Poetry Blog by trevor homer

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Stu Buck on DECONSTRUCTED SUBTERRANEAN SOUFFLE (Sat, 30 Mar 2019 05:55 pm)

TOMMY BILLS

TOMMY BILLS

I was Fifteen years old and starting my first job. The day itself a blur

Notable for my first instruction, given with relaxed assurance from a giant of a man

Six Foot Six, size 15’s, I’d never seen a man so tall and

Me a schoolboy by comparison. 

‘Pass me those tools,’ he said. Tommy Bills was his name                                           

Built like the prove...

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PERMISSION TO SPEAK

 

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...

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DECONSTRUCTED SUBTERRANEAN SOUFFLE

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...

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WORK IN PROGRESS..........

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.

 

To des...

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IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE

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...

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I DREAM IN POETRY

I DREAM IN POETRY

 

Stifled truth in conversation,

Preserving friendships cordial path.

I shake my head, but keep my counsel,

One man’s right is another man’s wrath.

 

Marching under many banners,

I’ve left the papers all unread.

But when I sleep, I dream in poetry,

And when I wake, I count the dead......

 

When day is done, and night time comes,

Thoughts, di...

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WHEN IN SOME DISTANT TIME [For Imogen]

 

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.

...

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For my 6 month old grandaughter

THE BEAUTIFUL GAME

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.

 

When reput...

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GIRL FROM THE BLACK COUNTRY

 

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...

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