Poetry Blog by Laura Taylor

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Laura Taylor on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 04:06 pm)

Don Matthews on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 03:26 pm)

Jason Bayliss on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 02:32 pm)

Stu Buck on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 02:25 pm)

Laura Taylor on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 02:16 pm)

Stu Buck on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 01:02 pm)

Laura Taylor on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 12:03 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 11:18 am)

Martin Elder on Frogs and Snails (Wed, 26 Jun 2019 10:28 am)

Jason Bayliss on Frogs and Snails (Tue, 25 Jun 2019 10:52 pm)

Frogs and Snails

 

If it was your son,

you’d want to know why,

wouldn’t you?

What was on his mind?

Could it be predicted?  

If he became the source of a statistic often quoted,

of a crime doubled up, year upon year,

I think you’d want to know.

Or would you veer away?

Never ask yourself why

he reacted in that way.

Did you raise your voice too often

in his formative years,

o...

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Manspreader Ha-cha-cha-cha

 

Hey Billy Big Balls,

spreading on the seat,

just how much space does one man need?

Did you buy two tickets,

one for each knee?

‘Cause they’re taking up the space that my legs need.      

 

Hey Billy Big Balls,

spreading on the train,

such a vast sack must cause great pain.

Have you been to the doctor,

or had them examined?

They shouldn’t be the size of a ca...

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Orison

 

Three days later,

we bought a Newton's cradle.

Put it on the table, and heartsick,

tried to click click click our way out of it.                 

But there's six strings missing,

a great big grin,

and a legendary faux fur coat.

 

There are two types of energy:

potential and kinetic.

One is energetic, inhabiting space.

One anticipates

velocity, force. It can...

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Beatitude

 

We may not light so many fires

but I'll be yours if you'll be mine.

Shallow eyes see lines and grooves

but I see wise and warm and weft,

there's plenty left.

I see proof of life.

 

Four score and twenty lie between

our bellies, bigger than before,

but soft and more for us to hold.

We fold together, tender in our wrinkled sheets,       

and I can see it in your...

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Genesis

 

Mata ignites in

forty six architect codes.

Creator of worlds.

 

Limbic tapestry

from organic memory.

Peppercorn echoes.

 

Inner symphonics

accompany quickening.

Network electric.

 

Inside to outside;

torn to transform in tandem.

We are become Life.

 

 

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Invasive

 

If I possessed a phone back then,

would it help or hinder?

They’re calling it ‘disclosure’.

Those men were ten years older.

They said it was a party,

I believed them.

Would the phone show “asking for it”,

“look at what she did and said,

dirty girls deserve to learn a lesson”?

 

If I had had a mobile phone,

would it show Authority that teenage promiscuity

is...

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Napowrimo 2019

Speaking in Tongues

 

They said   

too clever for your own good.

 

I heard

that it was not for me,

like olives and halloumi

 

and

must you question everything?

Unintended irony.

 

They own

the land and property.

 

I face

reduced mortality.

 

The politics of envy

is for the likes of me.

 

The politics of greed

are what I clearly see.

 

I learned

...

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Napowrimo 2019

To Winter

 

I understand your essence,

that you cannot help yourself,

that Gaia turned her face away from Sol.

Is it a gesture? A way to give her succour?

You let her have a song to sing

while I endure the tempest?                            

Fickle Winter, you do me a disservice.

 

Sometimes, you are beautiful and show me

tiny miracles of light, prismatic splashes,

a rainbo...

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Napowrimo 2019

Helicoid

 

I live beneath a spiral chain,

a silver flow, associating

ceaselessly.

The best of me, the worst of me

won’t let me sleep,

assaults what was my fontanelle,

hurling endless arrows,

silken whispers,

sometimes hammer blows.

Voracious, it would plait me      

in perpetual prolixity.

 

I struggled to untangle braids of lexicon,

loquacity; a glossolalic battle

...

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Napowrimo 2019

Divine Sight

 

Gentle as the lapping frill on Kilshannig shore,

between the strung out lonely poles conducting skylit power,

against the charcoal sketches lining distant Dingle ridges,       

among the oyster catchers and trot-trotting sanderlings:

unbridled silhouettes gaze on the Hogs of Magharee.

Sleek surprises, piebald, white, chestnut, skew and ebony.

Luxurious, they crop and nuzzle ...

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Napowrimo 2019

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...

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Napowrimo 2019

Immaterial

 

Because our blue-lit journey took us into A and E,

then obs on a proper ward,

I didn’t clear drawers containing sailor whites or flags.

It wasn’t me that sorted photographs,

twenty sets of dentures, broken glasses,

or all the empty bottles that he’d stashed beneath the bed.

Because I’d pleasepleasepleased to the hospital with you,

all I got to see were empty rooms.

