Poetry Blog by Graham Parker and his musings

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Graham Parker on Cultus Decorum (5 days ago)

Martin Elder on Cultus Decorum (6 days ago)

Graham Parker on On her mother's step (Thu, 9 May 2019 09:12 am)

Jason Bayliss on On her mother's step (Wed, 8 May 2019 11:51 pm)

Graham Parker on On her mother's step (Wed, 8 May 2019 10:38 pm)

Graham Parker on 15 minutes of Sonnet 25 (Mon, 29 Apr 2019 09:46 am)

Martin Elder on 15 minutes of Sonnet 25 (Sun, 28 Apr 2019 03:41 pm)

Graham Parker on 15 minutes of Sonnet 25 (Sat, 27 Apr 2019 08:55 am)

Graham Parker on Doors (Fri, 26 Apr 2019 05:41 pm)

Graham Parker on Doors (Fri, 26 Apr 2019 10:39 am)

Sulphur Flame 2

What did she wear that night, what was her name?

He retraces his steps to that place

The place where she waited – for him

He can still feel the cool iron rails slipping through his fingers

The warm summer night’s air on the back of his hand

He remembers being calm, very calm

But for a sense of tension rising, from inside

He stopped, almost at the top of the steps

She stood,...

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Cultus Decorum

The bladder alarm rings, it’s time to go

No platted legs will dam this river flow

Locate the door, and start to walk

This is when we cease to talk

 

Brace yourself, we are going in

Assume bland face, we must not grin

Place hand on wood and push the door

And hope no one’s pissed on the floor

 

Cabin or trough, that is the choice

Are you man or mouse? begs your inner...

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hygienementoilet

Divide and conquer

Lines that tie us, lines drawn, lines before us,

Dark nights, dark days, conscience twisted, tested

No words spoke, no hard choke, you’d missed the bus

I said yes; the easy choice would have festered

 

Blood, water, which to choose, which my anchor?

Turn you away, and say nay, me your son?

You gave me life; it eats me this anger

Off you stride, toward divide, bread to be wo...

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Sulphur Flame

He can't remember what she wore that night, or her name

But he can retrace every step he climbed to where he knew she waited,

The stipples on the cool iron rails sliding through his hand on that warm summer eve

No hint of sweat in his palms as he approached, relaxed, calm, sensing rising tension

 

He stopped, almost at the top of the steps

There she stood, his invocation, his inv...

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On her mother's step

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On her mother’s stone step, she sits and dreams

The same step she cleaned and crossed so often

Her dress, crisp and clean in the sunshine gleams

This backstreet beauty, rare rose in blossom

 

What whims flicker through her wandering mind

Perchance what prospect does life hold in store

Will her journey be gentle not unkind?

Shall her story be one of less not more?

 

In...

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ageingchildhooddreams

Dark Mystery

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He can't remember what she wore that night, or her name

But he can retrace every step he climbed to where he knew she waited,

The stipples on the cool iron rails sliding through his hand on that warm summer eve

No hint of sweat in his palms as he approached, relaxed, calm, sensing rising tension

 

He stopped, almost at the top of the steps

There she stood, his invocation, his inv...

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Insignificance

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There were so many

So, so many, too many to count

None of them did count

Discarded with equal disdain to distant craving

Once they were wanted

Now they were less than rubbish

 

Soiled and used up

Like many that had used them

Now, no one cherished them

Destined not even to be brushed aside

Caught in a state of limbo

Between detritus and gutter trash

 

They ...

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15 minutes of Sonnet 25

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It’s not love they play it’s another game

Where what matters is who can count the most

Playing duck and dive, surfers search for fame

Notching names upon digital bedposts

 

Their followers adore them with their likes

Each character praised as if from God

If their own petard hoists them onto spikes

Then surely, it’s the crowd that has turned odd.

 

Their ledger marking...

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friendsNaPoWriMonapowrimo2019ShakespearesonnetsTwitter

Doors

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And all the doors looked all the same again

He stopped at number one to sneak a look

Here he heard the clearing of ash and soot

 

And all the doors looked all the same, again

He stopped, at number four he stood once more

To inhale the smell of Vim on tiled floor

 

And, all the doors looked all the same, again

He stopped at number nine, to check the time

The cuckoo clo...

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Childhood memoriesNapowrimo 2019

Most Maligned

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You may be the one that darkness calls friend

The bringer of gloom, who draws curtains on the room

But to me, you are both beginning and end

 

You close the door on Autumn’s warm glow

Make coats button up tight, as you turn down the lights

And freeze dew drops wherever you stroll

 

They say you give us so few reasons to cheer

Put no food on the table, work and schools yo...

