Poetry Blog by ray pool (Jan 2019)
I hadn't seen her for some time
but the dolls in her pram hadn't changed.
She had got older of course,
but still the nurturing went on
willing herself into the background,
her dedication a flight from reality.
She seemed to have taken to the streets
since her low key cafeteria was glammed up
throwing a spotlight on her entourage,
raising more questi...
Thursday 31st January 2019 10:00 pm
Memories like keepsakes
they have to tell
clinging to life on the edge
of pits and ovens still
have to let us know of
those they loved whose lives
were parted to the bone
departed from their rightful place
have to relive for history's sake
the interminable pointless ache
leaving their mark on youth's
wide open expectations,
living now in relative grace...
Tuesday 29th January 2019 5:29 pm
Successive stars have forged their name
in the heat of the cinema killing game.
Sylvester Stallone stands alone for
rampant destruction for a worthy cause;
Liam Neeson has added a frisson
of genuine grievance to other's malfeasance.
The list is endless but there'll always be
the biters of bullets for you and me.
The English have an admiration
for more subtle means o...
Saturday 26th January 2019 4:48 pm
I'm thinking of an ending
not to life, that's too drastic
but to some remote drama
too painful to resolve
that everyone would eagerly await.
I suppose that won't happen,
as endings require a push start at least
to lead up to themselves.
Mostly ideas just end up on shelves.
Life can be tantalizing
but mostly needs revising
to stay ahead of the game -
Thursday 24th January 2019 10:44 pm
He stood as if to hold up the wall,
looking down, leaning in,
his face obscured.
Behind him, a penumbra of wet traffic
lit up a thin stream
ongoing, seeking an outsource,
a purpose; at the drain it said goodbye
with a blush of steam,
just enough to remind me
of the persistent thud of need
taken from the well
Tuesday 22nd January 2019 11:10 pm
I saw her standing there
and suddenly thought;
what a wonderful title for a song;
but of course i'm not the Beatles,
so using the idea would have been so very wrong.
Thursday 17th January 2019 10:51 pm
It's only right we should cheer ourselves up
when hearing of the death of innocents,
of those fresh from the womb,
and of those who have outstayed their welcome
through age; of those who were
in the way of someone's plans
through strife, moving objects,
gun or knife, it's only right.
It's only right we should feel guilty
though innocent ourselves, for who would not...
Tuesday 15th January 2019 7:31 pm
Gawd strewth, there ain't no bluebirds round 'ere,
no whippoorwills neither,
the sparrers are getting rarer too,
though I did see one in Waterloo.
What with the flyovers taking to the sky
there's only pigeons that seem to fly.
Why O why can't we hear the bells
get our East End back agin'
with the corner pubs, the rub a dub dubs
as we used to call 'em.
Friday 11th January 2019 10:22 pm
Hall of fame
a wall of flame.
What's in the pipeline,
what's in a name?
Worshippers of taste
going to waste.
The playthings we treasure
with poison laced.
Thursday 10th January 2019 9:55 pm
When Nanny died, her hot water bottle cried;
"I've no one to warm up," she sighed.
Hiding her maker's mark face down,
as sad as a cast off children's clown.
The charity shops refused to take her
saying she was unhygienic,
and even though she was made of rubber
and quite dried out, she began to blubber.
In spite of her fondness for bodily contact
she'd reached t...
Wednesday 9th January 2019 9:41 pm
There's a little cove on Cornwall's coast
where a lady is writing her latest book
making the most of the atmosphere,
imagining drifting boats in the sun
and sporty chaps in flannels with pipes
or controlling types with attitude and gripes;
and someone is falling in love again.
No fast food outlets to spoil the view
of a harbour wall where gulls descend.
No slicks or...
Monday 7th January 2019 2:46 pm
The sign at the inn swung like a gallows,
the light lay low on the heath.
Old Ben was in his settle
sucking baccy through his teeth.
Puddles formed on the flagstones
where a one - eyed dog stood watch;
underneath a ragged sky
the inn was dark as a crotch,
except for a fire - lit window
that glowed like a winter star,
through which a cluster of faces took in...
Tuesday 1st January 2019 12:43 pm