We started at seven with everything fine

The Old People’s dance would be over by nine

We were lovely and cuddly, wise and benign

It was Christmas and things were so festive

No reason for it to get restive.

But the signs were all there when they brought out the tea

(You all get your cuppa and biscuit for free)

But the shit hit the fan when old Mrs McGee

Who ...

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http://somethingeveryday.tumblr.com

Linguistic Approaches to Love

I could reminisce about the sibilance in your uncertain sounds
the fricatives of your ‘fucks’, the vowels in your moans.
Could dot-to-dot the consonants that construct your 
harsh-angry-hate and make of them a petal, bloomed.
Could take the condemnations, the indignations
and dissolve them into sheer potential o...

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                                     Our Child

            There are not enough moments in the day,

Nor is there time to cradle every possibility

During still and twilight hours.

            Lavishly,

I dream the luxury of life

Without a quarrel,

And looking at and through

The world again in fresh revealing

            Eyes - excites

A d...

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It snuck up on me.

Madness.

Hemming my shadow.

Chunnering,

a devil on my shoulder,

whispering insanity.

Demented and Tormented

became my friends

and together we ricochet.

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I'm aching to feel the heel of my hand

held hard up against the bend in your spine,

pushing your pivotal skeletal strand

til your groin meets the vibrant heat of mine.

My insistent hips claim ownership,

 my firm palm presses your sensitive nape

coaxes an involuntary gasp from your lips,

moulding your chest to my breasts gentle shape

Each finger engulfed in that s...

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Once it was a time that glowed:

turned-up collar, hurrying through glistening, early 60s streets.

A kind of muddling, room at Odsal Top,

or summat like that;

steam train always whistling in the distance

Dashing for the bus; overcoats,

shopping bags, windows steamed up,

conductor breathless.

Running the last yards from the corner,

hammering at the ...

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I always felt so sorry for the hound

the piteous beast, alone and chained

up on the tor,

his lips and eyes lined all around.

With phosphorous.

The pain he felt was never mentioned in the book.

I never cared for young Sir Henry and his fate

when that dumb creature

with his heart so great

was imprisoned there in ruins ancient.

Distorted, tortured to i...

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Gillian – no relation –

The nation was Browned off

Until homely-you homed in.

You sent him reeling -

Now we know the real Gordon.

His line was unacceptable.

The Gaffer seems accident prone,

Flat on his face again,

Eating grumble pie

And media source.

Though momentarily thrown,

He still aspires to one. 

C.A.D. 

Notes:  This purporte...

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Apples, toffee, crab

Halloween bobbing

mouths all a- gobbing

Scrawny scouts and guides

bob a jobbing  or robbing?

Brown Owl hob-knobbing

Owl and pussycat

bobbing in a pea green boat

sticky five pound note

Bald heads in damp beds

bobbing, knobbing, throbbing, on the jobbing to the groove

mirrors on the move

Wet chests in whi...

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In the arcades and the alleyways

the fugitive take furtive drags;

what was the craze is now a malaise

and red crosses upon the white flags

bespeak a nationwide neurosis,

a corrosive obsession with health

in thrall to the No Smoking notice:

not at all at ease with itself.

They reel 'em in with Ritalin,

Big Pharma pockets the profit.

The Viagra and th...

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She,

held her self still.

And  I,

recalling her face yet-

that with my mouth

I forced the enquiry,

and argued the pressing

to her lips.

Like those wants

of wishes sated,

we had with marbled hurt

turned one back

against the other.

And now 

that was forever

-like the past-

both of us

going nowhere,

always.

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Credit for the 'difference between sanity and madness' line goes to Alan Moore, I just borrowed it:

A burning sky lights the cry,

as the world looks on.

They see the pain, the maddened stare;

they walk on and do not care.

I scream for them as much as me,

I scream for them because they can’t see,

that ‘the difference between sanity,

and madness

is ...