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Quote Unquote

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We were challenged to write a poem inspired by two randlmly chosenpages in a dictionary, thesairaus or encyclopedic book. This is my offering

 

The light grows from his bedside lamp, illuminating hitherto unseen leaves of Humorous Quotations.

He pores through dry pages of politicians' dry political thoughts

Seeking inspiration from giants of history

 

Is this all they left behind...

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Bears

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Bears, bears, bears!

There were bears everywhere

Now he saw them, all those bears throughout his years.

 

The Panda Bear.

She would come out and stare, and stare.

Blinking ringed black eyes against the rare glimpsed sky.

 

Serene and sober

Conversely troubled but not in a rage

She'd think for a minute, slowly turn, then go back to her cage.

 

The Grizzly Bear.

...

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Bears. dreamsmemoriessurrealism

But for you

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But for you

I would not be alone

 

But for you

There would have been one more at home

 

But for you

The unknowing would not feel so cold

 

But for you

I’d feel more joy in growing old

 

But for you

My mind might be at rest

 

But for you

Life may have been less of a test

 

But for you

A single race I have run

 

But for you

I can plac...

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griefmissing someonesorrowTwins

Fleeting persistence

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She was the one constant throughout his life

His endless reference to existence

From infancy she reflected him back at him

She was his world, the very reason he lived

 

She gave birth to him, ejaculating him into the air

For the first time he felt separation from her wet womb

But their connection was permanent

She was as much he, as he was him

 

Her brilliance dazzled...

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LoveMayflyNatureSpring

House

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A litany of memories litters the rooms, the halls and walls

Here, books in loose piles are stacked from ceiling to floor

The silence is all pervading, nothing looks like it has been moved for years

And yet there is no dust, all seems clean; too clean

 

The rocking horse sits motionless and still, bereft of a grandchild rider

It glances idly into one of the four unused bathrooms, ...

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Watering Can

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It sits on the kitchen window cill

Of the seventh house we have called home

 

It reminds me of its owner

 

And of the nurturing she bestowed

 

It’s nothing much to look at

A watering can and tiny garden tools

 

In a charity shop it would be overlooked

But in my heart, it’s a chest of jewels

 

It really is quite useless

It’s porous with no holes in the spou...

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Borders

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There were borders everywhere

Borders of water, of steel, of brick, of money and of mind

Borders that were meant for defining, for declaring lines you and others could not cross

 

Over the sandstone brick wall, across the railway line lived the park people

Snotty, scabby looking folk – they feared to tread on our turf; most did

They had the club and the park, we invaded them at w...

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bordersChildhood

Walk on part

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He was a bit-part actor, he never dreamt of commanding his stage

He signed on as a walk-on character, a cameo role in a one-off play,

Each night he learnt his lines, the same words he would speak every day

Rehearsing his part word-perfect, in the hope that his public would pay

 

No one spelled out his name in neon, the only stars he knew were in the night sky

His costume was neve...

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Homelessnessracismtheatre

Tribute

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I wrote this two years ago, long before the Windrush scandal hit the headlines.

 

When them set sail on Empire Windrush

Them leave behind sun, sea and sand

Yes, them set forth upon Windrush,

Them a tropical collection of hands,

When all them set foot on Windrush;

Next stop, the promised Motherland

 

So, them all on board Empire Windrush

All four hundred and ninety-two...

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imperialismracismunityWindrush

Born in the shadow of a mountain

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When you’re born in the shadow of a mountain

You know the warmth of the darkest of shade

You know nothing will ever rise above that mountain

In whose image and shadow you were made

 

When cast in the shadow of a mountain

Your caste can feel defined before birth

Your path may seem predestined and written

As your feet struggle to impress in the earth

 

But there’s a com...

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childhoodFatherssons

Black Confetti

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Blackened balls of confetti thrown against a slate sky

From left, from right, lines and angles they fly

Boiling clouds shuffle, sculp then conform

In kaleidoscopic monochrome; is this the start of a storm?

 

The mass absorbs and swells like translucent dough

An invisible baker, kneads, stretches and throws

And the amorphous miasma continues to grow

As eyes in wonderment gaz...

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Birdswildlife

Caledonian Secrets

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She’s a mistress that hides her secrets under fret

A flash of Victorian ankle maybe all that you receive

Her true joys often hidden beneath dreich petticoats

She’s the master of mystery, of guile and disguise

 

The tales she tells echo round the glens

Off barren croft walls and empty harbours

Her booming, brooding silence hides voices

Lost on the winds of time, home, yet no...

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languageScotlandweather

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