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A n attempt to bamboozle him.

D irecting the abomination

I nto my inner soul.

S corn, in the flame of passion,

A ffection going nowhere.

G iving way to struggle, looking for a

R eason to cherish

E very yearning.

E nding this bitter taste,

M aking this relationship

E stranged.

N ever will it bloom

T o a tender love.

© Hazel

...

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We'll have completed a year of Pop Up Poetry soon. We've made so many good friends among the talented people that have come to the Bar des Arts in 2012! We're looking forward to inviting some of them back in 2013, when we'll be hosting the event on the third Tuesday of every month.

Looking back over the year, there have been too many highlights to name all of them separately - the Antipoet ...

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This is from my samples section...

Individuality, Categories 1 – 7

I was only playing at burning up
For the glamour before the real demise
Whilst always trying to collect enough words to support a world
To craft a way of living
With myself and all of you, we
The collectors of experience
Have no enduring capsule in which to save them all

Always, all around, p...

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Little mouse wriggling like a worm

Dangling swaying to and fro

Bouncing buns with giant coat hooks

Floppy cushioned hairy chubby cheeks

Each issued with a recognized number

Placed upon each private part

Streaking in any particular numerical order 

Drunks stagger from the Nelson

Determined to strip and join in 

Badly torn shirts ripped jeans

With a trail o...

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                    Butter

I have been beaten,

Beaten up too much

So much that I am punch-drunk,

I ain’t so much - a wordsmith

Ain’t so much a technician

On the renditions of a song

Still,

I know within the bounds

I have left of me

The utterance of magic

That bereft of me

There’s still an ember

Still a decent thinking

Tha...

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Daggers in your eyes

tempered by words of fire

and flames from your tongue

puncture my heart

deep.

Tears trickle

roll and meander

sealing my lips

healing my wounds.

As is love...As love is

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The Bricklayer

Bleeding knuckles, torn nails,

the wall about his bed remained.

Uniforms passed through, ghosts,

changing drips, injecting morphine

that killed the pain but not the past.

The bricklayer had made his bed.

Mum and Dad had dug the footings

of his wall, his fort, his prison.

Piss in his cot, poo in his pants.

Don’t touch your penis ...

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(Check out the fabulous vocals of Grace Slick on Jefferson Airplane's original. Lewis Carroll meets Psychedelia)

One speed makes it faster and one speed nearly stalls

And knob that makes it waggle will drive you up the walls

And call,  “Rabbit”, and hang on to its balls.

And you keep another Rabbit safely tucked inside your smalls

A replacement for the firs...

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Not looking at anybody doesn’t mean not to see,

To do the things you like doesn’t mean to be free.

To be at the very verge of life doesn’t mean to die.

And standing on the ground doesn’t mean not to fly.

And how much to pepper so that all could be well?

And how much to sugar to sweeten  the hell?

To live a normal life doesn’t mean not to dream.

But how long to ...

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Inflow of confetti, brings happiness and fun

Newly wed romance in the November sun

From the valley of dreams, mid the hills and dales

Azure the sky and green the vales

Tantalizing melodies in the afternoon air

Unaware of love lingering everywhere

Against the backdrop of a cloudless sky

The snow capped mountain stands so high

Infatuation or love? A beautiful...

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A farewell to two poets that have only just passed on: Sandra Fowler and Sonya Florentino. R.I.P., dear friends.

 

`



Yes, I will try to be brave
just like you'd want me to be;
here I am waiting on shared memory:


Dear old friend, where might you be?
And where is it that we have arrived:
now we're quickly fading into oft-turned pag...

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When A Cat Goes Out

He’d patrol the doorway waiting

To make his break

Or he’d scratch around the threshold 

As if he could dig himself out

All he knew was out was where

He wanted to be

When the opportunity

Was right he’d bolt

When he went out that last time

Looking for whatever he craved

Then attempted to return

There was no there

There anymore

No familiar...

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It was written that you would be my life,

my imagination, my fugitive heat

That you would be the moon in my nights,

the sun of my days, the exuberant passion

It was written ...

That I would be holy water on your lips,

all your reasons, all the follies that walk through your mind

I dream, living on the edge of your lips and in this scenar...

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For digging in

Statuesque and patient

Giving me the rope

But holding the other side,

For caving in

Graciously and reserved

Showing me the door

But leaving the light on,

For diving in

Desperate and afraid

Throwing me the ring

Throwing me the ring

Throwing me the ring

And never expecting a catch,

For having eyes...

