by Simon Austin
For history has changed its path
And we must fall in line.
For we at peace, with guarded arms, we chose to watch this from afar,
But we, deliberately attacked,
Must no more stand apart.
An Emperor, through wicked lies, convinced us of continued peace,
But sickening deceit was this,
As they slipped underneath.
Monday 9th December 2013 10:36 am
Tags: america,pearl harbor,pearl harbour,poem,poetry,war
held in by a bodywork of skin
run by a grey computerised engine
oiled by thoughts put in
fuel pump, pumps red petrol,
enough for a lifetimes miles
but its when those two major components dont synchronize
that any breakdown service cant stop the tears leaking or start the smiles.
The chassis is a maze of amazing bones,thick,minute,...
Monday 9th December 2013 10:15 am
Also by Patricia and Stefan Wilde:Come eventide |
hold me in passionate glances
whisper cruel things
with the silent minds of old friends
remember what we tried to forget
because its slowly coming back
out of the depths of time.
So ashes really can become flames again
Monday 9th December 2013 8:25 am
Also by emmy92:Mistakes |
by Leslie Smith
For anyone else.
Me, me, me, me
I, I, I, I, I.
Get on with it.
M u u u meee
Give me your attention
Or I will cut.
Get on with it
Knicker elastic worn.
I can break you up
I will cut.
Get on with it
Wedge I will drive.
Your stealing my
M u u u meee
I will cut....
Monday 9th December 2013 4:39 am
Tags: harsh reality,life's reflection,mind,self harm
Also by Leslie Smith:Music | The Robins Nest | The Nameless Baby | Waiting to Fly | Cyprus Today | North Cyprus Advocates | Falling | Internet Dating | The Fairy | The friend that was | One Star | The Cart | Bye your Side | Carob Cottage |
by David Cooke
your paradise you’ll see it
the way you’ve dreamed it
and think of it as home.
You’ll know you’ve reached it
because you are chosen;
because you have earned it
and suffered enough.
You have trekked, prayed,
or bombed your way.
You have spent your life deciphering
the shadows on the walls
of dungeons, caves,
Sunday 8th December 2013 10:18 pm
Also by David Cooke:Reading the Rings |
by Ian Gant
I want a suit by Hugo Boss,
Mohair with a silken gloss,
A Maserati painted blue,
Perhaps a Jaguar would do.
A Rolex Oyster gold and bright,
With tickets for an opening night,
Underwear by Calvin Klein,
Vintage Brandy, Grand Cru wine.
A Lear Jet with a private strip,
To pamper me on every trip,
Caviar on Melba toast,
Summer on a sun dren...
Sunday 8th December 2013 7:37 pm
by Ian Whiteley
In my youth
I stood exalted
above the heads
of all before me.
Their eyes uplifted
in rapturous praise.
Resplendent in my new
and colourful garb.
The light exploding
from my pores
In my middle age
I was feared.
a gaudy icon
cold, grey, battles
of the soul.
The true love
of my creation
in a steely...
Sunday 8th December 2013 1:16 pm
Tags: broken stained glass window,derelict church,destruction of religion,loss of faith,religious icons
quite the reverse actually. To me it serves no purpose whatsoever,
apart from the sky which I'll worship till I die; and yes, the stars
look pretty when it's dark, and the moon was made for lovers
I haven't read: 'A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME' and nor would
I attempt to; we came out of...
Sunday 8th December 2013 12:04 pm
Also by Philip Fletcher:The greasy film of winter. |
There you are with your BA (Hons) in English Literature,
5 years of studying poetry and prose.
Yes, you’re a real academic, all those years
in lectures and seminars. Got you a decent career
and a real nice income. Not like me
who did it the other way. Taught myself
to write, been published many times.
See what you think of my poems and my book.
Sunday 8th December 2013 2:10 am
Tags: academia,life lessons,my path,working class versus upper middle class
Also by nick armbrister:Eclipsing Karin’s Fracture |
I prefer to see
Christian children’s glee
When they play-out the
Coming of J.C. -
(C) David Franks 2003; from -
Saturday 7th December 2013 2:53 pm
Are long since forgotten.
The cries and calls
From shattered malls.
Can Eire’s M,Guiness expect
the same respect
from folk in the bogs.
on finally popping
HIS blood stained clogs.
Saturday 7th December 2013 1:20 pm
It seems to merely become apparent
as we begin to notice, first its light (ness)
then its growth in power, illuminating
ourselves and those around us.
Light can be dangerous,
when we need a corner in which to hide
yet comforting when we need to shine.
Of course there are dark days
when light is hidden from our view
and we feel that such a time mus...
