Poetry Blog by Richie Muster
Scribble on won't you throw me a line? (Thu, 16 May 2013 06:55 pm)
stella jones on Beyond The Gates Of Eden (For Wu) (Fri, 26 Apr 2013 02:15 pm)
stella jones on Twine Whine (A Day In The Life Of comp) (Tue, 16 Apr 2013 09:37 pm)
stella jones on The Wind Has Spoken (Tue, 16 Apr 2013 09:35 pm)
A skein of daring stalks the hall
with expectation as he walks
between the rows of desks and talks
in passing whispers to them all;
approaching one he leans to read,
her hair a glade of forest clear
and, breathing softly in her ear
lets one hand fall at tortoise speed
onto her shoulder, resting there
just long enough to allay doubt
Monday 13th May 2013 2:34 pm
Of all war’s tragedies, one such was this:
young Stoker Tom Martin, aged twenty-one.
His death wasn’t wrought to mourn then dismiss
any less than whole legions dead and gone
in wars fought for…what? National pride?
But nor was that end a brave sacrifice,
trapped as his ship was torpedoed – he died
a mean death. It was too high a price
for doing what w...
Wednesday 1st May 2013 11:13 am
…then write a line that has eight beats.
Follow this with another line:
one that rhymes but never repeats
what came before and you’ll be fine.
Always choose a rhyme containing
options for its substitution
should you find your vocab straining
to make sense of resolution
with regards to narrative flow.
Poems are such flexible things
that should ...
Wednesday 1st May 2013 10:57 am
I feel abashed at something I’ve done wrong
and wish it didn’t involve another
for, thanks to my libido, my glib tongue
has made a married woman my lover.
Had I but known the dark guilt I’d foster
I’d have kept it stowed firmly in my pants
but neglect of what our act would cost her
led me to lead her on some merry dance
engineered by my base, priapic...
Thursday 25th April 2013 4:26 pm
Usually, I am a much tidier ball of twine,
but unravelled thus I describe a line
which, when tangled, becomes an awful lot
of hassle. Normally, I say this is peachy. Fine,
go ahead: please unpick me, I do love a spot
of hands-on attention. Besides, it’s not
as though I’m busy overmuch – a sign
of misuse maybe? But when, in truth, what
I really want is to ti...
Saturday 13th April 2013 1:45 pm
The wind has spoken, and it says
that night will come within the hour;
its cloak will fold the end of days
back on itself, as though a flower
and send to sleep the weary world
with whispered words smoothed by its breeze
‘til morning’s yawn brings dawn unfurled
to paint a smile on next day’s frieze.
The wind has spoken; hear its song
Saturday 13th April 2013 1:41 pm
Innocuous it squats, cosied up inside its pristine
gleam, resolute and immobile atop a rising swell
of thermokinetic energy…it suffuses morning’s
hypnopompic hinterland with its earthy miasma
of rich fragrances…earthly delights sourced to arouse
the most jaded, the most desensitised of senses…
…berries roasted sweet brown and woody, their
august, russet temptat...
Saturday 13th April 2013 1:38 pm
I thought this afternoon's flower of
romance couldn't blossom any farther
but then you sent me an email telling
me all about your mum. I'm not afraid
to admit it sweetheart: I filled up over
your memories of her teaching your dad
to make jam; they must have loved
each other very much indeed.
Thursday 28th March 2013 1:05 pm
Your sweet voice down the telephone
turns me on in delicious ways
and leaves me aching, not alone
but rapt with wanting, in a glaze.
I need you here like fire needs air;
I need your hand in place of mine;
I need to hear you moan, "yes, there!"
To hear that now would sing...divine.
April is a world away yet:
I ache for you, my saucy minx!
Thursday 14th March 2013 7:27 pm