Poetry Blog by Colin Hill

as if from water cannons at a riot

 

and the rain came down as if from water cannons at a riot
the view through the car window warping and running
impossible to read the words on the parking lot sign
no chance I was stepping out into that Biblical deluge



Florida or not I was staying put inside my tin can on wheels
thinking on where I had come from and where I was heading
where to lay my head that night and with what to fill ...

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Woke up

 

Woke up, it was a Zappa morning
and the first thing that I heard
was a song inside my windows
from the mofo of inventions
he came a-steaming up like freight train bells
and sang these words to me

 

Oh, that's alright folks
We'll not touch this daylight dial
And we'll curse it 'till the night comes

 

Woke up, it was a Mitchell morning
and the first thing that I heard
was the c...

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a bit of light relief

 

for a bit of light relief
we head for our sheds
and stare at bare walls
dotted now with drawing pins
where pictures of pretty ladies
have been torn down
and burned on the bonfires
of our vanities

 

 

words ©Colin Hill 2018

 

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birds, bees, badgers and trees

 

the mistlethrush trees
line the fields
are poplar
with the birds and bees

and badgers steel
the nuts and seeds
that fell from feeders
in the breeze

rowan, ash and hazel three
are coloured like a potpourri
with berries, acorns, witches wands
the magic spells of woodland songs

 

 

words ©Colin Hill 2018

 

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Wasted Words

entry picture

 

remember
when you delete your poetry
it ends up breaking down into micropoetry
which in turn breaks down into waste words & letters that pollute the literary environment

 

so remember please
every word is sacred
even in haiku

 

and broken words can be fixed
like people having breakdowns

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnT5yHcjq90

 

words ©Colin Hill 2018

 

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forgetfulness

 

we can remember
lest we forget
and how could we forget?
but in all the looking back
we forget to look forward
or even take sideways glances
and it's oh so easy to turn a blind eye
to all that goes on in faraway places
for there are many today

who are too readily forgotten
let's not forget them either

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxhNRs-j6b4

 

words ©Colin Hill 2018

...

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minute by minute

entry picture

poem for the 2018
RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch

27th - 29th January
 

 

 

 

available here:

https://slideaways.wordpress.com/2018/01/27/minute-by-minute/

and here's how to take part:

https://www.rspb.org.uk/get-involved/activities/birdwatch/?channel=paidsearch&gclid=CjwKCAiA47DTBRAUEiwA4luU2c9gFxBni0vbHypxXrVuY4yFCuroNVWrodC4uUdL3z8uuG1JJWhP4hoCwVAQAvD_BwE

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Carrot and Stick Haiku

entry picture

 

Tilting at windmills
Donkey's oats were carrot sticks
Leading me onwards

 

https://media1.tenor.com/images/a19769900111c1064a9c6c7a8cbb64d0/tenor.gif?itemid=10757250

words ©Colin Hill 2018
Carotte GIF by tenor.com

 

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The King is Dead

 

my mother came screaming from out the kitchen
her eyes ablaze with the flames of tumbleweeds on fire
right down the steps she ran with open arms outstretched to me
the familiar smell of hairspray mixed with chillies and sweat
television news flashes flickered wildly through the blinds

 

I was seventeen years old as I stood witness in that dusty yard
the sunset a burning ball balanced...

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these 'things'

 

I place these 'things' within me
not for any healthy purpose you understand
and mostly unintentionally 
but in they go to find a way
to make a home in some dark nook 
or cavernous cranny

 

stay as mini-migraines why not
or boiling lava lakes within my gut
yes it's up to me to sort them out
to shout them down and diminish
their potential to wreak havoc
but it doesn't always work ...

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Mother fed us plastic today

 

Mother fed us plastic today
cut up into bite-sized pieces
she mixed it with some fish
to make the dish go further
because times were hard
since Father had drowned
the squall that took him under
one wild and windy day
left us but a single parent family
adrift on the gyre of uncertain seas

 

 

words ©Colin Hill 2018

 

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victims of fashion


the fashion trend of skinny jeans
makes no sense for overweight teens

except perhaps to mock and remind
what fun our youth have left behind

and now their futures can be seen 
through portals of smartphone screens

a flock of sheep following fake dreams
everything today is what it seems

the party's over, the songs all sung
a bitter taste to coat the tongue

with debt, pollution, global warm...

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literaturicide

 

on a boat 
in a drunken rage
cursing waves
my enemies
my friends
I is another
I is someone else
we holler
we list together
in empty peals
death knells chime
freezing sails
I is another
I is someone else
now sung in sleep
estranged we are
fore and aft
mizzen jiggered
spirits flown
I is another
I is someone else
with flailing arms
below to sink 
the silent curse
that is to be
to be...

