Poetry Blog by Ann Foxglove (2009)

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basque

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you make me want to buy a basque

to be wasp waisted

I linger by the lingerie

I need to get a negligee

and mules!

pink fluffy slip-on ones

to go with my painted toes!

and seven push-up bras

underwired and lacy

one for every day of the week

and all quite racy!

and perfume

a bucket load of perfume.

so we can drown together

in scent

and lace

and my cleavage!

 

 

 

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My Nagual is a Narwhal

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Slither wallow slither wallow

Slumping out from under.

The midnight narwhal grunts and fumbles

Looking for the sea.

Leaving me, a husk, to slumber.

Rolling, bowling, down the hill

With scent of sea salt teasing his blow hole.

Flipper flapper flipper flapper

The domed forehead quests forth

And out front, the spiralling twisty horn

Eight feet long

And worthy of a unicorn!

As I wait slee...

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walking the coastal path with a pair of nail scissors

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I'm off to walk the coastal path

my rucksack is so heavy that

I have to go indoors, unpack

and start again.

 

Take out those sandals.

I need boots

only boots will do

for grinding my way

up all those hills.

 

Don't need my hairbrush

the wind will do the job

don't need a flannel when

there's rain.

 

Don't need a book

too much to see and do

and think about each nigh...

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Apricot Man

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I feel sorry for apricot man.

He sits and smiles.

He thinks everyone likes him.

But they don’t.

The opening of a shopping centre,

they’re turning on the Christmas lights

and he is there.

Apricot man

in the apricot limelight.

With his apricot hair.

Maybe a skating rink

set up for the festive season.

And there he is, incongruous

in anorak and skates -

falling over.

Poor old apricot...

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HAPPY CHRISTMAS

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hope you all have a lovely christmas

 

 

 

 

 

 

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solstice day

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Each year this day we meet upon the hill

sometimes it’s planned, and sometimes not.

And each brings some small thing to share

a piece of last years home made Christmas cake,

dark Fairtrade chocolate and a drink of mead,

too sweet for some,

and Sam won’t drink it

cos it is the produce of a bee.

And we all hug each other and rejoice

and remember people gone,

...

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a different sort of person

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If I was a different sort of person
I’d live at the racy end of town.
I’d always have my front door open
And I’d often have my knickers down.
Everyone would stop me when they saw me
and I’d know them all by their first name
and if I didn’t they would call me “darling”
they’d all flock around me just the same.
In noonday sun I’d sit upon my doorstep
close my eyes and puffing on...

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mementoes

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A crucifix on a silver chain

blackened by soil.

A golden locket

shiny new

a memory

a gift perhaps.

Tumbled together

in the earth

and found

today.

All souvenirs of love

gone bad.

I see the photos

on the news of girls

in their sweet youth,

a schoolgirl neat

or a wild child

but all in innocence

and purity.

And all lost.

All loved.

but lost.

A life

is missed out.

Gone.

Why i...

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something\\'s lost

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sometimes surviving is the hardest part

you live alone

you heal your heart.

 

but something's lost.

 

you carry on,

it looks the same.

from the outside.

 

you are so strong.

 

things are going right.

 

but something's lost.

 

 

 

 

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never look a Trojan gift horse in the mouth

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I heard the voices in the street

I looked out of my window neat

Dragging the curtains open wide

Couldn’t believe the sight outside

A great big horse, enormous, stood

And made completely out of wood.

 

A rough old beast, clapboard and nails

With mops for mane, a sheet for tail

Of wooden crates and pallets built.

I rushed to hide under my quilt!

The nei...

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1 user on line

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It’s 4 a.m. and there’s only one user on line.

Can’t sleep.

Put the computer on.

Log in.

Only me.

Look at the latest bloggs

maybe make a comment

check out the discussion page.

There’s nothing new.

No emails so no comments on my poems.

Bit bored now - dare I post another one?

Just for something to do?

The little box at the top of the page

...

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Sacred Well

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I remember I remember

Oh so many moons gone by

Centre stage, worshipped, beloved

A path worn to my foot of stone.

And flowers strewn.

 

Silent wise men drifted to me

Scattered seeds

In sacred query

Cast their runes

To get my answer

Read the entrails of a lamb.

Just to ask me who I am.

 

Blushing maidens shyly seeking

Lover’s name, who’ll be their partner

Drop pins in the well b...

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the lost glove

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See it lying in the mud.

A red glove.

 

Empty of the hand -

a slender one.

Fingers outstretched in search of love.

The red glove.

 

Scarlet leather

hand stitched

lost

down a muddy lane.

The red glove.

 

Red as the heart

the true heart of love.

The red glove.

 

A lover’s gift

a lovers tiff

running back in darkness

dropped her glove.

Red glove.

 

Frost falls.

Glove in froz...

