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Sonnet (Remove filter)


How so in lockstep with time is nature:
leaves drift in waves with the passing seasons,
marking an arrow's flight to the future
as the fate of life, which even treason's

high schemes and plottings would fail to outwit.
Each year i watch them through my window fall
to earth as they to nature's laws submit,
and am thus reminded i've bugger-all

to feel cocksure about: all things must pass...

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Love: just a quack cure, or panacea?
Could it heal all ills, like romantics say
or is what's actually revealed here
a deeper need, to keep hard truths at bay

with rose-tinted fantasies of 'The One' -
meeting your matchless other in a soul
who'll not rest 'til your loneliness is gone;
who'd nurture you and catch you, should you fall;

who'd be both free spirit yet faithful muse?
That an...

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Say, pretty caul, what sweet treasure you hide!
How few of us grasp its proper function
(much less the sensitivity inside,
nor the joy derived when giving unction.)

Perhaps some instruction might be supplied
by each owner, upon application?
For should this motivation be denied
it would stay a loss to half the nation,

while t'other half would remain unaware
that what's once given would...

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Cherished in my dreams, you've remembered me,
relishing those few brief moments we shared
just as i've held you in my thoughts, and wished
i'd had the bravery to say something
more - perhaps my number, hinting to ring
as soon as you got home - but i finished
off leaving you convinced i hadn't cared
enough, as i recall, to want to see

you again. Well, Donna, that's just not true!
I've ki...

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Worn weary, to the edge of sleep my feet

ache, blistered in lead boots, all topped by burn

of calf and thigh; my sole urge to return

to Leafy Glades, i head down Spencer Street,


where it hits me: i've not been here in years.

Forty-seven, to be exact. A flood

of memories overwhelms me. I stood

on this precise spot then, when, in my ears


the first inkling of a revol...

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Scars gouged through wood - whittled, age-worn grooves,

angles and curves releasing someone's name

from the desk they once called theirs. Each line proves

the testing of some long-forgotten fame,


some cock's reputation, whose ego's claim

to eternity's been overwritten

by a succession of hands - lives bitten

and chewed by history, the very same


hunger to be remembe...

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Check out those two kids! Only ten years old

and wasting their time in beating with sticks

the corpse of that shopping trolley. What kicks

can they be chasing? They've never been told

how to play well, i guess, so they don't know

any better (i can see in their eyes

they're barely enthused.) Soon they leave their 'prize'

abandoned, with one last, lethargic blow


and wand...

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Go Live Day

Sheaves of stamps with perforated edges

Crumpled postal orders and giro books

Biros, jotters, paperclips and ledgers

Welcoming smiles and knowing, sideways looks

Parcels, diligence and calibration

Columns filled with calculator clicks

Ink stamps thud in rhythm with the nation

Lips seal envelopes with efficient licks

One day they came with boxes, drills and cable

“It’s ti...

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posto officesonnethorizonpoliticstechnology

Sonnet 1 - Chorlton Water Park

Face down in the water, she was found, unknown,

a mystery shrouded in the middle of Chorlton's grace,

No name breathed out, no story to call her own,

her life lost in a fleeting, haunted trace,

Lime-green top, drifting in endless sleep,

jeans covered in watery hue lay tragically still,

A tragic tale over the banks, sorrows deep

her mystery longers, pushing against our will.


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SonnetChorltonChorlton Cum Hardy

Still Moon

Why does one feel with the moon,

Hidden at day and awake at night?

Why does one sing a tune,

Of all that is sad and full of spite?

Why hold on to goodbyes

And keep a sour mood,

When by all the time that flies

You could have been renewed?

O, know that in my mind you fill

And you will always occupy my heart.

So that when the world for me grows still,

Of my soul you w...

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: Prose and Poetry :

He thought in prose everyday.

And in prose he made his way.


His head held the heart in check.

The heart had no choice to make.


Often it would in a silent mourn -

Stifle a sigh and a silent groan!


His head preferred nothing less.

The heart kept trying nevertheless.


Then deep inside he heard it's voice.

One day thus he made the choice.


And to hi...

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Snow in Spring (A Sonnet)

Snow in Spring

The buds on trees, once ready to bloom,
Are now weighed down in icy despair.
Deserted nests, birds are silenced in doom
Awaiting the spring sun's fair share.

Snow in Spring is a paradox of sorts,
A clash of seasons to nature's surprise.
leaving the path frozen the news reports
As winter's remnants refuse to demise.

The chill in the air, a bitter reminder,
That even i...

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Early Spring Sonnet

The end of Winter's grasp now fades away,
As Spring awakens with its vibrant bloom,
The earth renews blowing softly across the bay
dispelling the coldness in the winter's gloom,

the Spring carries secrets of life renewed,
a promise of the growth that's to come,
the hazy sunrise, dancing on the leaves like dew
in a symphony silencing the hum.

