Poetry Blog by Tim Ellis
Not so infamous as ‘81
when Liverpool went feral
and anger blazed for nine whole days,
the riot of ‘85 arose
in Toxteth when someone
was stabbed and four men’s freedom hung in peril.
I didn’t know that then, although I was
stranded in the middle
thinking “What the fuckin’ fuck?!!”
In ‘85 there was a lack
of means to know the cause.
We had no internet to solve...
Monday 21st September 2020 3:26 pm
As promised yesterday, my updated secular and politically correct rewrite of Land Of Hope And Glory...
Land of Hope and Mercy
Mother of the Free
How shall we extol thee
Who are born of thee?
Wider still, and wider
Stretch thy welcoming arms;
Embracing all the needy
With tolerance and charm!
Dear Land of Hope, thy hope is crowned.
We’ll make thee more me...
Friday 28th August 2020 10:20 am
A lot of debate recently about the appropriateness of "Rule Britannia" and "Land of Hope and Glory" as songs for the modern age. The middle verse of "God Save the Queen" is equally controversial, but it strikes me that although I sang the song hundreds of times when I was young and had little choice in the matter, I have never sung the offending verse because it was always tactfully dropped. I don...
Thursday 27th August 2020 11:37 am
Today we’ll learn to build a wordstone wall,
substantial as the one before you now.
It must survive hard frosts; wild gales and squalls;
ride seismic shifts; endure the shunts of cows.
First we think about what it’s for.
The purpose might be to keep your chattels penned
or keep intruders out.
It may define the boundaries of your tract
or simply be aesthetic.
Thursday 23rd July 2020 1:31 pm
GERARD YOU ARE!!”
Not the most astute critique, I know,
but we were just fifteen. The Pink Floyd song
would volley from the mouths of my home gang
every time a panda car rolled slow
to cast a cagey eye on us then slew
away from those street corners where we’d hang,
and mumbling some Prog Rock lyrics wrong
summed all the in...
Wednesday 8th July 2020 10:37 am
The sun was filtering through a gauze of green
and ripples of lustre rolled pearl-like over moss
as if her path lay deep beneath the sea.
The branches overhead
seemed polished with a gloss
that flung each iridescent spark of light
ricocheting sideways, bud to bud,
before they sprinkled, sharp and diamond white,
to soak into the vibrant
forest’s spongy bed.
Sunday 31st May 2020 9:34 am
Anemones frizzled sparks beneath the trees
and bluebells rippled lakesides in the glades
the day Amelia Hamilton first breezed
into the woodland camp
sequestered in the shade.
Although no one had seen her face before
they felt she had been born to live among them.
Willing to muck-in with all the chores
the new recruit soon proved
more expert than the young men.
Sunday 24th May 2020 10:17 am
The night Amelia Hamilton was born
the caravan was battered by a gale.
Her mother gripped the drop-down bed and scorned
the father who was now
a thousand miles away.
The caravan site owner made it clear
that babies have to pay their rent as well
so young Amelia passed the next ten years
in custody of Gran
where none would wish to dwell.
Daily beatings, sma...
Thursday 14th May 2020 8:44 am