Poetry Blog by Mark Mr T Thompson

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Mark Mr T Thompson on NPD (Fri, 2 Oct 2020 09:27 am)

Greg Freeman on Seed of the fruit (Sat, 29 Aug 2020 08:47 am)

Do.RoThy on My absent companion (Thu, 13 Feb 2020 10:11 am)

kimberly on My absent companion (Thu, 13 Feb 2020 06:24 am)

Mark Mr T Thompson on Mind the Gaps (Sun, 16 Dec 2018 08:20 pm)

Big Sal on Mind the Gaps (Sun, 16 Dec 2018 12:14 pm)

Mark Mr T Thompson on Before the dawn (Sat, 15 Dec 2018 11:24 pm)

Mae Foreman on Before the dawn (Fri, 5 Oct 2018 10:59 pm)

Taylor Crowshaw on Before the dawn (Thu, 4 Oct 2018 01:03 pm)

Mark Mr T Thompson on Where Poetry Is Found (Sun, 9 Sep 2018 08:41 am)

Seed of the fruit

What if these once shivering timbers could talk

Tell tales about those who once walked between them.

The scenes they’d not so much seen 

As absorbed with the salt of the spray

And the tears, shed in the triangular trade 

in which so many souls were bought

And sold, young and old alike, back in the days

When the darker fruit of the tree of humanity

Were just another commodit...

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My absent companion

My absent comrade


A fickle and inconstant friend,

of whom I rarely see enough.

It’s within you my dreams reside

but without you, I feel rough.


You’re absent when I need you most,

then sneak up on me, unexpected.

Can’t you see, you’re broken and disjointed

when I need you to be connected?


But if we weren’t to meet again

I doubt that I could I cope.

I ...

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extended metaphorinsomniainsomniacmetaphorSleepsleep deprivation

Why I went back

entry picture

Why I went back 

A posthumous poem in the voice of Walter Tull – 28.04.1888 to 25.03.1918


Until you’ve been under fire

hunkered down in some funk hole

you’ll never know terror, the horror

or the damage to the soul

that just one barrage can do,

before you ever hear the whistle’s blast

that, sadly it’s true

for all too many,

signals this’ll be your last.


So, ...

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ArmyBiographicalbiographyblack BritishBlack HistoryBritish ArmyBritish HistorycharacterFact BasedFootballFootballerIbroxNorthampton TownSoldierSpursThe horror of warThe SommeThe trenchestrenchesTrue StoryWalter TullwarWorld Warww1

Drowning in the Drought

Drowning in the Drought


At times I drip with poetry

The words simply pour out of me

A flow it seems no dam could ever stop


Until, I’m drowning in the drought

A flood of tears and mere self-doubt

That withers, in the barn, my finest crop.



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droughtfloodpoempoetrywriters block

Take a minute


One Minute
Just take one minute
to listen
to remember
to understand
to reset,
to step back
to refocus
to rewind
to regret.

Just take one minute
to rest
to rebalance
to breathe
to cry,
to think
to question
to reflect
to wonder why.

Just take one minute,
then, if you can,
take one minute more;
to work out what you need,
to decide just what this minute’s for.

If you keep ...

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