Poetry Blogs (2019)

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entry picture



Why do I now prefer writing in my bedroom?

when I have a perfectly good study

- a space cleared for thought?


I feel inspired to dream while I’m awake in here

- not there. Is it because I’ve just coated

the room and everything in it, a lilac pink? 


Is that the colour of my inspiration?      ...

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Also by Frances Macaulay Forde:

Vancouver Haiku | I am love. | Renovations 1 |

InspirationMother's Lovepoem

Deep Fakes

Deep Fakes


You’d need some training

To tell them apart


They’re almost identical

Down to their hearts


Touching on wide themes

Echoing sentiments


Assumed universal

Yet rareiy articulated


And they get you

Way after it’s late


Invested, gone public

Part of the calculation


You’ll ride it out

Further into trouble


It’ll b...

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Also by Robert C Gaulke:

first impressions | tiny mammal strategies | Conjugating Needs | Neverlook | acknowledgements | In Absentia | $9 | Playing Adults |

Girl With Tear

entry picture

Girl With Tear


She was having one of those bad hair days

The crystal blue eyed girl

The perfect lashes

The cultured brow

Outside the sky was the colour of slate

But the diagonal screen kept the night away

All she wanted was some square jawed Joe

To trample into her simple temple

All she ever got was schmucks

Them’s the breaks Daddy-o

Her face like some sunburn...

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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Monday Morning - 9AM | Chelp | AmericaZ | Elegy For A Ghost | Down At The End Of Lonely Street | From The Attic | Martyr | Raising The Standards (With Banners Held High) | The Turning Of The Tide | Vesuvius | Grit | heatwave | A List Of Things We Buried In The Garden | Blue On Blue Contact | Simple Pleasures | Manhattan Morning | The Parable Of The Wolf And The Lamb | In Memoriam | hide and seek | Time To Decide Patsy | Recipe For Disaster |

#metooappreciate another art formday 22Girl With TearNaPoWriMo 2019Roy Lichtensteinsadness

End of the World

I breathed in the cold and hardened my heart,

I flew with wings made of bone and crystal tears

I walked in a desolate gallery of unknown art,

And shouted with impudence in spite of fears


I bound my sorrow tightly and didn't let it squirm

I laughed at the silence just to hear a voice

But shuddered when the dark answered in return

Should have stayed silent, now regret my ch...

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The Unspoken

The wind cuts through this January night

Slicing like a razor through the skin of my face

Signs on the road hidden by an iron fog

The cry of the wind is all in vain.

Love crossed this black hole in time.

In the old be-jewelled, spider-webbed

Way kisses when young are tender and long,

Not in this frost-filled graveyard,

Where the dead remain unusually silent;

Yew tree sha...

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Also by John E Marks:

The ghosts who sell memories | An Airy nothing | After the genocide | Good Friday | The drawing of a torch | spring | elegy | The long genocide | Love in a police state | First Person | Teenage Dreams | Blue-remembered | Friend of the Devil | RAINY SEPTEMBER | In the dread of night | Stippled sky | Snow in June | Janissary | Another day | Entanglement (Verschränkung) | Truth | In commemoration of the fall of Kōnstantinoúpolis 29 May 1453 | Along the Unhallowed Way | Why Brexit? | A LURKING | METEMPSYCHOSIS |


Spring songs appear like ghosts

Hovering over the horizon

Happy memories

Playing in fields of daffodils

Golden rainbows

Mixed with stripes of hyacinth blue

Amber shadows projecting skyward

Against the rays of the rising sun

Time stands still as trees blossom

And fauns scamper among daydreams

Everlasting solitude of rebirth

For the dawning of a new day

A new seas...

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Also by Bruce Levine:

A Second Chance | 3 Haiku for Spring | Happiness Surrenders | Fate Has Set The Day | The End of Time | I'll Take Manhattan |

A Journey Forward

A Journey Forward


I do not fear being carried aloft

with all cares cast aside with me enwrapt

Sprinkled with holy water to cleanse

with clouds of incense to uplift

My departure will be as silent as time spent

to fly on the wings of angels to him who sent me

No regret shall accompany this onward journey

only the bells that ring the memories of times past

Farewell mor...

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Also by keith jeffries:

Write out Loud | This Friday | A New Fabric | Writing | I met a Lady today..... | ora pro nobis | The Harp of Summer´s Joy | Born a Criminal |

Poetry and the Cross-Pollination of Artistic Platforms

When people see a spectacular dancer,
They say, “Oh, that’s poetry in motion!”

