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Roger Fizzerton

Updated: Wed, 17 Apr 2013 10:48 pm

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Hi all, I write poetry in a variety of styles, not performed any yet, but hope to start doing so soon!


and she was - another colour, another day ----------------------------------------- an arm sticks out from a upstairs side window of a white weatherboard house a girl's arm, subtly tanned, neat pink nails from a window on the other side a matching arm the chimney above sports the neck and head of a girl perhaps early twenties, blond hair she has a nice smile from beneath the basement windows protrude a pair of bare legs on the feet pale blue flat courts what we have here is a girl wearing a house don't cuddle too hard you might knock off roof tiles to skutter and fall to the floor smash the touching of drain pipes is strictly verboten as is interference with gutters or other rainwater goods but a hand gentle placed on the backdoor is regarded as acceptable, if forward Motorway -------- Bending lines of neon tracers livid, in the morning sky fly above the concrete causeway channelling floods of red and white lights this conspiracy of motion pushing pushing pushing always always always onwards on along the urban valley of the M60 motorway, taking men from wives to workshops taking wives from beds to factories in the far too early morning while the pigeons under bridges are sitting fluffed and sleeping still the end of some things ---------------------- the morphine was maxed out I put my hand on his head as it moved rose and fell with his ribs fighting to pull and push air through his lungs he might have mumbled my name I tried to will him the strength to let go a last exhalation, followed by nothing no sense of moving on no look of peace not a trace of anything special he just stopped S&C --- Hold it open a bit babe so I can slip my toe in that furry entrance - wriggle it around - oh that’s good. So soft and warm I’m pushing my whole foot in - oh yes - now the next one. Time for a few good hard strokes and a thorough scratch round the head. With a tail that cute I don’t even mind if she nibbles. (Written after somebody commented that poems about 'socks and cats' were boring)

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Roger Fizzerton

Mon 22nd Apr 2013 00:15


Thank you so much! This seem like a really friendly place - I look forward to exploring it properly soon - like what I've seen so far!



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Ann Foxglove

Sun 21st Apr 2013 08:10

Really like your poems! Welcome to WOL - hope you enjoy being a part of the site :)

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