Friday 6th December 2013 11:58 pm
by Tim Ellis
“What’s it got to do with us?” refrained
my father when his boys
spurned the bottle of Cape Red plonk
he’d serve with Sunday roast. Despite how it stained,
he’d never grasp our umbrage at his choice,
but Nelson’s cell was like a sunken rock
Friday 6th December 2013 10:19 pm
Tags: Apartheid,Nelson Mandela,poem
A distant lone voice calling once more to remember
the frosted ground in soil so deeply dug
by brothers , sisters , parents in an eternal loving hug
He was Hugh the jovial brave-heart good in word and deed
Filled with true compassion for transient ones in need
His caring for the destitute resolute to heal the streets
Friday 6th December 2013 9:21 pm
Also by SPACEGHOST:Blackpool |
your absence echos in my heart,
feel now the time may have come,
to walk alone,
to take to the stage
and speak of love,
a love unrequited,
My candle flickers in the wind,
Friday 6th December 2013 8:46 pm
by Ian Beckett
In factory, office, school,
With woman, parent, child,
Just the groundhog day of life.
These words can set you free
From your private prison cell –
You can walk along the shore,
With sand between your toes,
And salt-caked cracking lips.
You can fly a million miles,
With sea below and stars above,
And wind-watered stre...
Friday 6th December 2013 8:44 pm
by John Coopey
Get Flash to see this player.
You took them out this year and they have inextricably entangled themselves; and they don’t work.
You wonder why, but you needn’t. The answer is in the name, Fairy Lights. It is, of course, the fairies who make them work.
But where ever there are fairies there are hobgoblins and it is thei...
Friday 6th December 2013 4:04 pm
Also by John Coopey:I Blame That Prawn Vindaloo |
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier...
So-oldier of the Queen!"
- from 'The Young British Soldier' by Rudyard Kipling
An elite "lure" to trap Taliban fighters into being shot
Always seeming to...
Friday 6th December 2013 3:47 pm
Will smith was there.
You were upstairs wasted.
I still ran up.
Still in my dreams.
Friday 6th December 2013 3:03 pm
to spend the year chatting,
lining the walls of the back garden;
their dresses ruffling with
every whispered tickle of birdsong.
Regal they are, lasting in their plump
precision; perhaps a grandmother
to all trees, whistling, offering
pinecones - I find them hopeful
of a hug every time I pass them.
As a child, I gave them my...
Friday 6th December 2013 12:16 pm
by Ann Foxglove
owl sinks soft
like a silk handkerchief
bringing blackness to vole and leveret
soft as fog
sharp as razors owl sinks down
like a blanket over a birdcage
swish, away, a lens shape,
slips into the barn
quiet as snow….
Friday 6th December 2013 9:55 am
Get Flash to see this player.
Those walls could have been
A hundred feet tall,
No, a thousand feet
With every inch taken like breath,
And I’m sure the humility behind them,
The exhaustion to climb them,
Would take the deepest intake of air,
No walls knew this man,
No walls could keep
Boundaries of forfeiture
To see the stars tumble
From looking on in despair,
Thursday 5th December 2013 11:16 pm
Also by Noetic-fret!:The Dying | TV People |
is moon-blown fragments of the sea
curled into an open question.
Remnants of things which used to be
other things puzzle the shoreline
in bleached clues and half answers
though none catch the eye quite like
a pair of size 9 pink stilettos.
They open like quotation marks
as if to answer a half buried question.
The heel's sharp blade is unfamiliar...
Thursday 5th December 2013 8:38 pm
when you can have the genuine thing?
For the purpose of "new age" spirituality
is replacing God with the Human Being.
Working from a false assumption
that Man is essentially good,
will lead us down destruction's path
as History has taught us, as it would.
The fight for supremacy
of our human souls
is still being waged by the Devil
Thursday 5th December 2013 5:19 pm
Tags: breunig,christian poetry,faith,New Age Spirituality
Also by Joseph J. Breunig 3rd:Poem: Immortality | Poem: Show of Hands |
Stainless steel glistens in the gaslight
it cuts through gravity and sinew.
Whitechapel is mine tonight
nobody knows what I will do.
It cuts through gravity and sinew
when you hold it right.
Nobody knows what I will do
If you put up a fight.
When you hold it right
Just one swing and you are through
If you put up a fight
I’ll cut you in two...
Thursday 5th December 2013 12:17 pm
Tags: Jack the Ripper,pantoum
White winter has long thrived
Colorful flowers no longer grow
And gardens have been deprived
Birds have flown to far away land
And greenery exists only in words
Ohh.. I miss the sparkling sun
And the chirping of morning birds
Lonely cold wind whispers in night
As autumn slowly turned into winter
Leafless trees stand alone like knights
While golden leaves...
Thursday 5th December 2013 7:16 am
by Nick Coleman
Beeching has been at work in her brain.
Branch lines are closing. No train
of thought as tracks disappear
in a tangled undergrowth where,
tearful, she loses hold of time.
I must get back down the main line
before the wrong sort of memories
cause wheels to lose their grip.
I'm sliding back to nowhere fast.
Wasn’t I was your mother...
