MY ‘H’

 

Like Norman Nicholson about to enter space

I thought I’d come back on and say

I will soon give up on words

and take up the wordless poem,

having developed an unique style

of stress-relieving, acid-casualty doodles…

they are elegant at every turn of the pen,

and would seem tribal to you.

Before I do that I thought I should empty my heart,

relate somethin...

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There’ll come a time in days ahead

we must anticipate with dread

for all the tears that will be shed

so bitterly.

When wars at last are so widespread

that no one’s free.

 

Behold the future bathed in red,

with millions maimed and countless dead,

while you lie safely in your bed

and will not see;

the dreams for which our forbears bled

will never be.

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This isn't gonna be your feelgood story. 

It's also not really 'bout human glory. 

See, how I am of royal genes. 

Ten thousands of years, that's what it means. 

My ancestors were brothers and sisters alike. 

They impregnated all, just to keep us alive. 

So here we are now, as the sol survives. 

This isn't the Earth where everything thrives. 

So this is the Patriarch Legacy....

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The Waterway

I am in the water

Just one drop

Yet a vital piece

of the world’s oceans

And when it’s my time

To return 

I will move with the wave

Back into the blue

To become the rain

The snow

The place

where ancient whales roam

And microscopic life feeds

All the creatures great and small

I will move back through the people

I love as cold relief on a h...

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You don't have to understand,

that's what they said.

Just believe, have faith,

don't doubt the things

that God has planned. 

                                        that's what they said.

 

You are blessed,

faith is a gift

given to a a chosen few,

it's up to you

to make the best of it.

                                        That's what they said.

 

Humil...

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Gone to the wasteland

the jobbing carpenter

with his bag of tools:

hammer chisels saw and rules,

gone too the roll-your-own

flat cap leather shoes

A to Z list of names

gone up in flames. 

 

Instead a man in an unmarked van

trousers with velcro panels

power tools the smell of pizza

mobile phone with battery on charge

prey to thieves always at large.

 

Th...

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#WorldCurlewDay2025

 

I am not your enemy dear messenger,

but still your intent feels murderous.

 

And though your reckless,

adrenaline fuelled passes and dopplered cries

have sent these old instincts into full flight mode,

my head disappearing into my shoulders,

my sixty-year-old body separated from my bicycle

to lie expediently on this damp grassy bank,

I...

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Sixteen years pass so quick

It seems like only yesterday

I said hello then goodbye

To my loving stillborn Grandson.

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Dispensed

I am set out

Coalesced of moving parts

Both torrent and trickle will serve

 

Contained

I am caught up

Cicadian chirrups are deafening

From inside and without, the promise is unbearable

 

Consumed

I am taken within

Decent manoeuvres belying ambrosia

Resolved by the passing, I have enjoyed myself.

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There's a timid bloom

Bursting now through the concrete--

--A tiny triumph...

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Out of frame

Outside the box

the feathers continue to 

 

fall

 

on cigarette ash

where the marks

Of love’s desire came and burnt

 

The softness and subtlety at which they

 

fall

 

silently are disturbed by the noise

Of the men simultaneously cumming

 

And they continue to

 

fall

 

onto the back

Of the male muscular torso frame

 

...

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On Easter Sunday

we'd roll hard boiled eggs

down hillsides

their painted shells would crack,

 

the beach over-run

by happy clapping gospel missions

and donkey rides,

I knew then "He's not coming back"

 

In another land

I saw a fractured child

broken by the war

cast aside by righteous rule...

 

such an act of inhumanity

there could be

n...

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When a poet takes up arms
their quill is orphaned quick
though the pen is mightier
the sword some bards will pick

however just the cause may be
forsake their weapon true
to lose what makes them free
sad the day when all is through

 

 

 

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The Friends

The friends gather 
in your absence 
attempting to conjure 
your presence 

you remain slippery 
your nature evoked  
by its refusal 
for ever being captured

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Surely the most foolish man ever was you-know-who

He had a nice safe job working with his dad

And a rent free life with all meals provided at home

His future was assured, he should have been glad

But no...what did he do?

He decided to have a gap year at age thirty

That got extended to three

He fell in with a dodgy crowd

A bunch of blokes he knew nothing about

Did he car...

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They nailed him to a fxxxing  cross

To fxxxing die in pain and blood

Starved and thirsty dirt and piss

So we can live a life of bliss

For the peace of man 

To stop the wars 

The message is 

Love they neighbour 

Respect for life 

To stop all strife 

2000 years down line 

We still commit the fxxxing crime 

Incapable of love 

The devil wins 

He Laps up greedi...

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(A piece on the nonsense of self-identification, or pretending as we used to call it when we were kids)

 

I wish I was a lady, the prettiest on Earth

And didn't have this handicap, this cock I've had from birth;

It used to be a problem but now that's ceased to be

Cos now I self-identify, (identify) identify (identify)

And simply I now use the pronoun “She”.

 

I'd never been...

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— only love can break your heart

Translating the rain is a dangerous business,
In the past the priest or rabbi took on the mantle
Of expectation. But you knew from the very start
Which mountain range the rain came from.
Your languid, watery eyes can be deceiving in rain.
Fountains are rain corralled, water on show. I’m tempted
Into sleeping on your neck. A servitude of roses suffices.
...