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Me Realisto

 

we see your pictures, the ones you post
in groups or themes like memory banks
the naked women with guns and dogs
erotic, quixotic, hypnotic, far fetched
the blow your brains out faked up gifs
the bra strap snapping tattooed breasts
and all the while you hide behind your
anonymous mask - a devil, a deviant
a twister of truths who tells it like it is
the way we see the world through a ...

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On Mending a Broken Morphy Richards Bread Making Machine or The Importance of Order on the Assembly Line

 

I am determined to reassemble 
each and every last component
despite the slight misalignment
of the inner metal casing
which delays the completion
of this most intricate of repair jobs
for which I did not possess
the requisite tools.

On the assembly line
order is of the utmost importance
the workstation neatly arrayed
with plastic boxes full of screws and things
the worker attired...

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untitled

 

what you read
and what you hear
is not always true
or not always clear

 

what you think
and what you learn
is seldom bought
or seldom earned

what you want
and what you see
is not all of you
or not all of me

 

what we shared 
and at what cost
is not our fault
has not been lost

 

words ©Colin Hill 2018

 

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forgivenessfriendshipunderstanding

we kissed

 

we kissed in the red phone box
until our teenage lips were sore
and in your mother’s unmade bed
her hippy mattress on the floor

 

we kissed in the silent church yard
amongst the souls who died at war
and holding hands at nightfall
by these glowing moonlit shores

 

we kissed in the uncut wheat field
under golden rays outdoors
and at the party of a mutual friend
we yearned for ...

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Winter Holidays


turning circles 
we tumbled laughing
watched Crossley's men
sail out on ice yachts
their reddish-brown sails
incongruous 
like butterfly wings
flapping in the frigid air

 

this snow clad
wedding cake landscape
of valleys and fells
high topped mountains 
a whitened backdrop
to cut glass lines 
here on our beloved lake
the Lake of the North

 

its deep dark waters
beneath our s...

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landscapes II

what do you see in your landscape?
under the browns and greens and
brick and stone?
the people mining?
the underwater rivers carrying off the dead?
tunnels, caverns? 
echoing chambers?
choirs of burrowing worms
clambering and clawing between the rocks
and soil?

it's dark isn’t it?

rain trickles down through the cracks
forming invisible waterfalls
some as thin as threads of mycorrhizal...

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Crombies

 

we used to buy for pennies
old Crombie overcoats
from church jumble sales
with smooth 'n' silky linings
and boy did they look good
and boy did they feel good
over our ripped jeans
and safety pinned shirts
with laced-up boots 
and dyed mohicans
we brought the past back to life
with a pogo and a shout
and we placed our lives
in those warm deep pockets
in mostly small change
and M...

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attic space

 

the attic space
is a crawling space

 

with spider nest homes
and house fly homes

 

there are empty boxes
filled up boxes

 

of odds and ends
that never end

 

some carpet pieces
lost jigsaw pieces

 

kids toys for the next
generations

 

keepsakes from the past
generations

 

why am I here?
well that’s not so clear

 

I see the time has flown
the bulb has bl...

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#amwriting

 

write a poem ✍️
come back to it
leave it a bit longer ⏰
sleep on it 
😫
read and tweak
fiddle with it 🎻
double check and spellcheck
reformat 
ᴉʇ
 😕
shorten the lines
l  e  n  g  t  h  e  n    i  t
add some italics
get bold with it
feeling quite happy 
😃
underline it
spots a repeated word
oh f*** it !! 😭

 

words ©Colin Hill 2017

 

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amwriting

Haiku Hike

entry picture

 

out hiking today

this trowel pointed the way

cementing my route

 

 

 

 

 

words and pictures ©Colin Hill 2017

 

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into the arterial flow

entry picture

 

into the arterial flow
we inject ourselves daily

 

a travels to b’s zone
and b travels to a’s

 

conduits become congested
coughing and spluttering

 

we swap our places
me to you to you to me

 

and is it any wonder
productivity suffers

 

when we are all on the move
never settled in body or spirit

 

imagine if you will
a world devoid of hurly-burly

 

where sun...

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at the sink

 

She’s at the sink pointing her finger at me
half turned away from the pile of dirty dishes
white camisole over rainbow striped panties

 

She’s looking down the barrel of her arm
aware that I’m staring at her bum and thighs
smell of bacon fat congealing under the grill

 

She’s not smiling with either mouth or eyes
dark roots shadow her bleached blonde hair
static pupils beneath e...

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