 

...

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Napowrimo 2019

Proclivitas

 

I touched her mind and took her body

when she was just a child,

on summer days in hidden fields,

just me and her, alone.

Our little secret.

 

The first time, she was hesitant;

worried that she’d choke

or I would hurt her slender throat,

leave her aching and inflamed.  

She soon got used to it.

 

It wasn’t legal, but no one really cared

as much back then....

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Scopaesthesia

 

You never know

them. Not aware of their location.

Never seen their face before.

No idea where they’re stood/sat/knelt in relation to yourself.

But something’s boring into you,

invisibly.

 

You never know

who they are, what they do, if they’ve ever heard of you,

seen your face around town,

stalking or in love with who they think you might be

by the colour of yo...

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Atlas

 

Legacies live

within cheekbones,

sharp as darts,

freckled luminosity of skin

made alabaster in the womb; 

deep inside the crink of slice, hazelised,

laughing brightly under ginger ice frosting

of the hair gently falling from a head old

as the wild western shore.

 

I can see my roar reflected

in the crash of the Atlantic,

in the dashing rage of wave on wave

...

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Cycle Haiku

 

Never cast a clout

while the cherry blossom’s out;

wait for confetti.

 

“It’s cracking the flags”.

A black and white hosepipe ban;

moonlight sprays the lawn.

 

Fires in the fall.                                                           

Dead leaves to feed tomorrow,

daily bread for all.

 

Walking on thin ice,

I have promises to keep.

Season of goodwi...

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Triptych

 

Things That Make My Throat Close Over

 

The radio: Sibelius.  Finlandia: the cello dread and brass intent of poems written afterwards, to tumble back before she left, for me to hold the hand and turn the cogs of my salty dog, bereft. I cannot listen without echoes.

 

The unexpected note my lover leaves me on the table, which I only see when he is far away.

 

The Grapes of Wr...

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Buzzword Bingo

Monday morning meeting.

We are gathered here together

to cultivate ideas for performance-based incentives,

and the hot potato pay gap that we didn’t know existed

when we settled on the salaries.

Honest.

 

So let’s talk benefits, with which to touch base on;

construct a presentation by the close of play today.

This pathetic sex pay gap will be smeared

by the media tomo...

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NaPoMoWri 2019

The Gift

 

To have grown without the grain of hate.

To sleep and want to wake before the school day starts.

To finally believe in happy endings, and beginnings,

and later, to know that it wasn't my fault.

To not be the crop she raised from kernel

to a raging field of fire, taking

half a span and passing to extinguish.

To not walk wanting, or wounded through the stubble,

smoke lyi...

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Sustenance Rap

Snakes go ape for mice and rats.

Dogs eat dirt and snaffled snacks.

Mice adore a fragrant cheese.

Flu likes humans, hens and seals.

Bats eat beetles, moths, mosquitoes.

Bees are nuts for nectar.

Rabbits gorge on grass and bran,

and dandelion dinners.

Maggots love marshmallows.

Dust mites munch on pillows.

Streptococcus hungers after meat or milk or fish.

Necrotizin...

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NaPoMoWri 2019

Song Sung Blue

 

Well I remember every little thing

as if it happened only yesterday

Parking by the lake and there was not another car in sight

And I never had a girl

Looking any better than you did

Remembering the first time, your pinstripe suit and Oxford knot, Dr Martens,

five foot two, and Paradise by the Dashboard Light, bellowed over tables stained

with too much wine at daft o’cloc...

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Napowrimo 2019

Incomplete

 

The years went blind.

I slumbered in a cage

containing recipes for melodies,

bent to bathe in plastic-wrapped

shiny-shoe approval.

A matte black horizon,

made bearable by you.

 

I decorated top-to-toe,

re-arranged the furniture so often

that a trip down to the toilet

was a broken bone in waiting.

Someone said it was symbolic

of a disconnected essence,   

...

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Napowrimo 2019

Once Upon a Time

 

On Sliabh Mis mountain, Foley’s Glen,

the Widow Scotia lies in wait;

incantations meld with mist

and twist in curl and bloom of cloud,

avowed to wreak revenge

on Celtic kings.                                                                                                              

 

Four hundred years before Our Lord,

belly-heavy, battle-torn,

the Pharaoh’s daug...

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Napowrimo 2019

Call and Response

 

If it was your son,

you’d want to know why.

Wouldn't you?

What was on his mind?

Could it be predicted?  

If he became the source of a statistic often quoted,

I think you’d want to know.

 

Or would you veer away?

Never ask yourself why

he reacted in that way.

Was it deliberate?

A choice?

Did you raise your voice too often

in his formative years,

or ...

Read and leave comments (4)

Napowrimo 2019

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