I grew up in the North East, moved South for a while and am now living in Sheffield. I've been writing these things since I was 15, mainly as a way of making sense of life and the situations around me. In many of the poems I tried to put myself in the place of someone I knew and then write from their perspective. I've never performed any poems live - but have posted some recordings here, so you can find out for yourself why that be might the case. I have grown to love reading other people's work on this site and hope to attend some events soon...
It's the eccentricities of normal people that makes art exciting it's the connections gifted minds make that set the page alight The sexiness of confidence paired with some intrinsic wisdom O just look at what they chose to say and how they said it sets the canvas alight Shine your twisted mind all over me drape your knotted rhymes all over me pour your unique charm all over me With originality with your eccentricity all over me!
The Sea At Night Does Not Rest
Too tired to rest I only care are you out there somewhere A glass of cheap wine on the arm of some expensive chair And do you... could you think of me sometime maybe... while I'm still alive The gravity of your movements swells the tides of my emotions and you'll probably never know You drag me to ecstasy, then to lowest ebb and you'll probably never know You amaze me with your vagary I could fall in love so easily but you won't let me Could you think of me sometime could you think of me sometime maybe... while we're still alive...
Can You Hear The People Sing?
They dwell in strange rooms the murky recesses of affordability barely buildings, bedrooms with sinks chair pushed up against the door flakes of lives flung everywhere a curtain, a quilt - who can really say? A bare bulb hangs in an open window no shade inside from day or night Still lives go on; the rudimentary, ramshackle, clutching at homeliness the need for shelter unites us all a hotel, a shed - who can really say? In bleak electric heat, so many sing it’s a different song all sing a different song Some higher, happier some lower, more desperate than mine flowing on through these days and nights a verse, a chorus - who can really say? The lawless, surging, movement of cars the self-possessed trains below the buildings so many pairs of eyes journeying on the things they’ve seen, things they still see those minds, all varied, wrapped in their own stories a tragedy, a fairytale - who can really say? Market stalls, street-sellers in threading gloves the inside world spills out, a necessity pavements become malls dressed in winter veils motorbikes slip ghost-like in and out of sight drunks stumble in high-spirits from bar to bar a wall, a urinal - who can really say? In tall towers, in basement bunkers so many singing their different songs some sing of the joy of things some sing only of the difficulty the tunes flow through this city’s veins a love song, a death’s lament - who can really say? But can you? can you hear the people sing? the miserable, the quietly ecstatic can you hear the people sing?
Love Is What You Need
If you love it it will be what you wanted If you give it you will find it’s what you lost There is something waiting something beautiful, waiting if you’re patient if you love it You say you want to see scenes that feed your eyes they’re waiting, they’re all around you if you love them There is something happening something beautiful, happening if you’re open if you love it If it’s beauty that you want it’s all around you if you love it it’s all around you...
If I was the dentist I would take such pleasure pulling the bad teeth those numb little stumps right out of other people's heads With a smile and some amusing tale I'd talk to them so calmly then slip into their mouths and rip those unfeeling pegs right out of other people's heads If I was the dentist I'd reach down and pluck those dead bones those unloved chewers right out of other people's skulls And what's to say your God's not like me and what's to say He doesn't eye me with the same contempt the same criteria And what's to say He doesn't dream of someday soon whipping me out of his over-crowded mouth If I was the dentist I would waste no time pulling the bad teeth those hollow, worthless juts of rotten bone right out of other people's mouths...
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Don't Look And It Won't Hurt (13/08/2019)
Murmur Love (25/07/2019)
Idle Flame (18/07/2019)
The Artist's Desk (12/07/2019)
Great Destroyers (08/07/2019)
We Walked Along The Wall (07/07/2019)
Love And Everything Else (06/07/2019)
How To Be Alone (26/06/2019)
You Are My Priest (24/06/2019)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/tom
Anatomy of Longing (01/12/2018)
Restless (Sequel) (13/07/2018)
30 Steps (19/06/2012)
Can You Hear The People Sing? (22/02/2012)
Pull Apart The Perfect Nest (26/07/2010)
Our Home Cannot Be Here (28/05/2010)
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