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Jill was on a diet and a stone had lost,

Needed a new dress asked what the material would cost.

Jill was attractive blue eyed and dark,

"Only one kiss per yard ," smirked the young male clerk.

"Thats fine I'll take ten yards ." said smiling Jill,

And got her 90 year old grandad to pay the bill.

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Who knows why

  the bullet missed, or

  the woman kissed?

Who knows why

  the volcano blew, or

  she loves you?

Do you know why

  a stream runs dry, or

  he makes you cry?

What’s the reason for

  the plight of the poor, or

  the knock on the door?

Can you explain

  the roll of the dice, or

  the emotional price?

Who knows why

  bee...

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'ThePoetry Spoke'

Great poetry and acoustic music

This Tuesday - 27th November - doors open 8pm!

La Gondola

22a Liscard Crescent

Wallasey- The Wirral

CH44 1AE (a stones throw over the Mersey from Liverpool)

Check us out in the gig guide...

Our Guest Poet

Roger Cliffe-Thompson

His front room was once a reconstructed crime scene (Ala...

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Awaited awakening

loose lipped, tight tipped

Injecting deep into me

formaldehyde of jealousy

 Rhythmic warm chill

presses on pulsating throat

sticky skin anoints

soothing balm of obssession

Surrender fills silence

thighs pillow dormant anger

your cunning apology

having resentfully missed me

tendrilled fingertip...

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Pennines, bleak and cold,

Scarps of grit stone, grim and bold,

Harbouring bog moors, remote and forlorn,

Cauldron, where grey winds are born.

See the falling rain curtain close behind the crag,

See the steaming cloud veil cover the hills in clag,

See the drifting hail column sweep across the lake,

See the swirling snow storm of the vale forsake.

With ...

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Like stars of a dark midnight

The hours we share glow with sweet teasing;

Not the trembling idiocy of an undisciplined heart,

Nor the whipped frenzy of unreliable passion,

But the pleasing consideration of my mind.

I know nothing about you except the baldly obvious.

I have watched you for months,

Observing your vulnerabilities,

Admiring your strengths.

...

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If I'm a fish, then your a bird, he said or she said or too be honest me. I am dodgy with paper. Anything I can find. I'm not a fish.

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The soul of an artist,

famine or harvest.

An exercise in extremity,

symmetric serenity.

Raw yet crafted

a tool made from bone

fleshed out by interpreting existence.

The soul of an artist,

famine or harvest.

An exercise in extremity,

symmetric serenity.

A fusion of real and surreal

a soulful symbiote

intertwined with their v...

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WINTER GIVING

It’s a funny old world,

In the way that it’s turned,

With the truths that we own,

And the lies that we learned

We believed in creation,

That story just fine,

Then along came Charles Darwin,

Just spinning his line?

There’s god in his heaven,

That’s somewhere above,

And we’re showered with mercy

Unparalleled love.

...

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I was asked for a poem for the newsletter the churches here send out to all the houses in the town at Christmastime. This is what I gave them and they printed. I think it's reasonably good, though it could probably still be improved here and there.

I think I see defences start to crack;
this world shall hear, and see that I am right.
The pawns pass round to right the rook's attack
ad...

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We're very excited about the next event we're running in Guildford at the Bar des Arts, opposite the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre. It's on Tuesday 20th November, and you can find it on the Gig Guide. It's the only good thing about my turning 21 again the next day - this is my pre-birthday party!

We have five guests, four of whom have been to the Bar  as features before and one whom we've met at se...

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Clatter of shuttle and rattle of looms

Shattered the peace of the weaving rooms

In Yorkshire and Lancashire’s high rolling hills,

Where masses of mill lasses chattered in mills

Tripping and clopping in crude wooden clogs

Under the fast-running drive-belts and cogs

Which powered machinery, oily and rough,

Manufacturing worsted and cotton and cloth.

Yet the b...

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It wasn’t that her parents wouldn’t attend

because the wedding clashed with Remembrance Day

and poppies exerted a powerful hold;

nor that my Best Man was newly diagnosed

as a schizophrenic cum manic depressive –

though we were both in two minds about that.

Neither that my brother-in-law turned up

in a T-shirt bearing the legend

                    Bullshit

ov...

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I dreamt I had a friend,
She was perfect for me:
Glittering between my sheets,
As I lay numbed by my pillow.
She poured to me, dreadlocks tumbling
Wrapped me with tanned arms,
Understood my need for peace and love,
Knew me and what I wanted,
Gave me the jewellery that best becomed me,
Bracelets and bangles of wood and gold,
A breastplate of precious stones:
More a de...