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Poem 174 of 230:  TYNE-VALLEY CIRCLES - AUTUMN 2001

 

The ringed homing of pigeon;

    The telescopic gasworks,

Which alter the horizon;

    There’s what could be, for some, perks -

Chopper-journeys as sight-sources,

    And advanced driving courses;

Plus, on our flats’ thermals,

    The circling flights of seagulls.

 

(C) David Franks 2003 - https://walkaboutsvers...

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"What do you consider to be, for you personally a very important word?"

The psychoanalyst looked at her client, she repeated the question thinking taht 

perhaps he had not heard

But the young man in the wheelchair looked straight at her without blinking

He held her gaze for a second, then "an" and again mpre emphatically "AN"

"Anne?" She echoed with a somewhat bemused smile

She w...

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I have no true friends, nobody to care.
I’m not alone in this, it’s not very rare.
Lots of lonely people feel the same.
But should we feel a sense of shame?
An admission of guilt, to some it seems.
A life were friendship comes in dreams.
Am I my worst enemy, yes probably so?
I'm a very complex man to get to know.
I am a fragile man, deep down inside.
Emotions to display...but tears to h...

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Fatma Hossana,

her truth, in photos at Cannes,

murdered in Gaza.

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Not long ago, you’d be thought eccentric,

If you chose to buy a full electric,

But internal combustion’s had its day;

That’s what the men in the showrooms now say.

It cruises at speed, with no CO2,

For years after purchase it runs like new;

And plugging it in is no longer naff,

As you relax in the motorway caff.

Green credentials are part of its appeal;

You’re an eco-war...

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To whom does he belong, this strangler fig? 

I have not invited him, no not i.

Well I am appalled at his tendrils and vice grip,

And that gleam he has in his eye.

To whom does he belong, this strangler fig?

You would not welcome him, no not you.

Well you not once ever knew of his arrival,

If so, you would have seen right through.

 

What good is this strangler fig?

He’...

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A giant rises — towering, proud, severe, Yet check the sun before you yield to fear; For oft a dwarf, by stretching out his hand, Can throw a giant's shadow on the land. It is not the wind that drives the course you sail; The set of your own sails will tell the tale. The storm may roar, the sky may fall to grey — The sail decides if you advance or stray. The clever man will not o...

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I belong to empty pages and unwritten stories

I belong on the top shelf you haven’t visited in months

I belong under the bed, collecting dust

I belong to no one

 

I belong to ignorance when I won’t accept the truth

I belong to madness when I hear your name

I belong to silence when I’ve had enough

I belong to no one

 

I belong to affection like a rare birthday hug

I...

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It was 3 a.m., but the orders were piling up

on the chrome-plated spinning rack.

 

One customer sent their plate back.

"Wants more peas.",

Moon, the waitress said.

 

I didn't get angry.

I felt there was a kind of sadness

within the request.

 

I don't particularly like peas,

but everyone got plenty of them after that.

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At Check-in the Speedy Boarders checked in first

but then suffered a setback at Security

held up by the Hoi Polloi

(Not so hoity toity now)

 

At Gate 8 the Speedy Boarders sped ahead

only to linger for longer in the holding area

 

Onto the transfer bus faster

but then a mini disaster

as the Commoners piled in after

and beat them onto the plane

which bored the he...

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Behind the tarnished gilt-barred cage,

The little songbird sang of love as yet unpaged,

Whistling tunes from the songbook of life, 

Cutting through the chilled dawn as with a knife.

 

He sang of despair, but sang also of hope.

He sang with depth and with far-reaching scope.

He shrilled to the heavens for love to come,

Though he willed his trills, the sky remained mum.

 

...

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What is it that I leave behind?
Echoes that proclaim I was here?
Growing ever more faint in time.
Why do I crave acknowledgement
That my time was well spent here?

I send out my voice.
The wind carries it where it will.
But I ask myself what matters more..
A legacy that lives on into the future
Or that I live... where I am right now.



Written April 2025

 

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Beautiful friend,

I send you love.

If I could wrap joy

in a package, 

I would mail it off to you.

If I could plant peace

in your garden,

I would show up with shovel in hand.

But none of this is mine for the giving,

tho' it is ours for the wishing.

And, always, I can send you love,

and this I do,

ceaselessly.

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Reinvention. 

 

In the corner stands my father

Shuffling in the shadows

The scent of tobacco stains the air

And he chuckles without a care

 

On the sofa sits my mother

Swift hands collecting flowers

Her smile outshines the sun

Her worries, they’ve all gone

 

On the staircase leans my brother

He is gazing at his mother

And grinning at my father

They seem...

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My daddy never loved me 
He couldn't say the word 
All I wanted was attention 
But my voice was never heard
My daddy never loved me 

My daddy never loved me 
All I wanted was praise
I can still remember the feeling
Even after a lifetime of haze
My daddy never loved me 

My daddy never loved me 
I tried to make him proud
His generation were a different breed
I was always under a sad...

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Miles between, yet souls align,
He’s the moon, and still he’s mine.