And then they might see a moving painting,
And say, “That painting says it all—It’s like a poem!”

And good musicians are just considered poets.
I mean, Bob Dylan won a God-damned Nobel Prize
In literature, didn’t he?

But it doesn’t stop there. I’ve heard motorcycle
Races described at “pure poetry in action...

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Also by Randy Horton:

The Best Way to Grieve for a Child | On Bodily Autonomy and Geriatric Femininity | The Burdened Bookshelf as Will and Representation | The Impact of Utilitarianism on Unsuspecting Feet | The Magic and Mystery of Ministry | On the Disastrous Art of Losing | Texas Tornadoes and the Power of Prayer | Life, Love, and Leaving in Livingston, Texas | On the Destructive Power of Measureable Learning Objectives | If Gratitude Were Horses, We'd Never Fear A Stampede | Accepting an Infinite Regression of Causes | On The Odd Quality of Trumpets in the Mist | The Distinct Challenges of Hyperfocus | The Unintended Consequences of Complimentary Behavior | The Unreasonable Demands of April |



To describe the taste of an egg, is


in a thousand words

milk and water, similarly 


as I scramble for an answer.


© Graham Sherwood 04/2019

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Rain In Spain

You venture on vacation for some rest and recreation,

but instead you end up feeling rather glum,

‘cause your favoured destination leaves you stamping in frustration,

when weather comes and bites you in the bum.


Your friends all think it’s funny ‘cause back home it’s really sunny,

and here you are bedraggled by the rain;

you’re feeling somewhat crummy ‘cause you spent a lot ...

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Also by Trevor Alexander:

Floodplain | In Tune | Gone | Silence is…. | NaPoWriMo | Irish Logic | One More Bacon Butty | Come Away With Me | Táim sa Bhaile | Erin go Bragh | Soft Day | Reasons To Be Thankful | Every Day? | Older | My Souvenirs | The Big Question | Getting In | Summer’s Day | Wedding | The Match |

NaPoWriMo Day 22

think back/pink black

i am idiot young and 

in the back of the car 

i close my eyes just so 

the light of the sun 

between the trees beats a tattoo 

behind my lids and lenses 

and that is all I want to be 

just then - isolation 

pink black pink black pink black 

a heartbeat from 8 minutes before 

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Also by Stuart Buck:

providence | i am made of water and so are you |


I could say it blankets me like a black cloak

But it's more obvious than that

It's written all over my face

Apparent in my behaviour 

Silently curtailing my speech 

Keeping interaction at arms length 

Limiting my conversation to a smile and some pleasantries at best

But I wish you all a good day 

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Also by Philip Stevens:

Station to station | Write some poetry !! | Let the madness out !! |

Just being me

I want to change people views on me,

In which theirs eyes has a distorted view they see.

I was once wild and free,

But now theirs a broken heart inside me.


I used to fearless and free,

But this pain has gripped me .

I once thought love could conquer it all,

But with it comes the greatest fall.


I let my barriers break to low,

I took a risk so my feelings were on...

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Also by Joy LuvCamnkiancaleb Morris:

The branches of love |

Haunting The Boundary


from your uncharted expanse
birds sing
I have ventured 
to assume their meaning
and as far as the eye can see
I have a mind to people hidden lanes 
with numberless thoughts on each leaf

come from your unread expanse
parachute into my formal garden 
appear behind me like an emerging mole
I am reflecting upon your stillness
musing on the foreign tongue

aim at last from you...

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Also by Adam Whitworth:

Championing The Unlikely Hero | My Little Discovery | Lines To Copy | We, The Uneducated | Situation 1 |



in the lido

a solitary turd


past the sun

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Atlas Poetica 29

You would never believe me

You would never believe me if I told you that.. 
there are thorns in my conscience.. 
Of leaving faith and allegiance.. 

You would never believe me if I told you that.. 
there are hidden layers to the spoken truth.. 
Persistent lies lived in the times of youth..
You would never believe me if I told you that.. 
dark demons still reside in these caverns.
Dark and light shades of moralit...

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Also by mona s:

Memories | The Soul | The Tree | Twilight | Growing apart | What Dreams are made of.. | Nonet -Frangipani | Fragments | Pregnant Blue | The Portrait | Magic | Clouds | Pleiades - An enchanting valley |



Once more woken by my body’s aches

called away from recent dreams

that in a moment flee cool reading rooms

through one of four blue wooden doors

each to reach nothing less than

muddles heaped across a field of

bubble-wrapped, incoherent scenes.


