Poetry Blog by Mark Niel

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M.C. Newberry on A Haiku: Political Correctness Gone Mad (Thu, 31 Jan 2013 07:20 pm)

Yvonne Brunton on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Sat, 26 Jan 2013 07:35 pm)

Harry O'Neill on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Sat, 26 Jan 2013 04:39 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Sat, 26 Jan 2013 03:02 pm)

Isobel on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Fri, 25 Jan 2013 07:10 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Fri, 25 Jan 2013 04:04 pm)

Mark Niel on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Fri, 25 Jan 2013 01:23 pm)

M.C. Newberry on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Fri, 25 Jan 2013 12:46 pm)

Harry O'Neill on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Thu, 24 Jan 2013 11:00 pm)

Mark Niel on The Girl on the Jubilee Line (Thu, 24 Jan 2013 11:46 am)

A Haiku: Political Correctness Gone Mad

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Streaker on the news.

Epileptics warned against

Flashing images.

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The Girl on the Jubilee Line

It’s too early on the Jubilee line

and too many stations until mine.

The high voltage jolt of caffeine

from two hours ago

has dissipated like

sunburnt mist.


A girl with caramel for skin sits opposite

losing her fight with wakefulness.

Eyes melt, head wavers

Like harvest-ready corn in the gentlest of breezes.

With hair corralled by an Alice Band


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Advice for Poetry Slammers

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Advice for Poetry Slammers
(With apologies to Rudyard Kipling)

If you can keep your scores when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you recall your words when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can bear to hear the poems you've spoken
Critiqued by snobs who scorn the common touch,
Or watch your strategy for three rounds broken...

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The Poet as Piñata

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I knew it was a bad idea. I was guilted into it because it was for “Charity”. Just how bad an idea it was only became apparent when I set foot on stage. For every second of my two minutes or so, a drunken, howling, baying mob heckled and jeered my every word.

 The “it” was a local version of Britain’s Got Talent (I know!); staged in a pub/night club at 10pm on a Sunday (I know!!) on the nig...

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The Loneliness of the Long Distance Poet

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In a crowded Kilburn pub

minutes before the gig,

the ache sneaked in.


I’m squirreled into a corner,

nested down, trying to order

scattered thoughts


into precise columns.

It isn’t working.

As I sip sparkling water


my eye is drawn outside by

a green Ford Focus

crawling across the window.


My spirit teleports home;


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Advice to Peter Andre on Marketing

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Peter Andre is launching a fragrance
To get over his marital crisis
He doesn't know what to call it-
My suggestion is "Priceless".

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This be the Verse..if Larkin's parents had given him more bedtime cuddles

They tuck you up, your mum and dad
They like to, and they do.
They fill you with all the love they had
And add some extra, just for you.

For they were tucked up in their turn
Wrapped up warm as a duffle coat,

And quickly given Tixilix

If tickles appeared in their tiny throat

Man hands on happiness to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
So be as tactile as you can,
And don't miss any hugs yoursel...

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A Career of Two Halves

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So Beckham is doing a timeshare

Playing for LA and Milan.

I think it’s a brilliant idea

Every player should follow his plan.


Wayne Rooney can timeshare with Watford,

Taste life outside the top flight.

Let’s see how flash his play is when

Away at Cardiff on a cold winter’s night.


Bring Ronaldo to Luton!

British football at it’s grass roots

And if, just once, he tried diving


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The Long, Slow Walk Home


Mists of time

fog my memory

but you

are still my beacon.


Though sometimes

I forget your name

I never forget

I love you

as I walk through

the ever-darkening forest


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The Drug Dealer and the Poet



I was talking to a drug dealer the other day,

(purely for research purposes you understand).


He said we had much in common.


“Like what”? I asked. 


Well for a start, “pot” is three quarters of “poet” and all the poets I ever met were at least three quarters gone the whole time.


A good point, well made, I felt. Albeit anecdotal in nature rather than based on firm data.



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Sade’s Boyfriend

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I popped into Lovejuice today

To grab a spot of lunch

I met Sade’s Boyfriend

Making the pulped fruit punch.


He's a Smoothie Operator

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God's Masterplan scuppered Limerick

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Adam and Eve lay down in the garden

When a part of him started to harden

Eve said “Not to be graphic,

All my urges are Sapphic

Please forgive me if I beg your pardon”.

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Truth is whispered during times apart.

Small stirrings of the soul ripples pangs

of comfort and agony, each

unsure which is dominant.


The sense of belonging

ironically, magnified in a vacuum.


The sky is higher in Africa.

Closing my eyes

I am carried on the breeze,

caressing your skin and

teasing your hair with my breath.


Open eyes finds me still

In England,


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Little Bo Peep 2008 Remix

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Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep

She looked all over the UK.

Then, (being industrious) traveled the world

Until she reached the U. S. of A.


She searched in all the fifty states

Came close in Texas, but found only cattle.

Finally gave up and moved to the West Coast,

Sheepless in Seattle.



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It started with the famous five,

Though I had no time for Dick,

Or Julian or Timmy the dog.

Ann and Georgina made me tick


Recently it’s Lara Croft

and Uma Thurman too,

as Beatrix Kiddo in Kill Bill

Volume one and two.


It’s become an obsession

Female stars of film and fiction.

I consulted a psychiatrist

For the name of my affliction.


He said “I’m sorry, I’m afraid you hav...

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Half Life Day

I had my first date with my (now) wife on Easter Monday, 1986. This was the 8,137th day of my life. 9 July, 2008 was 8,137 days on from that first date and point at which we had been together exactly half my life. This is the longest I have ever gone out with a girl!




Dark, dark and dark the night

As we walked, squeezing the last moments

From the weekend before work

Usurped our time.


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You lied about your age,

Your weight and your shoe size.

I found out too late

To halt our demise. 


Half truths and whoppers

Comprised your diction.

No facts, just fantasy

And falsehoods and fiction. 


This dress? Just ten pounds,

Bought in a sale.

If your nose was Pinocchio’s

It would run off the scale. 


You deceived and destroyed me

At every wrong turn.

Took walle...

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