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That Tomorrow

Global warming

Ozone breakdown

Melting ice

Animal extinction

Islands lost to sea

Tsunami

Shifting plates

Lava flow

That tomorrow’s today away

That tomorrow’s today away

 

A child is born

Cry of uncertainty

Tear in mother’s eye

Searing heat

Unforgiving wind

Fly’s swarm

No rain, only pain

Crops fail, again

No food, no milk

Infant die

That tomorrow’s today away

That tomorrow’...

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You must find another

I hate what I am doing to you,

trying to get you to hate me.

A map continues to elude my grasp,

bringing us to the same yearned for moment in time.

What I am going to say rips my still beating heart from my chest.

All air is driven from my lungs, through my lips, as they part, saying,

“You should leave me, find another!”

I feel so depressed and low saying that,

knowing my thoughts have now...

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To write a poem!

Oh, to write words that may contemporise,

creating living imagery behind reader’s eyes.

To make spirits rise, rise past the eagles lair,

lingering in anticipation, hovering, just there.

Then with syllable, rhyme and hunters vision

dive, dive, dive on pray, gorged on indecision.

Armed with the skills of a milliner and seamstress

create a tailored pictorial order, a literary buttress,

wil...

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Blue Hands

Blue hands clapped wildly, as if

applauding the opening night

of a new hit Broadway musical show,

trying to sting them back to life.

Millions of feet puncture holes

in the virgin snow on a New York winters morn,

like a magnificent herd of wilder beast,   

stampeding across the open savannah

of a Central Park, bathed by a fading neon moon.

A few blocks away a xylophone of icicles

cascad...

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Lip-sync, lip-sunk

 

My lips and voice-box had a fall out,

last Tuesday week,

on route to a verbal deliverance.

Sounds plucked on vocal cords,

swerved, uncontrollably,

like lemmings on space-hoppers

down flooded ‘Cavity Canyons’.

Some crashed into remains of ‘Road Kill’,

festering between chewing sites

filled in by a fusion of silver and decay.

The lemmings that made it,

cascaded down ‘Phlegm Falls’

i...

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The Grip of ‘Midnight’s’ Glove

 

 

Like that little child, sat scared and alone in the corner,

so sits a single naked flame, a defiant gesture,

against the grip of ‘Midnight’s’ glove.

 

Litter caught in the net of a rippling breeze,

linked together in a badly choreographed dance,

flame sticks out its tongue, licking paper.

 

Fuelled, the ‘Fire Rose’ reaches out, revealing surrounds,

with tiny orange and yellow ever...

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Bring on the Fusion

 

The thunder of the street; the rhythm of the heart

Where should help begin?

What's the communities' part?

Money comes in; some wanted and some unplanned.

Agencies that work separately,

need to share the same hymn sheet.

Separate boats sailing or rowing; racing across our turf.

Merge your boards, catch the next wave

then together we  will surf.

Atop the white horses we ride,

pool ou...

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Noah’s Arc

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Noah and Kyle, his wife had three sons and a very busy life.

Noah and his sons were carpenters by trade, furniture they made.

Kyle ran a petting zoo, which God thought would come in handy, too.

They all lived in a large flat, on the outskirts of Mount Ararat.

 

That night God dropped into Noah’s head as lay there asleep on his bed.

“For you a...

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Blink of an Eye

 

In the blink of an eye, the world has gone by,

all in the fickle nature of love.

What was once the ‘here and now’ is history?

What was a ‘sea of possibilities’ is the ‘here and now’,

and the ‘sea of possibilities’ is a fork in the road.

Love is sewn, grown, or snuffed out, all in the blink of an eye.

 

“I love you”, slips from a million lips;

date rape drug slipped into drink,

anoth...

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WRITEOUTLOUD SALE

You are personally invited to friendly a unique cafe-bar style open mic poetry night at the Waterside Arts Centre, near Sale Town Hall, School Road in Sale. We are diagonally opposite Sale Metro Station.  This will be our fifth evening and we are already getting feedback from our poetry friends like; ‘Enjoyed the range of poetry and informal atmosphere’ and ‘Kinship, warmth, real sharing’. Please ...

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My Valentine Girl

 

 

Flights of fancy invade my mind.

You dangle before me like a strawberry,

waiting to be plucked by my lips.

A gentle tug releases you from stem,

love bites,

my tongue rolls around testing the texture of the fruit,

but who is eating who?

The berry explodes into a symphony of delights on my tongue;

body savours  breathtaking flavour.

Nourishing the very centre of my soul we touch,

...

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Mermaids Fingers

 

A waterway betwixt earth and moon I row,

crossing near where the spheres grind,

sending shards into the heavens,

diamond luminaries giving safe passage.

 

Resistant to each orbs magnetic charms,

beckoning mermaids fingers

each offering anchorage in ample bosom,

I stow ores, surrendering to celestial tides.

 

Caprice offers the lure of a chocolate moon,

sweet temptation in moist c...

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Two Shorts

 

Some of my words

Sometimes at of my

poetry performance gigs,

some of my words may

stutter like a Gatlin Gun or,

like a runaway train or,

sound mumbled into a dodgy mic or,

muffled by a pillow or,

trail away into the corner or,

into cigarettes mist.

Then there are times when I only stutter when I talk.

It doesn’t which way my voice pops out, I deliver my poetic words,

but not nece...

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Furrows of Frustration

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wander as lonely as a drunken fool, across the fields of black and grey,

bemoaning my attempts at steady forward motion.

These manmade battlements, undulating across mother earth,

must be mountain ranges, else why would my feet slip, trip,

threaten meetings betwixt this ungainly body and artificial floor.

 

I swear there are some magnetic forces at play, tying my feet it ...

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An artist’s brush away

 

The love I have for you will never change,

it is secure within in my heart forever,

I feel so close to you yet, I fear,

we are a whole universe apart.

Both our lives are in limbo,

new love frozen for all time.

Both hands stretch across a canvas,

but that touch is always an artist’s brush away.

We sing of love from our soul,

of passion unfrequented.

Our minds, bodies and souls are be...

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I see you, but you’re not there

My coffee is going cold again as I sit here, an old man in my dimly lit room,

this bubble of existence that’s become my world.

My senses reach out for signs of life, to let me know I have a pulse.

The buzz of the water pump oxygenating a sphere of water,

a life support machine for fish that swim within.

We hold a staring competition, and then they swim away,

around that same corner for the ...

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