My emotions swell with gratitude and cheer

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Smitten (A Sonnet)

He was smitten with love for her;
by that arrow deep and sure.
A gooey warmth between them;
filling the heart all within.

But, love's shaft festered, stinking foul;
to gangrenous, aching howl.
Through steamy glass his love moaned;
as he stood outside alone.

Those barbs cannot be reversed;
holding fast in a soul feeling cursed.
Longing for the lost one gone,
to the breast of a differ...

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SonnetLoveHateLove LostPainValentine's Day


To the only begetter of this ensuing sonnet Mr P LARKIN All happiness and that eternity promised by our ever-living poet wisheth the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth

They fuck you up, your Fathers and your Mums:
Their Birthright, Dowry, Heritage, and Lot
Of Faults, with further added to their Sums,
Pass down from what they had to what they've got;
These Faults, again, they gained fr...

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The next sub-theme in Love's Tempest is 'Imaginary Relationships'.
Before you begin to experience love, you think about it a bit, imagine what it might be like.
And at that age too, you're being asked to write stories a lot and poems a little bit at school.
Practicing story telling and poetry writing and thinking about love, it all merges together...
This first one experiments with sonnet form...

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early poemimaginary relationshipslove's tempestsonnet

Sonnet No. 2

I tried to write a sonnet. I was quite proud of it, but it didn't win.


Engaged since birth against one deadly foe,

A mortal combat all must surely yield,

No clemency or kindness can we know,

No soul alive will leave this battlefield.


The lines of combat proudly crease my face,

My hair turns slowly, unabashed, to gray.

I must accept with honour and good grace,

to b...

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These Cages Aren’t Metaphors Anymore

A man loves freedom outside his own abode

Not quick to drink but virtues soon are lost

How fast luck moves! Escape though? ‘Twas so close

Pulled over, cuffed, he learned this liquor’s cost

Now should he leave this fearful site unscathed

He’ll prosper after papers set him free

The luck remained and helped him walk that day

Yet cells contained inmates in need of leave


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Starchild's Keeper- A Sonnet

Father Thunder cracked, Mother Thunder struck! 

through a cosmic tango, your divine birth!

And into a mad stellar chase I broke

begging to glow as your mirror on Earth...

I plunge into the ocean after dark,

and swim in this indigo-silver trance.

I relish in your splendor, hear the lark

his, a song of sorrow and jubilance.

though bittersweet it couldn't ever spoil

this ne...

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The Distinct Challenges of Hyperfocus

Straddling a life between town and country,

I remember you once stood on a snake.

You never saw it as we were shouting,

Until you moved and it slithered away.

Once you walked into a concrete column,

As I told you to hurry and catch up.

But you were focused and a little solemn,

Just searching for green anoles close up.

So many times you fell into a pond,

And I had to pull...

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In Memoriam

In Memoriam


The gravestones in this place are wet with tears

Of children, wives and husbands who have stood

Beside dark holes that swallow up their fears

Replacing ice water where once flowed blood.

November skies are grey and hold no lights,

The flowers flattened in a winter gale

That whips away dark thoughts the widow fights

To keep hidden behind her mourning veil.


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day 4NaPoMoWri 2019sad sonnetsadsonnetgrave yardremembrancegriefgrieving

Snow Fields

The soft blown snow that fell five days ago

Crisp frozen now by these five frosty nights

Still blankets all the fields and moors to show

Where pheasant clattered off on noisy flights

While footfall of the lesser birds is scribed

Less deep; and here a small bank vole has run;

There passed red fox and rabbit side by side

Though time kept them apart and saved the one

At the wo...

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We see them on the news most every night,

pontificating, make believe they’re wise.

Myself, I think they talk a load of shite!

Does anybody understand these guys?


They tell us what to do and how to feel,

persuading us they know what’s best for us;

that we should acquiesce and let them deal

with everything, and not create a fuss.


They stroke us like a pet they woul...

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The Invitation

a sonnet


That thou may'st happly spend your day

Fair maid amongst the northern hills

With books and study that will oft defray

Your time and thought in winter's chills;

That there is pleasure 'mongst your shelves

Oh lady in your cottage home

Tis proven by each and everyone who delves

In dusty library vaults to hunt a tome;

That thy bookish studies are good I swear


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Winter’s Bite

As evening’s chill descends to icy night,

A plaintive cry rings out a mournful tune

Through trees disguised in coats of wispy white,

To resonate ‘neath iridescent moon.


The heavens fade from blue to vibrant black,

And stars appear, to shimmer distantly,

Illuminating as the wolves attack

Their prey, despite despairing bids to flee.


Then silence shrouds the land and...

