Poetry Blog by trevor homer
Tags from last 12 months
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...
Thursday 18th April 2019 3:36 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,
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,
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