Poetry Blog by ray pool (Jan 2018)
Life is a mixed open prison
with one way in and one way out.
Some have bigger more comfortable cells,
but all suffer confinement
with variations of refinement.
So make the best of it -
bring your trinkets to the ball;
try to make your stay comfortable,
be friends with the gaoler
if it helps.
If you run screaming round the grounds
Tuesday 30th January 2018 11:09 pm
I see her now displayed behind glass
preserved in memory's cabinet,
her hips, lips, cast of jaw
cupped in every familiar place,
twenty years and more passed by.
Flying so close, we tried to cast
a future that never could be;
no rock to build that future on-
only illusions hewn to a shape
of hips, lips, cast of jaw
preserved as memory's favoured face.
Friday 26th January 2018 10:12 pm
Resentment is a lift that only goes down
on its way to level hate,
never reaching the bottom,
dragging you to your fate.
Gravity helps it on its way
so its hard to change your mind,
its walls are full of mirrors
to watch your spirit unwind.
No-one waits on other floors
to share your downward trend,
the mirrors are designed for you,
reflections that never...
Tuesday 23rd January 2018 8:19 pm
I've got quite a collection of regular likers,
my pockets are full of bad dreams,
some of them mucky from dust therein,
but all highly flavoured if you know what I mean?
Bodily fluids, orifices,
always good for the mind to dwell on;
best out in the open is what I say;
if you write with hatred that's A OK.
Never mind the shit that keeps flowing,
it's just anot...
Thursday 18th January 2018 10:13 pm
The knife is full of dreams
that turn into nightmares
which once applied can never be denied.
The romance of fine steel
is not for the faint-hearted,
never can be shared with the now departed.
Wednesday 17th January 2018 2:18 pm
The cottage is tucked up in bed,
curtains like eyelids are closed;
there's a glow of a fire
where its heart is beating,
a carpet rolled out for welcome.
No-one knocks at this ungodly hour,
outside, the lane is a river of dark.
We sit in silence's mutual regard,
as right as keys in a lock,
complete, as companions should be.
The cottage is tucked up in bed,...
Saturday 13th January 2018 9:32 pm
Phallic symbols cast for death,
made for penetration
of brick, metal, bone, flesh,
mind, spirit, hope, dreams
while men decide
on whose hot belly
they take their ride.
Wednesday 10th January 2018 8:50 pm
Mummy and Daddy are Methodists
they have to have everything right;
they taught me that life is sacred,
to never give up the good fight.
Biology taught me the details
of life with its marvellous ways,
seeing how things are constructed
and to see how they're taken apart;
the blood and the organs, muscles and nerves,
how living creatures feed and breed;
Thursday 4th January 2018 10:07 pm