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I whispered the words I had come to say;
In humbleness I broke the deep silence,
Perfectly knowing the size and the weight
Of the questions, and of your prescience;
Having said what I came to say, I rose
With hardly a recalcitrant feeling,
Your wisdom is greater than mine I know,
Strictly righteous are all of your dealings.
How famed are your powers of cognizance,
They are sung all about,...

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And What Of The Children

And what of the children as yet unborn?

Who speaks out for them and will take their part?

As the world watches the hellbound handcart

Spiralling downwards with future stillborn.


When our great great grandfathers walked the land,

It should have been simple to chart a course

Keeping hold of hopes to husband resource,

But now supply is outstripped by demand.


So what ...

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Lukewarm Lover

Hold fast, my unwept tears; rest hard my heart,
he is not worthy of my devotion.
Raw attraction ensnared me at the start,
ardour an all-consuming emotion.
Lying in the aftermath of passion,
what is left to show of love? No caress?
It seems tenderness is out of fashion;
no warm embrace, no kiss to second guess.
His come to bed eyes, having had their way
now seem devoid of...

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Ice-Storm-Morning Sonnet


A sheet of ice on black pavement gleaming

As frost, settled on shrubs, illuminates

A white powder morning and activates

The sound of grass, underneath feet, crunching.

I with my twin brother wander, beaming

Along the path untouched, to what fascinates

The mind of two children and resonates,

Bridging the gap between awake and dreaming.

For brief moments the world was fr...

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ice stormnaturenostalgiasonnetsonnets

A Wee Dram

A Wee Dram

The dancing flames lick gently at the grate,
a bottle splashes amber to the glass,
soft chimes reminding that the hour is late,
aromas drift of peat and harsh deer grass,
the smoky mist of morning, with each pass.
The glow of bonfires as I gently kiss,
letting the rich swelling flavours amass
and burn upon my lips, no thoughts but this –
“how can something so bitter bring suc...

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spenserian sonnetsonnetwhiskyscottish whiskyheatwintergood cheer

The Prophet Of Amanga

I've published a new ebook, and you can get it for free at

It's the first part of a trilogy called God The Banana, an epic verse-novel written as a sequence of 437 sonnets. Here's the first one:


Picture a diamond spinning against the dark,
flinging back the brilliance of a sun.
Move a little closer - you’ll be stunned
how lakes and oceans ...

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It can be said that fate waits for no one

It is almost a certainty in fact


But darkness with its spring heels waits alone

In a recess seldom visited, we go there in shade

Curtained we go there and raise suspicion

We go when there is blood to sacrifice

We come back when there is left only bone


Like the needless prayers of a mother

We disappear in...

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Sonnet on Death

This is an ekphrasis on L'Agonie by Felicien Rops.



Sonnet on Death

Demons clutch at your rib-cage ladder

Grasping the arteries, choking your veins

Your bones are now fragile and ready to shatter

Oh dear, you're looking quite pale.

Your bloodless skin is as thin as paper

With cavities where worms slither in.

A struggling heart still resisting the Taker


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DeathFelicien RopsL'AgonieEkphrasissonnetnecrophilia

A Reimagining

Sonnets are meant to be about romance

and love.

You know? All that's good.

But why should form be contained,

can one not make love to the page

in their own expression?

I can,

and will.

Imagination like a dodgems car,

wild yet bumpy.

And I guess that's what love is,

you can try to steer in the right direction

but there will always be obstacl...

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Some folk are born with knowledge of their goal

Some folk are born with knowledge of their goal.
I've met them, though I'm not like that myself;
I'm wandering through life, a placid soul,
content to leave adventures on the shelf.
I've loved and lived without a way to know
the field where I should strive to be the best:
to pan for gold, or be a CEO,
or cure disease, or conquer Everest;
        and likewise, you're a Poohstick ...

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Among those born as humans on the earth

Among those born as humans on the earth
within their mind the mirrored planet lies:
the universe contained behind their eyes,
more tangible with every day since birth.
Within, each place you love is held for you
perfected; every friendship dwells therein;
and if you dare, a thousand tales begin,
and if you close your eyes you'll see it's true.
        Within that place a forest ...

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They say my future follows on your past,
commanded not to love you by the wise.
They say he never truly lives who lies
a captive still, and by your charms held fast:
your warmth was torn by chilly morning air,
through daytime heat your image in my eye
would ever grow, would wane, would never die,
and with the night, you’d once again be there.
       You took my life, and took aw...

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This moment, I am God upon this town.
I compass every window spread below:
each pinprick point in total looking down
a pattern only overseers know.
I feel the human flow and ebb each minute
perceiving both with every passing breath;
each lighted room has home and hoping in it,
each darkening a sleeping, or a death.
        And nothing, nothing makes it wait to darken;

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