My return each morning on zero gain

is caught on mundane memories

so trite as to leave them in the dar...

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Also by Peter Taylor:


Book End

entry picture

Lost in an oversized raincoat, she sits outside the library;

an old book, out of print in a dog eared dust cover.


Through thick prescription glass, puddles ripple

with memories leaking in the autumn rain,


spreading as oil dripping from a rusty sump;

time worn colours swirling away in a wet breeze.


Jaw set, head tilted, she tries to stem the flow,

but the past sl...

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Also by Jonathan Humble:

This Work Is Done | Gift | Yew | Red Pencil | Blanket | On The Road To Samaria | Coming Home |


You love me?


What is that

To love someone?


You need me

You want and take

On your own terms


But what do you give

In return?

What sacrifice is your's for love?


Your love has limits

It's caused such pain

You do not know me

Just my name

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In deep pools of stillness 

I drink of time 

as spherules drop

to ripple

Life’s reflection 

Seconds dance forever

Briefly stretching time

Eternal drops of motion 

spilling through 

my mind

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Senryu 1 | Wind Birds | Three Senryu (I think) | Crimson | The seer | Ballad of the Willow |


You have no idea,

I think, as I finish another line, 

That this is all for you -

Wouldn't you be surprised. 

Pages upon pages 

In order of time...

So silence was never quite silence,

You'll find. 

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Also by Hallielle Rose Dawson:

And Then | Sometimes | Hush, lovey. | A Fire | If You Were | Any Less (The Ocean) | Silence | Half order of bacon, make it a whole | Rock Bottom | For Too | Buckets |

River Bells Ringing

River Bells Ringing


the moon behind clouds

confesses her place

her hiding space

till the clouds away

fly startled and fay

like a night bird sleeping

in a peppermint tree

and the river bells ringing

g major and clear

and ringing the changes

and plain bob minor

peals his ranges

deals truth from lies

and the river boat rocking

to the river bells ringi...

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Brisk and colorless,

A pitted husk masks the ceiling,

The green earth rocking back and forth.


Horses halt before the golden trenches,

On this brisk autumn night,

Wind shaking their docile springs.


Your tongue raises to another tone,

Proclamations of the weathered elements,

And places of shadowed glory.


Blackened hands,

Covered in the dirt of yesterday’s...

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Also by Adrian Metcalf:

Shadowed Images | Goodnight | Delinquent | Continue On | Let's begin again | It is |


the well

There is a type of loss that embodies the feeling of standing still while everything around you is in motion.

This kind of loss stalks memories and preys on helpless moments of joy like a stealthy predator.

It is a cup of sand for a thirst so unbearable;

A full-body dizziness,

Nausea so intense that it hurts.

It is an unnatural fear that paralyzes one’s existence.

There is a loss...

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Also by Clarke:

Ode to Harleen |

Words of The Waiting Man 30 (Final Chapter part 2)

Is it so messed up that I hold you to your word
Until I bleed for all the times that you lied
I've never broken my word but you always break your own
So save yourself from the poison you poured my glass

You promised marriage but all you gave me was heartbreak
So now I'm here melting into a puddle
Trying to make sense of why you didn't want to stay
Was it me was I not good enough 
Two fuc...

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Also by Damon Blackery:

Words of The Waiting Man 30 (Final Chapter part 1) | Lonely Heated Killer | Words of The Waiting Man 29 | Panic Attack 4 | Hey There. | Mirror | Concrete Rose | Dumb Soil | You Won't Survive This Addiction | I Only Got A Job To Buy Her Glee |


Breaths escape me, choking on nothing.

The world spinning, a swirl of memories return.

The blood, the pain, the agony.

How my childhood was taken from me.

The bruises, the screams, the silence.

Why me? Is what I ask myself every day.

The truth, the lies, the emptiness.

The way the world turned into a nightmare.

The crying, the sadness, the trouble.

I don’t know wh...

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Being brokencryingescapesad poems

It's good to be a woman

It's good to be a woman at 30 years old.

 You can even ask for vodka to be cold.

At thirty you have something to surprise,

And see the excitement in his eyes.

When you are forty he nervously trembles.

 Hundred-year old man with Viagra gambles.

It's good to be a woman at the age of fifty

 Climax has already passed, you are shifty.

It's good to be a woman at the age of sixty.


