An historically accurate account of a conversation between the King and one of his courtiers.

“Prithee, knave, what scribe you there,

By candlelight and fire?”

“Your immortality’s the toil

On which I labour, sire.

For future generations

Your life and legacy

Transcribed upon these parchments

Your obituary.”

“And does this legacy descri...

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This is what friends are about

Use
And abuse
Throw to the side
When you use them, you decide
Always there when you need
Asleep, awake or even when you eat
But when you find one better than this
Throw away, recycle or even dismiss
As after that they'll get in the way
And you already have a new one to put in display
 

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Exhumed the dead.

Made various things

Out of humans.

Bowls, clothes,

Necklaces, lampshades.

Then began to kill.

Bodies strung

Upside down

Like animal carcus.

Decapitated.

Ten skulls found in the kitchen.

Decaying faces

Hanging on the wall. Some

With lipstick drawn on them

And a shoebox of noses.

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Of what mechanisms, are we?

I reach in and grab your tonsil.

From a mime, I learnt such conversations

of a back and forth, and a back and forth –

a batted ball, a wall, of a mouth and a hand –

 make clockwork,

a life’s work.

At your feet I sit, imagining your knots

are tangerines, dropping fizzing

pills straight into my stomach,

where they gr...

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`



the old crow
that blotted out the sun
perched upon a fencepost
and made faces
I have only ever seen
with nose pressed
against the pane
as I spied
fallen leaves taken
onto the saddle
of a chilling breeze
to where tomorrow
could not yet be





`

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retirement

You found them.

White lipped in the bath

like strawberries and cream

floating, bloated

at the edges of reservoirs

swaying, plum faced,

a rope’s length away

broken winged

below the bridges

curled like foetuses

at the sharp end of a needle

the blank-eyed children

who’d never learned to laugh

the crimson smear

below...

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small, chubby hands
pat, dimples winking

she scoops again,
spade quivering.

little by little
grain upon grain

and then complete,
driftwood beacon atop.

tide threatens awhile,
weakening, taunting.

her castle crumbles
and washes away
with the lowering sun.

driftwood beacon
left behind.

 

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Does anyone know owt about poetry slams going in the north west these days? 

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Today I have been holding the hand of the model maker.

With my brush I attempt to make good -

as they say.

He died soon after he finished

a wonderful re-incarnation

of our lost harbour.

He made it as light relief while working on

some effigy of violence.

That was his real job.

I like to think of him

losing himself in ...

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Too blue in my head,

In another life

I could have loved you

But this life

Has us both hard beaten.

We have closed  too many doors

so this woman

Will quietly  steal your words

and run away

hold them tight, and close .

Knowing  they will hold the answer

In another life.

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Sparrows are not noted,

For killing cows you know,

Anywhere there are sparrows,

A cow is safe to go.

(c) Ledger de la Bald

(Painting (c) Karen de la Bald)

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                                     Deny the Lie, Only on Your Own Request

            There can be no mitigation for The Earth,

And though I venture not all upon these soils

Court the forms of battle,

Power from abusers – corrupts every bludgeoned heart.

            We have a planet!

It needs a cordon to protect a universe of stars,

And when...

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When I hear someone say:

Oh! You look so nice today!

I answer without any delay:

I would look much better

If I wore another sweater.

Or something like that:

Oh, dear! Don’t tell me lies!

Look at my eyes!

I would look much better

If I was not ill.

But…still…

Let’s have a bet!

Let’s make some offset!

When I feel better

And really look ...

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in the crepuscular wash of sodden November

ambiguous buildings in damp lethargy

lean over militant shoulders

umbrella bonneted

cast eyes glare pavement blinded

pragmatic heels bark through pools

dogged determination

crammed trams and insular buses

wheels hissing

r...

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 Over and over and over again

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Is there anything like a bath?

This wonderful, warm womb

in which the weary wash away what irks them

to the sound of small grunts of cosseted pleasure.

A throne!

A tub of splendour,

in which aching limbs can luxuriate

and from which tired minds may survey the world.

I'm not choosy,

don't need a jacuzzi.

Just soap and bubbles

to forget my...

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Find a dish

Add sauce

Slither and slide in sauce

for about 5 years

stirring only

when absolutely necessary

Wonder whether you need children

Worry that you haven't any children

Add 4 children

Mix

Wonder if 4 children are enough

Add 2 more children

Mix

Flavour generously

with cats, dogs, rats, hamsters,

mice...

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The harsh beep of the alarm clock

destroys our dreams,

we force our eyes open

splitting the crust at the seams.

Rusty we stand – shaken, brave,

weak, scared,

curing the scars and bruises

for the day and night shifts,

burying a billion excuses to call in sick

our subconscious scratching at the stitches

so carefully woven

over a thousand past li...

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Recorded live on Soundart Radio.