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Dear friends!

      Read my poem in the comments.

                         Regards

                         Larisa

   

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Staring at your puffy face in the cot,

I realize all the hurt I’ve been carrying in my heart.

Forgive me, my dear child; I suppose I didn’t know,

Didn’t know that the ghosts of my past still haunt me, even now.

Forgive me, my dear child, 

If I’m unable to love you maternally—with tenderness and warmth,

To love you like other children are loved.

Forgive me, my child, 

If tra...

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My school bag used to be torn.
My mother patiently sewed it,
stitch by stitch, she arranged it neatly,
connecting one side to the other, she made it whole again.

She said that sewing is a way to be grateful for what we have,
so it won’t end up as something forgotten,
but remain as something cherished.

As I grew up,
I began to practice what she taught.
One by one, I sewed the rips I ha...

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(with acknowledgements to Cubby Broccoli)

We’ve a new allotment holder

Just retired from MI6

Wears a Beretta on his shoulder

Calls our lady members “chicks”

Drives a silver coloured DB5

He won’t get much in that

When he has to transport compost

From his Docklands penthouse flat

 

He takes his Martini shaken,

In his shed he keeps a score

Of days spent with psych...

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We mark the historic 80th anniversary of VE Day,

A tribute to those who fought. for the freedom we enjoy today.

We celebrate 80 years of peace since the end of World War 11,

Reaffirming our commitment to world war peace for our future  generations too.

 

A powerful reminder of the resilience and unity that have brought our nation together,

Reaffirming our commitment for our futur...

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I had the best dream

Where I was out to my dad

And we were

Laughing at responses

That my teachers had

 

One teacher said that 

My egg was cracked

And that’s true

But it has been 

Since I met him

Although those two things

Have no correlation

 

I mean when I had him 

it was online school

he never made do anything 

Because he was cool

So I spent m...

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Marseille

“Absurdity is purity my loves” said the wise Monsieur Sinclair to his pupils. “Yet the creativity in the nuances is but a ripple upon the fabric of time.” They all applauded having no idea what the hell he means. But they love it anyway. Cerebral confusion to make one think. Is there meaning in this, is there meaning in anything at all?

 Young Pierre Dellatonte sauntered home that ...

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Beautiful to be fallen in a love with you my beloved

A union two twin flames

theirs
one old soul’s
shared nostalgia

about
our actions, how we react
an intertwined mind
quale, in the way we act
an ordeal with life
born into circumstance

chaotic
the conundrum
all of the elements and alignments required
the complexity of an immaculate conception
the manifestation of a woman and...

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Other night cliambimg the walls and yet I still feel as low as the floor 

Other night pacing up and down going know fast 

Other night of no sleep dreaming of all the things I could do to them people who disgust me 

Does your false postion help you sleep 

Does judging me make you feel bigger 

I do apologise for its ke whos about to judge 

Isn't ot crazy how big the world is yet I ...

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america belong to america
america belong to a city nation
america belong to the streets of america
america belong to the streets of a city nation
the streets of america is the streets of a city nation
the streets is the violence of america
the streets is the violence of a city nation

a city nation is a country nation
a city nation is a glory city nation
violence is a glory violence
vio...

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‘FASCINATION’

By the Urban Poet

She fascinates me, challenges me

Every time I see her, or think of her

I’m fascinated

She only has to look at me or make a sound

and I’m dumbstruck, mumble a few futile words, and make my excuses

What I know about her is very little,

but fascinating all the same

Her look, tone of voice, elegant demeanour

Who wouldn’t be fascinated?

I...

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​​​​​ñ Pa se liefde vir sy seun

Droewige verdriet

dit is al wat ek voel

Was alles verniet?

is die vraag wat oor my spoel

 

My kind jy is my als

jy moet dit weet

Al leer ander jou vals

ek sal jou nooit vergeet

 

Ek sal jou beskerm

tot einde van dae

Die ander kan maar kerm

in my arms sal ek jou dra

 

Dit wat jy deurgaan

is nie jou las om te dra

D...

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On Mondays, “Magician”
feels like the answer
On Tuesdays, Maybe a teacher?

Wednesdays, I think of willy wonka—
in my mind, a chocolate factory I see
and decide “He’s the one I want to be”

3 days of dreaming weren’t enough so,
Travellers intrigue me on Thursdays,
and Firefighter is an idea of Fridays

But at the end of the day, its tiring
being indecisive, and living off steam
But I...

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When people are selling
Political schemes,
The top line will tell you
The truth of their dreams:

If someone's first sentence
Is “most folk are fools,”
They're fixing to force them
To follow their rules;

If “riches from rags”
Is the first thing they say,
Their policy's planned
To make poverty stay;

And when “right of trade”
Is the first right you're told,
They're seeking a syste...

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How beautiful is it to feel 
The moment before a touch,
The nervousness before a kiss,
The initiated small talks 
That were of a big deal;
An achievement that’d
Be written in the books,
In the form of poems 
That’d just begin to multiply 
And beautifully compile.

The one who believed was unlucky
And incapable to be loved,
Comes across the greatest form of love
For the very first tim...

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