Poetry Blog by trevor homer
Tags from last 12 months
I live where the best of poetry exists between
the lines; the place is full of corpses decomposing
in drawers and other half-forgotten places. I go
back every now and then; dig them up and ask
if they have anything new to say, or did our conversation
finish long ago. I sift through the remains of lost
loves and dreams, long abandoned to their fate;
looking for clues as t...
Friday 26th July 2019 4:25 pm
and I have ideas
of buying a mirror
so that I can
and see myself.
keep it in my
and take quick looks
know it was me
and not me
At least then
are your own.
Friday 19th July 2019 3:55 pm
Do you remember way back when, it was always him and you
You wore a dress of Organza that the world could see straight through
But he saw more than shape and form; he saw the inner you
A girl / child in a woman’s body, shining like a star
He should have known when she said come, she’d take him much too far
Far away from the boy he was to the man he would become
Friday 19th July 2019 10:44 am
It’s harder than you think to disappear,
to lose yourself then reappear, with no trace of why
or what went before.
You can get lulled into a false sense of security,
become blasé about the little things.
Like never answering the phone when it rings.
There was a shotgun in the cellar, wrapped in hessian sack,
I took it out a while ago, intending to put it back.
When we ...
Monday 15th July 2019 4:06 pm
announce the day
come what may
Vows all broken
a slim gold ring
a wedding token
on the floor
the night before
Love is dying
she is crying
i am lying
Wednesday 10th July 2019 10:47 am
LAST THOUGHTS ON FIDEL
FOR THOSE ABOUT TO LIE AND THOSE WHO SALUTE YOU,
NEVER HAS SO MUCH, BEEN STOLEN FROM SO MANY,
BY SO FEW.
THE LIBERAL COMMENTARIAT KNOWS A THING OR TWO
ABOUT THAT. ET TU BRUTE? ET TU?
I’M WATCHING LATE NIGHT TELEVISION,
WITH THE RADICALS CALLING THE SHOTS.
THEY’RE REVIEWING WEST-END MUSICALS,
WHILE THE WORLD’S DOWNTRODDEN ROTS.
Monday 24th June 2019 3:19 pm
THE POETRY CAFE’ [Cafe Grande, Dudley] revised
In the land of Mordor, where the furnaces roared,
And the grass was blasted black,
You can stand on a hill that looks out to the Urals,
Toward Tolstoy, and Pasternak.
Ghosts of industry haunt the museums,
And the town shuts down after dark....
Wednesday 5th June 2019 4:27 pm
IMOGEN – 10 months old
I stand with my back to the sink
While your grandmother rummages
In cupboards below. Gazing up,
She meets your expectant face
Seemingly suspended in mid air.
You are bent almost backwards;
Determined to know what world of wonder
Exists on those shelves.
I fear to move, so like a little bird you were,
Nestling into the crook of my neck,
Friday 17th May 2019 4:10 pm
THE HOLY CHURCH OF NATURE
I sit in the holy church of nature,
Listening to the incantations of
A choir of Sycamore leaves rustling
In pitch perfect harmony;
Fading to whispers as the sermon begins.
The Sunlit ceiling of mosaic cloud
Sprinkles light rain of holy water,
Baptising my boots in the
Living stream of consciousness
That trickles through the aisles of...
Friday 3rd May 2019 3:27 pm
LETS ALL GO BACK TO THE 50’s
Come with me to the 50’s, when
Men were truly men. The
Beer was cheap and fags cost pennies.
You knew where you were back then.
Let’s all go back to the 50’s, when
Women all sat in the Snug. And
Knew their place when they got home, while
Men gave their forelock a tug.
We weren’t really poor in the 50’s, we
Were all in...
Monday 29th April 2019 4:23 pm
So I get up when I hear my name,
A surreal sound I don’t fully recognise.
Should I be here? I ask myself, thinking,
‘I should have come in disguise’.
What happens when I get to the mic’?
I then realise
There’s sweat pouring down my face.
I feel like I should run.
The panic subsides and I hear applause,
Glad I decided to come.
Tuesday 23rd April 2019 4:15 pm
PERMISSION TO SPEAK
Words whither on the tongue
the next step separates the strong from the weak.
To verbalise that which is forbidden
i form the air to speak.
Against the will of others
who deny me my own name.
We are all refugees now
looking for someone to blame.
Voices whisper on the telephone line
of secrets written on a page.
That speaks of cru...
Tuesday 2nd April 2019 4:03 pm
DECONSTRUCTED SUBTERRANEAN SOUFFLE
I Was barely 14 when I heard on the radio that
‘Johnny was in the basement, cooking up the medicine’.
The recipe for whatever this revolutionary potion was,
must exist somewhere, so I made it my business
to find out more. What exactly did the ingredients consist of ?
Various listening’s divulged snippets of information which,
over a per...
Saturday 30th March 2019 11:17 am
WORK IN PROGRESS…………
Something there is about work; that
Tendency to exert muscular power or
Subtle application, and in the process
Exercise body and mind. To appreciate
That instinct to make or mend, and in doing so,
Comprehend the nature of things.
Give me a tool with which to shape and bend
Material to the intended outcome of its endeavour.
Thursday 28th March 2019 11:20 am
IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE
It’s hard to believe I’m redundant,
My productive worth measured by age.
My best before date now expired,
In reality I’m now retired.
I heard my name mentioned,
Then saw it on a list.
Pinned to the wall,
Next to the toilet,
At the en...
Thursday 14th March 2019 3:21 pm
I DREAM IN POETRY
Stifled truth in conversation,
Observing friendships cordial path.
I shake my head, but keep my counsel,
One man’s right is another man’s wrath.
Some march under headline banners,
Believing what the papers said.
But when I sleep, I dream in poetry,
And when I wake, I count the dead......
When day is done, and night time comes,
Wednesday 6th March 2019 3:41 pm
WHEN IN SOME DISTANT TIME [For Imogen]
When, in some distant time; no, I don’t mean
Those halcyon days of summer, when you are busy
In a world adults cannot enter.
Or splashing on shorelines, held tightly by the eternal bond
Of mother and father; or else falling in long grass
Grown taller than your head, while running so fast,
You were a blur to others....
Monday 18th February 2019 4:31 pm
THE BEAUTIFUL GAME
When I was Edson Arantes Do Nascimento,
It seemed everyone knew my name.
From the back streets of Sao Paulo, to Midlands council estate,
We played the beautiful game; in the shadow of electricity pylon,
Its arms outstretched in pose of Christ in Corcovado.
The Maracanã, transposed from Rio to cul-de-sac,
Lamplight illuminating the stadium.
Tuesday 12th February 2019 2:23 pm
GIRL FROM THE BLACK COUNTRY
‘I could ate a bull,
Then cry for his ‘orns.
I’m bloody clammed’, she said.
‘The shillin’s gone so we cor cook,
An’ the babby still ay fed’.
I used to be as big as a bonk ‘oss,
Now I’m as thin as a rake.
‘e said e’d tek me out to dinner,
The bloody lyin’ face-ache’.
‘e took me up the ‘ways instead,
To buy a bag o’ suc...
Tuesday 12th February 2019 9:42 am