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The velvet dusted sleeve of night

Dark and darker yet to light the moon

Bejewelled silken cuff of ocean

Whets the appetite of dream

Vivid beneath all heavens splendour

Vivid beneath satin dancing splashes

Soft agin warm earth's mantle

Skirts of bright embroidered ruby

Skirts of bright all jet and golden

Rose lace billows petticoat dawn...

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If you've not discovered the Poetry Explosion Newsletter of Pittsburgh now is the time. Also the Bow Wow Shop, which is the British equivalent. Just google the appropriate names and the rest is easy. Not many things in life are easy, but this is.

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I always wanted an extraordinary life,

and I think that I’ve

never been able to accept its

lack of meaning.

I wanted purpose and reason but

there is none.

It’s all run out, been taken,

been used up by the

brave.

It’s a con.

So I want nothing,

I am not interested either way.

I have grown bored.

I cannot heal or roll over,

...

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This year I have a pamphlet of poetry coming out with the award winning press, Flipped Eye.  It's endorsed by the T. S. Elliot prizewinner, George Szirtes.

If you would like to sign up to receive more information about the pamphlet please visit this link: http://eepurl.com/cIqjw.

Max Wallis

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There’s a tropical isle, Gran Canaria,

Famed for sun, sea and sand –

Mavis and Fred flew over,

To escape Lancashire’s cold winter land.

Mavis said, “Eee, ‘tis hot in these woolly tights,

Let’s find summer shorts that flatter me bum

Throw away beiges and blacks,

Colour up, like the sky and the sun!”

She returned like a red hibiscus

(And that were only her face...

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In Therapy

There ain’t no guessing why it’s in Harpurhey

Where all the Mams who drag prams are on ESA

And depression clings to all the buildings

And they’re Manchester’s biggest exporter

Where suicidal thoughts seep between the bricks and mortar

And knives on skin is just one of those daily things

And they eat cold paranoia for dinner

That’s where I d...

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What a honky-tonking, stonking

Poetry performing, barnstorming

Guitar-strum, maelstrom,

Meek and haughty

cello and piano-their-forte

All-singing, all-words-dancing,

Dynamic, eclectic, electric

Night it was at Kilburn’s Catweazle

When I visited.

No causal link, nor said in drink

I just think

It was.

North London Tavern,

comes alive, this ...

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If you want someone to
walk you home late at night
I would happily do it
But I do think to might
Want to consider another
if you’re scared of trouble
as when it comes to self defence
I think I might struggle
But with running away screaming
My instinctive reaction
You could count on me
for the perfect distraction
Though not likely get you
Home safe, free of harm
Think...

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Flicker dripping wick

gently basking in amber:

solidified wisp.

Haiku by Petrova and Elaine

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Is that why?

I bled

for so many years with the pain reminiscent of childbirth

and cried with longing and loss

the empty hollow and the useless womb

Is that why

I ached

and found each day weighed heavier than the last

and my body dried and drained

and my world shrank to a parody

Is that why

I killed

Tiny webbed fingers a hea...

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He had it coming don't you know?

He deserved everything he got.

The bastard shouldn't have done it;

all the way into town I'd had to go.

She'd gone on and on and made a fuss;

to shut her up I got on the bus,

i even took a shopping list;

her sister's coming with the kids.

Just get some of those fancy cakes,

the ones with icing and a cherry on top,

with cre...

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i call her freedom.....because the feeling im receiving is healing,

i feel her beaming a brightness, so rightious,

and when im fightless, shes the force that lifts this flightless, frightened, fighter,

and the chains aint tight enough for libertys lips,

emancipated by her infinite kiss,

its an intimate twist of fate,

i was a prisoner of war behind barbed wire gates,

...

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Once there was a hapless thief

Who didn’t have a clue.

He heard that Gants Hill station safe

Would be the one to do.

For a start he got the station wrong,

He turned up at Grange Hill,

A quiet little station,

Their takings virtually nil.

He arrived with enough explosives

To blow up half the street,

Never mind about just the safe,

His ma...

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The Silent Lake

Dark, brown, murky waters
Disguised by the attractive
Waterlilies, pond weeds.
Surrounded by lush grass
And spring flowers.

Beneath the tranquil surface
Lies a sickening past
Of a life, an infant
Stolen from the arms
Of a naive guardian.

Drowned in old fashioned ways
A sin worse than death
Disposed of like an old toy
Ignoring the throaty s...

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I don’t want to wake you
When you’re sleeping so quiet
on my shoulder.

I don’t want to brush your
Hair back down from your face
or turn down the stereo.

I don’t want to sing in
the rain nor do I want
to sail away into the sunset.

I don’t want to close the curtains
and shut out the moon
Shining down on us
Like we are in the spotlight
of some imaginary film.

...