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When reading someone's blog, you can now go directly to their profile by clicking on their name - the large green letters next to the photo spot. Try it and see! and let us know if it's useful. Don't if it's not :-)

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The white glare stares cold onto your eyes

Tiny words crawl through your intrigued mind 

Invisible opnions make choices without proof

Connections creep from your invisible speeches 

Type.

Tiny words spin out above the earth

Invisble speeches bounce back to your heart

The white glare stares back onto your eyes

Both Connected by invisible speeches 

Type. 

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I know these aren't new!

As more work has been done on the Group Profiles software (thank you , lads) I am consolidating the translated works that reside on our site into the Poetry in Translation Group. This is in anticipation of our developing the translation work further, of getting more people to set up their own group profiles- for writing groups or for event organizers, and of further...

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He punches at a name in stone

as if the warmth of knuckle and fist

could penetrate the cold,

a brother’s arm plunge deep

beyond the gilt

to find its home

curled up in sleep

upon an ocean bed

connect with flesh and bone.

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Another busy day, another busy week

There must be more to life than working week to week.

I’d like to jack the whole lot in and buy a campervan: I’d drive leisurely down to France and maybe even Spain

Nothing would be too much trouble, nothing would be a pain

Some days I’d have baked beans for tea or maybe fillet steak

And they’ll be days when I’m going far too f...

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There were flags, and a few maps.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.

A soldier and wife, with haggard look.

The convict, and boy with violin.

The river’s level drifting breadth began.

Things moved. I sat back, staring at my boots.

For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

Letters of thanks, letters from banks.

And for that minute a blackbird sang.

...

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This is the start,

Though it feels like the end.

Alone,

Moved away from falls from graces and friends.

A mixture,

Of social and sexual depravity,

Driving Me.

I need to find a way to overcome a force 5 times gravity.

In this state,

It's easy to fall into past mistakes.

Like Peruvian towns,

Rebuilt on the sites of earthquakes.

Got ...

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It is said the word was added.                                   
Above the door.
After being liberated.

there will be a handprint ingrained
where she tripped for a moment.
 
Above the door.                                                              
After being liberated.
It is said the word was added.

for a moment she stumbled and the
handprint wa...

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Pop Up Poetry at the Bar des Arts in Guildford in October succeeded in raising £70 for Oxfam through voluntary donations at what is normally a free night of poetry, songs and spoken word. We had a great time, with the Leano, Cathy Flower and Steve Pottinger adding their magic to a line up of fantastic open mic contributors, including some new faces whom we're looking forward to inviting back as...

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Take that!

As I pass then parry with haste

You may be much bigger

but your size is a waste.

Take that and twice more

As I parry with plume

You’ll never defeat me

you say with a boom.

And back you swine!

I assert with a lunge

And back, and back,

away you vile gunge.

Mal-parry and I wince

His line it fell true

Redoublement ...

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Next Tuesday

what with the weather being lousy

and the nights drawing in

and the rent being due

and the electricity bill hitting the floor

and going through the roof at the same time

and feeling in need of a mid-morning pick me up

to shore up my morale,

I’m going to put on my rain gear

head into town

walk into Starbucks

and smile at the ba...

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Take that!

As I pass then parry with haste

You may be much bigger

but your size is a waste.

Take that and twice more

As I parry with plume

You’ll never defeat me

you say with a boom.

And back you swine!

I assert with a lunge

And back, and back,

away you vile gunge.

Mal-parry and I wince

His line it fell true

R...

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(A birthday celebration)

When did it happen Linda?

You were not so yesterday.

(How strange: the way

The young bud unnoticed grows,

Then at the break of it`s appointed day

Is suddenly a rose)

Was it the moon, last night,

Serene from the lovely zenith of her height,

Worked this white

Bewilder – witchery,

Most secretly

I...

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The fish was from another time; in my time he was dead.

I stopped to look him up and down, he stared right back and said,

There’s consternation on your face, perhaps I should explain.

Keep it simple, I implored, don’t cabbage out my brain.

The explanation you require is one of elegance

And for a fish so dead, I thought he spoke with eloquence.

I sense your dread, the dea...

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Stain   

Stainless Sister

Aunt and chums over tea and cakes

sifting through ancient snaps

admit my mother’s memory into childhood reminiscences,

the adult years not speaking skirted

like a giant turd.

The sisters’ last ‘Good Bye’, aunt skype waving

from her front window at the woman, in the clapped out Ford,

barely able to lift her cancer co...

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