Poetry Blog by Tom (city)

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Don Matthews on Contusion Blues (1 day ago)

Wolfgar Miere on We Were Beautiful (1 day ago)

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Jason Bayliss on We Were Beautiful (2 days ago)

Tom on Don't Look And It Won't Hurt (7 days ago)

Don Matthews on Don't Look And It Won't Hurt (9 days ago)

Lisa C Bassignani on Don't Look And It Won't Hurt (9 days ago)

Tom on Our Home Cannot Be Here (Mon, 29 Jul 2019 02:32 pm)

Martin Elder on Breathless (Mon, 29 Jul 2019 09:34 am)

keith jeffries on Breathless (Sun, 28 Jul 2019 08:53 pm)

At Dream's End

At dream’s end 
we let the water flow
accepting
resolved

At dream’s end
loosening our grip
hold the best bits
release the scenes that never came

I imagined endless parties
some intangible heart that I could puncture
I imagined so much more
turns out it’s just another place 
moving at a heightened pace

Now I sit quietly
by the chequered flag
grateful to have run
chest heaving
...

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citydreamsexpectationlifelondonplans

Letter From The Lake

Dear friend
a sigh is leaving me
I can concentrate now, finally
a statue standing on the jetty
the lake’s slow wash below the boards
hypnotising me

I feel freer now than ever
more than I did back there
I don’t know how you toil on
those boiling days below the city
tinned-life crammed searching for air

You wrote of the love you found
that you always dreamed was waiting
head cocked ...

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citycountrysidehopeleaving townletterloss

A Little Place I Know...

We all hate the government
but what can you do 
just drink in the evening sun
talking with old friends

A little place I know
when our graft is done
we go…

Cobbled streets, thin passageways
snaking pipes embrace the buildings
in the shadow cast by evening sun
standing with good friends

A little place I know
let’s grab a bus
and go…

Who voted 'leave', not one man here
I'll sta...

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citydrinkingfridaysfriendsLondonpast timespolitics

Can You Hear The People Sing?

They dwell in strange rooms
the murky recesses of affordability
barely buildings, bedrooms with sinks
chair pushed up against the door
flakes of lives flung everywhere
A curtain, a quilt - who can really say?

A bare bulb hangs in an open window
no shade inside from day or night
Still lives go on; the rudimentary,
ramshackle, clutching at homeliness
the need for shelter unites us all
A hotel, a shed - who ca...

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citylondonmovingthe city

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