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my cat's audrey hepburn

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My son and I were talking,

as you do,

a silly conversation

just for fun.

About my black cat

now so old and small

but still quite sweet and pretty

just the same.

“If Gemma was a film star

who’d she be?”

and we both answered

simultaneously

“Audrey Hepburn.”

How spooky!

 

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on walking past our old house at christmas

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I stand, a ghost outside the house that was our home.

A lonely spy, I see inside because the lights are on.

A cosy glow, a radiance I find hard to see

now we’re not there, a home no more for you and me.

 

The new folk there, I hope they have a happy time.

Its Christmas soon, and cards are hanging on a line

above the hearth, and there’s a tree with lights.

I stand outside, I shiver in th...

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my mum

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a gentle creature, easily overlooked

as a wild flower in a hedgerow,

a small brown bird in woodland,

overshadowed then, but remembered now

with such fondness.

childhood memories centred on my dad.

his workshop was an adventure where I could

hammer nails into bits of wood,

or the trips to his allotment where bonfires

were rendered explosive with old cans of ...

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Bereavement

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I’m on a hill
in a high gale.
A concrete box
my prison cell.
A raging storm
a screaming woman
all alone.

The wind’s a razor
I howl.
I have invented grief.
It’s mine
I own it.

Down you get
you interlopers!
You know nothing!
All of pain is mine!
All the pain in the world
is mine!
It belongs to me.

I rise up.
The wind buffets me
I soar away on grief.
The world looks very small.
Nothing to me!
I inhabit a region
of wind...

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The Hospital

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The hospital is surrounded by a cordon of bright love

you can almost see it rising in the air

like vapour.

The hospital, a concrete sepulchre to love -

to trying, and to hope.

Outside a woman on her mobile phone

passes on the news.

Perhaps a baby has been born - or someone’s died.

Another rushes by with reddened eyes and bitten lip.

A group in dressing gowns...

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Nightmare of the Dancing Cats

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Last night when I got into bed

and on the pillow laid my head

as soon as I did close my eyes

I got a rather bad surprise

for everywhere I seemed to see

dancing cats staring at me.

Blue cats, green cats, orange, red

all purr-parading round my bed

with beetle brows and tails like zeds

with scratchy claws and pointy heads.

The sand dance was what they liked best

their...

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love like foxes

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let us love like foxes love

screeching in the night

let us love like foxes love

hiding from moonlight

they are locked together

in their act of love

with love’s arrows pinned together

coupling foxes cannot move

if man fox rips from woman fox

he might tear out her heart

let us love like foxes love

crying in the dark

don’t interrupt the foxes

in their desperate love play

let us love l...

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South with Endurance

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We’re all heading south with endurance.

We must do it with goodness and grace.

Our huskies are straining

the snowdrifts are deep.

Crevasses gape open

together we leap.

We’re all heading south with endurance.

 

Sometimes our barque gets

seized up in the ice and

we’re stuck and we’re frozen and cold.

We need a hero to take that big chance

to be valiant, decisive and bold.

But we have ...

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at the opticians

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On all the walls are posters showing hearing aids

like pink sugar mice.

I sit and wait.

A girl takes me into a darkened room

and places my chin and forehead in

a kind of scold’s bridle.

A puff of air into each eye.

Puff! Puff! It makes me jump!

We laugh.

Funny spots dance before my eyes

things flash and letters blur.

It’s done.

No problems, it’s all fine.

And so I sit and wait again...

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eyelash

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I had a little book

a secret book of poems about you.

Silly poems maybe

in a secret book.

One day, opening the book

I found an eyelash

black as black

between the pages

like a sweet pressed flower.

Did you find my book?

Did you take a look?

 

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Swimming Away

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The saddest sight you'll ever see is a ship sinking.

All grandeur gone, she falls upon her nose and amid a flurry of water and bubbles she slides from view.

I've never seen it happen, only on a screen.

But I'm told the ship lets out a huge groan as she goes down.

If you're near the ship you might go too.

Sucked down with her, as if you'd never been.

So swim away.

The dead are like shi...

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Having a poem

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Having a poem….

 

The first ones just popped out

Easy as peas from a pod.

Like bonny bouncing babies they arrived -

My poems.

Full of life, shiny and new

Gurgling away or confidently screaming

“me me me”

“listen to me!”

 

The next litter of poems

Didn’t come so easily -

They had to be induced!

And when they had arrived

They were quite shy.

Would they be good enough?

Some of the...

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With apologies to . . just about everyone

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Do not go gentle into middle age

don't be like William's robin in a cage

stay boisterous, putting heaven in a rage

don't have a perm, watch bargain hunt and don't wear beige.

Please don't compare me to a summer's day

it's winter now, I'll soon be on my way.

The gales are blowing and the lightning's bright.

Rebellious, I'll go walking into this bad night.

Heaven may not have anything to sho...

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