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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

Everyone chooses for himself ... | The Burning Cathedral |



How I loathe the fake familiarity

That infests the modern media,

The habit of using diminutives....

Appalling applications of acedia.


Next time a senior police officer is seen

Being interviewed about whatever,.....

Check his first name on the TV screen

It's a fair bet that it's never


The name that he was given at birth

But a baby name excursion -

As if they ...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


Easter Eggs



Once was a hare

that in imagination played

who in a cheerful spirit

set about the colored eggs he made

such was the mystery

but be that as it may

he deposited the eggs he laid

least that's what people say


Then children awoke and spoke

in words of wondrous surprise

excited to go hunt the eggs

to which they were apprised

in every niche and nook they...

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Also by d.knape:

Restaurant | Sleepy Head | Emojis | The Time Before | Lasting Love | Free Speech | Autism Rhythms | Laughing Gull | First Ride | All In A Day's Work | Grievance Industry | My Life | When Bluebonnets Bloom | Unsolicited E-Mail | Crime Story | Ghost Town | MAN IN A TRUCK | Earnin' Their Keep | Discovery |



so you can
read my mind
but not between
the lines
can't know
if yourself
isn't seen
in my
while yours go
without a trace
point out faults
give opinions
and thoughts
done the same
not yet caught
from a
glass home
chip on the
will become
a boulder
spite others
cut off nose
find your

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Also by cindylee loucks:



Highbury Fields

That sixteen-year-old words 
scratched there in a diary
could bring the two of us here
seems almost supernatural

A spring-evening walk, so like us
the us we were as teens
when you were my first and still my only kiss
as we walked the peaceful parks of home

Now so many years stretch across
a wide valley of unshared experience
squealing and dancing between us
slowly and methodically w...

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friendshipold flameold friend


old men leaving cafe tables emptied
tan stubbled faces worn dinner jackets
brown shoes
big gestures
yelling down the block
to a nod then wave goodbye

old women arms full with morning shopping
pleasant round faces bright colored wraps
brown shoes
wrinkled eyes
telling the stories of ages
to a stranger's conversant smile


--night is never more than a half day away
from lonesome ...

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Also by elPintor:

animals | mirrors |


entry picture

(Every year on the occasion of my birthday my daughter and I take on a challenge in support of Candlelighters, a charity which supports kids with cancer.  We have abseiled, cycled and rowed a marathon.  This year, because she says I am knocking on a bit, she has set us an easy one - a 20 mile walk along the old railway line from Selby Abbey to York Minster.  If anyone would like to contribute to t...

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Also by John Coopey:


an unconfirmed letter

I am afraid that I might hurt myself. I am afraid I might fall down on the sidewalk from weathering these inaudible, raging storms called ‘thoughts.’ I am afraid that a rooftop may be more appealing than a stairwell. I am afraid a tangled body may be more beautiful than a body unmarked, because a body unmarked is as scrambled on the inside as a ball of cat-clawed yarn.

And a tangled body is an ...

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Also by Alex J.J:

A Plea for hope |

Intersections and Timeline

Sometimes when I watch the city lights

slowly die to give way for the night,

or listen to songs you wrote about me

as I stand in the backroom window in my apartment,

I wonder if you’ve forgiven me

for all the times I didn’t love you as much

when you were still here with me holding my hands.


I know it has heen a busy couple of months

with everything happening all at onc...

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entry picture

Sunlight on your skin

Teardrops in your eyes

Reaching down your chin

Hearing out your cries

Tearing me apart

Knowing I’m the reason

For your aching heart

And all I did was offer you a treason.

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Also by Ana Dobrev:

5am |

guilt sad


I first noticed the village pump some years ago

when there were farms, spreading fields,

a lovers lane, open sky to the west.


Today, I find a maze of habitation,

a settlement satisfied with itself,

taking serenity for granted


leaving such little trace;

a pond of sorts surviving,

crude tyre marks of mountain bikes

bloodied by mud at the bank.


I was frank...

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Also by ray pool:



entry picture

Hello from the other side,
from protected words, created lights,
as something small,
something right,
distant signal, so hard to recognize.
I don't feel I can...no I can't,
I can't really write tonight.

Hello from the city streets,
purple in the deep, fading lights
with contrast of white on white,
shattered through the dark,
broken in their half,
I am sorry cause I can't.....

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free writelove poetrypoetrySpoken Word poetrywriting

New Friend

Bipolar one disorder. I did not flinch. Warm and genuine, I liked him right away.