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The powers that be

Must be a-head of me

'Cos it's just beyond a joke

When they called it a "stroke"

Glad to be alive

Even though I only work

Down one side

I'm not bitter

I'm not sad

But sometimes I get quite mad

Nurses come with water and a pill!

Where am I??

Will I die??

I'm a grown man and I'm starting to cry!!!!

"You've had a stroke, yo...

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In revolt:

Those that condemn a lie,

pave the faltering ground-

Those that stand their ground, 

hold up the louring sky.

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What’s this feeling?
Is it nerves,
Which puts me close up to this kerb,
I might slip up abit on the verbs,
But its ok I got me herbs.

I fill the drop in the back of my throat,
Butterflies uplifting, like water for a boat,
I’m reading this to you I hope I don’t chock,
But you know what I don't care.

I don't care what you think,
I don't care what you drink,
I don't car...

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Throwing away another spent calendar
I'm tossing another slice of my heart into the wind
I'm still waiting...

I feel all I have known is the length of this wait
and all I've been doing is biding worthless time
and still waiting...

What difference has it made to me, this waste
what have I gained so far for my blind patience
and still waiting...

Oh, nine years...
Nine...

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It's so very touching

the way you taunt

and tease me

with your tightly pursed lips

and your expanding hips

It's so touching

It's so touching

watching you shave

your fuzzy black hair

that sprouts everywhere

only to come back as stubble

It's so touching

It's so very touching

to see you fill out your top

th...

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I can recall a manic monday

It was a rainy day in the month of June

Wait and return to a sixties and seventies tune

I recall silly jokes I used to send

usually on a Wednesday afternoon

and the 'almost' instant responses

I can recall barmy Summer nights

sitting on imitation leather chairs, laughing

about slippers and sweaty socks in odd pairs

...

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I think this is how I advertise gigs, isn't it? 

This is a quick one to say that I'm reading at Paradox at Fuel in Withington on Saturday evening, should be a wonderful do. Also one of my favourite current poets Michael Wilson is reading too, I'm excited about that. 

That's all I have to say for now. 

Happy writing, all. 

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The delayed day when I'd replay each chapter line and verse
when every tear of four long years would flood and then submerse
came upon a blast Fen morn ring fenced with questions why
confined by all I had resigned, capped by the bowler sky
the wind dried earth reflected there a lifeless fragile heart
each step she made would so degrade until it fell apart
despite the plot I just cou...

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The  Wonder  of  Me

When no one at all can understand me

When everybody says I’m wrong

I have the hope that finds redemption

I’ve got the strength to carry on

And I’m always there to save the world

Like the messiah I must be

But that’s the wonder

The wonder of me!

And when I shine, the world gets brighter

I have more power than the...

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Sometimes, love is

a cappuccino moustache
you don't know you have
which I kiss away

as we leave the cafe
and never tell you was there.

Love just has to touch your bum
as you delve into the freezer
to find the bargain peas
and the ice-cream that you like.
 

It brushes your hand as, between us,

we find the incorrect change.
You peer into your purse
as I fumb...

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The great power of love is not in the mind,
but deep in our hearts which can ache muchly sometimes.
The passions we feel are beyond thought to control,
some say it's our hormones, some say it's the soul.

To only live in the shallows without loves warm glow,
is to be beached like a whale with nowhere to go,
the depths may bring some sorrows and pain on the way,
yet we all get th...

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Black crows and a white stone

symbols of eternity

and our small life flows

somewhere noone knows

with or without dignity

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Poor clouds hanging down

Like damp clothes on a line.
Inside a grey hotel room

On Euston Road
Rereading a copy of Ovid 
And trying to recollect

The year 1998 when we first met.
Outside the air is cold.
The sky is moving quickly,
The wind tugging 
The last of the day along.

Nothing is defined.
We’re always becoming,
En route between two points 
End...

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These pieces of me can't interact,

they are cracked

into shards

splitting like glass.

My mind is breaking up into pieces,I am literally cracking up

while the stress is mounting

my heart is exploding like a fountain.

I am deluded my mind can't cope with explanations

haystacks without needles.

What am I but despair incarnate?

the clothes I wear the only rem...

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Here are the stats for January 2011.

    * 4,069 registered members

    * 1.9 million hits

    * 3,094 log-ins to the site - a record!!!

    * 142 new events put on gig guide

    * 106 events updated on gig guide

    * 15 poets added their profiles to the Poets' Showcase

    * 855 Poets are now on the Showcase

    * 194 poets' profiles where updated on th...

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 He stands in line like a trusting child

 Who dares not ask permission. Envelope

In a tight-white hand, held to his chest.

An electronic voice, dog-like and flat,

Summons the line forward a step.

His overcoat is unraveling like an old flag,

And his thoughts are too: torn things,

Out of place, which is why he has them

Quarantined in stiff manila A4.

...

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