

Feast please!  I only ask you bring tyrants before you to their ...

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for forever, for a cello

for a painting, New York school

for a drum, tight snare

for a branch broke 

for a tree, one branch less

for myself who is less

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We didn’t get the chance to know you.
We dreamt of you. We planned for you.
We picked out a name for you: Lauren, because I was sure you were a girl.
We told your big sister who was too little to understand, that you were with us.
But it was early. Admittedly, too early.
Because the morning sickness never came.
My belly never became a bump.
Instead, I cramped up inside that Saturday morning...

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Every argument leaves a fading scare,once before I seen your name written up in the stars.

It's hard to to dream when your not with me, I need to survive and be the once who's stronger.

Our human hearts don't realise they are strong as they are, they just lost along the way. 

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I guess that at one time or another - if we're being honest - we've all been blinded by the white hot heat and light of our fantasies, dreams, and ambitions; as poets it's practically in our job description to be thus.

The following poem owns up to flying too close to that particular sun, and the resultant crash-and-burn,

That doesn't mean we shouldn't keep trying for the impossible though ....

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This is a comi/tragedy, rhyming, pantomime type story of what could happen to anyone isolated in a community as a result of religious migration. Just as a matter of extra interest, I sincerely believe that when this parable is published (front page) nationwide in Parish Magazines of all denominations. a deeper understanding and acceptance? of each our peculiar idiosyncrasies will have, at last, be...

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His softspoken funny words used to make me laugh..

But now..forgetting those memories is really tough..

Hedoesn't even care what I need..

He said "no one can rejects you" but he did..

I was a day dreamer which made me stupid..

For him I was too small and gradual to be perceived..

He thought that it was a crush..as he is fool..

But I was in a rush ..which made me "emotional foo...

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Echo and Narcissus

         after Echo and Narcissus, by Glyn Philpot (bronze with green patina)

Did either of them have a moment’s unease?

He, before the pool of social media reflected back all he wanted to see,

She, before she found herself cursed by the god of Abandon, that minor deity

of the Home Counties

who thought he had only to ask the people, gi...

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Blame Game

You are the one that stifles my progress.

You put up barriers, then deny their existence.

You make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

You try to force me to conform to your ways.

You make me feel lesser.

You denounce my heritage.

You oppress my people.

You suppress my pride.

You widow our women; leave children fatherless and mothers without their babie...

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fangs and claws so sharp they could pierce the mightiest of rodant

long and sleek black hair made him stealth in the night

a face of beauty and pride with warmth through his deep green eyes

a half white mustage and as if he wore socks on certain feet

a full gentle heart if I ever did see one

as I trusted him with my two wee ones

his size above average, but not immune to a predito...

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How easy to pretend,

And all that jazz,

Missing him,

It's easy to recall,

Paintings on the wall,

Music in my soul,

I can hear the tinkle of your wine glass,

Fool me,

Fool yourself,

Fool each other,

All of the awakenings, 

Become one. 

Trinkets from each love.

Our eyes meet,

Across the crowded room.

As the dance continues... 

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I didn’t foresee

That carriage B

Would alter my life

In such curious fashion

And who even knew

That the 10:52

Could ever have been

The scene of such passion?

We entered the station

To great consternation

Our deeds were the subject

Of much speculation

But I don’t regret

And I’ll never forget

The good times we had

Before privatisation

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We were like ‘yin and yang’,

‘Spick and Span’

- Hot pot, big pan -

slick and tanned!

The could we can -

sweet, sweet like marzipan!

The kind of love that makes you FAT,

that attracts the sniff sniffing rats.

- Rap! Trap! Rat! The blind bats! -

But I walked and you ran,

I was kicked like tin-can

then you thought you were tin-man,

cause you forgot your heart ...

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I, undone and unable to bear

This burden is heavy and my legs may give

At any moment the pressure is rising

Uncontrollably and it tightens ever harder

As I lay here the thought of dying

Consumes all but the faintest glow

Of hope and a gasp of air

Is welcome to my thirsty lungs

Which have held their breath waiting

For this defining moment

Of pain and suffering unending

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