Poetry Blog by trevor homer

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Don Matthews on DOVES IN FLAK JACKETS (Tue, 24 Dec 2019 10:46 pm)

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trevor homer on DEAR IMOGEN (Sat, 7 Sep 2019 10:12 am)

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raypool on I LOOKED FOR YOU (Fri, 6 Sep 2019 11:33 am)

Graham Sherwood on I LOOKED FOR YOU (Thu, 5 Sep 2019 09:48 pm)

DOVES IN FLAK JACKETS

                       

                        The curfew had been extended

                        The day that the rumour began

                        3 strangers were seen approaching

                        At the head of a caravan     

 

                        A Drone had detected their presence

                        As it hung like a star in the sky

           ...

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AUTUMN TERM

The daily landscape changes

With scholastic intent,

As myriad masses make their way

Through streets aroused from summers break.

Now wide awake, and drenched in dew,

Autumn term begins.

 

Mornings populated by procession

Of those now proudly in possession

Of shiny new uniforms.

Worn by children, some of whom,

Summer somehow forgot to nurture,

Seeming too small...

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THE NEW RELIGION 1969

In ballroom, catacomb, crypt and cellar, institute and social club,

teenage tribe seeks youthful pleasure, dance sweaty beat in backstreet pub

 

Explosions far off in the distance, portent of change and seismic shift,

the past now struggles to define us, in truth it’s always been like this

 

We danced the frenzied dance of youth while summer drifted on unseen,

time had trapped...

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I LOOKED FOR YOU

 

I looked for you when sleep was easy;

and dreams were indistinguishable

from waking hours; in every

chrome cafe juke box and hissing coffee machine

that poured promise of Italy; on every bus

that shed victims at the factory; and every

pair of shoes not brown.

 

I looked for you in tab-collar shirt

holding a pair of pliers;

in welded steel and long hours;

whe...

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DEAR IMOGEN

Dear Imogen,

Be of good cheer,

it’s not the North that’s grim.

It’s just perfidious Albion

that causes such precipitation.

 

When you were born

the stars aligned and

in conjunction with the sun,

seduced the Jet Stream’s aerial flight,

‘Till North and South shone as one.

 

Imagine then a sunny day,

when fields of daffodils hold sway,

and Bluebells form a w...

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OUT HERE ON THE COAST [revised and re-posted]

Out here on the coast I can taste bountiful

pleasures from The Garden of England;

the juice of luscious fruit drips from my lips,

as rolling Downs determine distance between

far horizons and rolling sea.

 

The ‘Pearl of Kent’, lustrous still with oyster

beds exposed at low tide. Few boats remain

of a fishing trade capsized, as I look back to

where people speak in a for...

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WHERE THE BEST OF POETRY EXISTS BETWEEN THE LINES

 

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...

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SORRY, MY MISTAKE

Yes

and I have ideas

of buying a mirror

 

so that I can

sit opposite

and see myself.

 

I could

keep it in my

pocket

 

and take quick looks

wherever

I was

 

and

know it was me

being myself

 

and not me

being

someone else.

 

At least then

your mistakes

are your own.

 

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STILL LIVES, DISTANT VOICES - a love story in 4. acts.

Act. 1.

 

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

Fu...

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THERE'S A SHOTGUN IN THE CELLAR

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 ...

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SHADOWS

 

Shadows drifting

silently shifting

announce the day

come what may

 

Vows all broken

words unspoken

a slim gold ring

a wedding token

 

Lies dicarded 

on the floor

remnant from 

the night before

 

Love is dying

she is crying

i am lying

in shadows

 

 

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LAST THOUGHTS ON FIDEL

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.

 

THE...

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THE POETRY CAFE

 

 

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.

 

Black-country bards breathe tortured vowels

And the letter H is superfluous...

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IMOGEN - 10 months old

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,

R...

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THE HOLY CHURCH OF NATURE

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 

...

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LETS ALL GO BACK TO THE 50's

 

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...

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POETRY NIGHT

 

POETRY NIGHT

 

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.

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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

 

When day is done, and night time comes,

thoughts, disjointed, anointed with visions

appear from I don’t know where.

But there’s the rub,

when muse is sought In light of day,

I find little to convey.

 

Yet, when bed beckons, ablutions disposed,

fractured prose finds me unexpectedly, as

evening recollection of rigged election

competes with min...

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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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