Wednesday 4th December 2013 9:32 pm
that went beyond all kinds
of acceptable boundaries
and normal taste.
Yours was a strange love
that involved so much kissing
in the rain
I am surprised I never
got the flu.
Yours was a strange love
like Snakes and ladders
minus a dice
and replaced with a pin
you may pull off
Blind Man's Bluff.
Yours was a strange love
full of kinky mis-adventures...
Wednesday 4th December 2013 12:56 pm
And listen to what they have to say
All the time wondering why
They feel they have the need to lie
Do they not realise what it does to me
I guess they really just don’t see
It tears me up and makes me cry
But if I say anything, then I’m the bad guy
I don’t forget, I’m not a fool
Just tell me the truth I will be c...
Wednesday 4th December 2013 10:51 am
Also by Lindsey Davis:Light |
One of the seers, one of our own.
One of the prophets will write no more lines
in radical rhymes
nor preach them to people like us.
He struggled against his emptying days,
though yearned for contentment and calm.
Thought he had lost that angry young man,
but McGarrigle – words never die;
they’re beyond a stillness...
Tuesday 3rd December 2013 4:26 pm
Tags: Glasgow,John McGarrigle,poet,The Clutha
By the roaring motorway and tarmac lines of cars
Pumping out their rush hour fumes
The brick houses and shops stand shabbily
and scruffy people hang about by the cheap booze shop
They look down at their mobile phones
for unimportant messages.
A dog soils the pavement and runs blindly across the road
nearly causing a crash
when I comment t...
Tuesday 3rd December 2013 11:44 am
Tags: "council estate"
Michael and Irina put on a show that mixed the best acoustic music with the best poetry and all this in a venue that has the creakiest stairs i've ever climbed. This (like I've mentioned) was the first UTLGO that I'...
Tuesday 3rd December 2013 9:03 am
Also by Aaron Dinsdale:Day One |
each others toes,
both of us,
are wearing stiletoes.
Our eyes engage,
only for a nano second,
then we turn and look away,
just long enough,
to see in each others souls
but not long enough to drown
or fall down the tunnel of love,
the forbidden hole.
We skip amongst our peers,
this year we both have shed tears.
Connect is not allowe...
Tuesday 3rd December 2013 8:42 am
by Chris Co
@ Gallaghers Pub & Barbers
20 Chester Street,
At 8pm upstairs we're putting on a free spread of Christmas food for everyone. The typical fare (veggies also catered for). Thx to Dave Bradley and his hotplate, tasty warm mince pies! Food and a chance to socialise.
At 8:30 - 10pm upstairs we wi...
Monday 2nd December 2013 8:55 pm
In a time once passed, stars danced for us
Butterflies hovered serenely in meditation
Guides whispered messages and Angels and demons waged war
On the battlefield of the soul
A time of shipwreck and salvation. Of death and rebirth
Then christened in the waters of madness
Wrapped in blankets of wonderment and torment
Guidance was delivered from th...
Monday 2nd December 2013 4:29 pm
by Mike Hilton
Wash my face
Comb my hair
Fix my laces
Straighten my tie
Hold my hand
Walk me to school
Throw a tearful wave
Catch a nervous look
Release a maternal smile
Search my tongue
For a lie
Scrub it clean
When I'm wrong
Sneak a peek
On my facebook
Deny you didn't
Cos you kn...
Monday 2nd December 2013 1:56 pm
On his computer perpetually at home,
With virtual shopping aisle experience!
Adds fudge cakes to the shopping pick list.
Love life consists of downloading dirty pics.
Soccer views, Newcastle's latest team news,
Movie entertainment and games reviews!
Has conversations with friends on facebook.
He ordered a takeaway Pizza via E-mail.
Bid in an aucti...
Monday 2nd December 2013 10:56 am
Monday 2nd December 2013 10:39 am
Tags: Destiny Poets,Louis Kasatkin
by Paul Sands
consider more the price we paid
consider yet a jacket
lest your broken spine betray your age
while edges yellow, sun buffed,
tar coughed & ready rubbed,
I still allow the nicotinic stain
spread across my fingered thumbs
for every page I turn speaks of
the thousand hands that opened
each leaf and countless eyes that scanned
the edifying a...
Sunday 1st December 2013 8:48 pm
Get Flash to see this player.
At home the Christmas snow is falling
I see it clear so far away
I hear the happy voices calling
See the children at their pla...
Sunday 1st December 2013 4:37 pm
And not let their words entomb their audience's spirit,
Like the ash of Vesuvius,
For all, I'd wager; thoughts form a chaotic array,
Ranging subject, tone and even imagery or music,
In simultaneous appearance.
Forming riotous conundrums on seas of deceptive simplicity,
Allowing the stark contrast of...
Sunday 1st December 2013 4:29 pm
Also by Joshua Van-Cook:Ghosts | Thursday Morning | Journey |
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