Open mike night. He played guitar. Part of the regular crowd. I had seen him many times, always with a   smile.

Beer was good and we talked over the music. It was only our second meeting, yet the conversation flowed   with ease. Relaxed and natural.

Been a lawyer he had. But not the "good kind" and he gave m...

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Also by Lisa C Bassignani:

A Tractor's Wife | Lisa | And the Mouse Said... | In the Closet | The End is Nigh | Open Mike Night | Eggs | Write or Wrong | Walking |

connectionsmaking friendsmental illnesssaying helloshyness




The fractured shards of broken glass, the crash of sirens, the smell of hash

Of pain and hope, intertwined in acid, of mindless rage, the taste of wet grass


I walk in pain, this life a farce. 

Cursed son of Cain, slave to dark arts


To render time, we worms of smoke

For the greatest lie is a tale of hope


To seek truth on a razors edge 

A taste of blo...

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Also by The Carbon Quill:

Goodbye My Friend |

Crowbar 6

fog condensed 

percolated upon the brows

of fallen kings: 

that we descended like spiral staircases

wherein every step 

suspicion creaks like bone 


sheathed just-so

 we are unknown

a swath of heads 

taken, cackling in the streets 

bobbing in gutters, downwind and downgrade 

before meeting Death; 

pummeled and pestled 

squashed, pressed into mortar, 


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Crowbars and where to find them


In fine feather
steadfast alone
April beauty blooms
Masculine, feminine
in perfect balance
Sun-kissed petals
of satin pink
a vision of majesty
A tree of Magnolia


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Also by Jane Briganti:

A Butterfly Is Born | Almost There | Overtures | Roads Ahead |

The Ties That Bind


Fur coat, no knickers.

No better than she ought to be.

Common as muck.

Too clever for her own good.


Slung out lines to stunt and mould,

ensure she doesn't reach her goals.

Keep her tight inside a box,

locked away from greatness.


Slappers, tarts, MILFs and cougars,

girl next door with Page 3 hooters,

sluts and slags and dirty bitches,

fried egg tits a...

Read and leave comments (6)

Also by Laura Taylor:

Immaterial | Proclivitas | Scopaesthesia | Atlas | Cycle Haiku | Triptych | Buzzword Bingo | The Gift | Sustenance Rap | Song Sung Blue | Incomplete | Once Upon a Time | Call and Response | Recipe for Change |

Napowrimo 2019

I slept with a girl (revised for new book)

She was naked, slender, elegant.

Standing before a mirror brushing

her curly natural raven-black hair.

She giggled across the bedroom rug

lifted the bed sheet. Slid beside me.

The headboard tattooed against the wall

in time with our grunting and gasping.

She stretched a hand towards a drawer

where she hid fluffy handcuffs away

I took chocolate cake from the f...

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Also by Rick:

Nothing left to chance |

Fit in

once was a sweet inocent young girl

a young girl who always followed the rules

always listen what was told

never disapointed anyone

but she was never happy

always wanted to fit in

and to be loved and to be popular

honestley she would do anything to fit in

even go to places she shoudnt go

like to that party she didnt even want to go to 

but if that meant fitting in


Read and leave comments (1)

Also by Justine Ramos:

Today is the day | Pleasure | Lies of Happiness |


entry picture



Thou shalt pass the plate of brass

With felt to deaden the ring of coins

Or take the collection

In bag of leather or bowl of wood

Remembering to avert thine eyes

At the widows mite

And the rich man’s notes.


Thou shalt wear a smile

Of indifference

Even unto those who turn their heads

Or pass the parcel quickly to their neighbour

Or over th...

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Liverpool poetryWelsh PoetryWelsh Poets.David Subacchi


entry picture


Anthropology -
Wonts, in close study -
Provides students with
A good insight on
Many ways to live.

And students well-read
Are oftentimes led,
To Left of Centre -
That happened to me.

With “immigration,”
However, I’m on
The side of all those
Who, questioning “aims,”
Make misled-Left foes.

(C) David Franks 2003 -

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She takes her hand off of the door

Doesn’t quite know what all of this is for

Am I going to never want more

She’s silent, mouth and mind

This woman ever kind

And thinks without meaning to

“My life is gone,

All I knew”

And though she fidgets in high heeled shoes

Her hands move to the knob,

Her heart begins to throb

She feels all weak in the knees

Can someone stop...

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Also by Josie Harris:

Tiny |

Show more entries …

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