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The warm eye of waking day
has drifted off
now the roads are rivers
not with rain
but with the tears
crying in that wedding dress
tearing your hair out

The swell of cliche
aches in my teeth
the sea froze over
not with winter
but with the pain
of pulling off that ring
screaming your lungs out

You wore that dress for nineteen hours
you wore it too long
you wo...

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She tips her age into his yawning hands, tracing the mother tide.

Her eyes are bites, and with her smile, her smash of glass in a feral air,

she leaps forward:

            “Name me in your heart.”

His shoulders sigh, fanning twilight thin, and stretch in the arch

of a velvet coat, and with a voice of milk and ice, he complies;

            “You leap into me like a g...

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I have seen many things through my eyes.

I see magic, mystical places, angels and fighter planes.

I see the magic of a summers day high in the mountains.

I see surreal dreamers flying through the rarefied air.

dancing under the moon.

I see a Spitfire turning on a knife-edge,

sun reflecting o...

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Words fail me
Sentences derail me
Thoughts ought to set me free
But they drag me down with new responsibilities
Catch 22s have got me in a fix
Why do people have to be such dicks
Adulthood a myth
Just children in suits and ties
Surrounding themselves with lies
And they like to blame each other
Oh brother!
Who’s gonna get the job done
New world order
Same rules
Made f...

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The sunflower wished to share his seeds with everyone
As he lovingly tracked the sun
But they kept him in a cardboard box
All wilted
And the fire inside him never shone
This tragedy brings tears to the free
For they know what he misses
And what the perpetrator has done
And how petals unfolded bring beauty
But  this heartfelt core is shunned
What an offering for the world
...

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Sometimes graceful

always life-enhancing,

often battered, bombed or broken -

bridges.

Hard to build, easy to destroy,

Years in the growing, rubble

in the time it takes

for an eye to widen.

An unforseen weakness,

a thoughtless moment,

an attack, neglect,

or simply being asked to carry

too much weight.

Wilder knew it was futile

...

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Sweeping municipal buildings 

loom inward with principled overhang.

Swooping seagulls launch lazy graceless

glaze on parkland treetops.

Sweaty armpits seep from runners-

panting painful spittle.

Sweets in tiny mouths, sticky toffee fillings-

swapping dripping lollies for fizzled nectar bottled toothache.

Swooning mothers, strained and flustered-

cleansing scr...

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Put four pounds of petrol in the second-hand car

that was given to us by your sister,

it's all we can afford.

It should be enough to get us there and back,

maybe enough to see your mum in the week.

We'll just have to see how things go.

Drive past M&S

along Cryws Road,

and past all those shops that you like;

Waitrose - you're having a laugh!

Tesco - we wan...

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He would certainly be admitted.

Who would believe

In the return of a prophet?

A dream realised

Is a failure in itself.

It belongs to the mind only.

To arrive in utopia

And find it is raining,

Earn the love

Of a perfect woman

Only to notice

She is a ghost.

This is proof

Dreams are for the mind only.

And as for the return

Of ...

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Para Dice

It's oh so nice in Para dice
Where your numbers are bound to show
Take my word and we'll take you there
Hurry up now - it's your time to go

Such are the empty promises,
We hear them all the time
Deceitful forms of marketing
Should they not have been made a crime

Some form of holiday making
A prize you won out of the blue
Special deals you just cant pass ...

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International PEN - Free the Word Festival

Experiences of Volunteering by Alain English

Wednesday 14th April 7:45 pm Purcell Room, Queen Elizabeth Hall - Opening Event The Ex-Empire Strikes Back with James Kelman, Olive Senior and Margaret Busby.  Chaired by Profile Writer Maya Jaggi.

Some weeks before this event, I registered to volunteer with the Free the Word Festival with Inter...

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Theres a guy the opposit of ambitious

Adverse to pinstripes,order, folders

and all things typed

Hates the words modules, schedules and meetings

Loathes all food with meat in

Has no time for time

sees the grouchy nature of clocks

and the bilingual nature of colour.

Rejoices in the serenity of empty

and the shape of plans unmade

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 There’s a paediatrician in the corner

Staring over at me

There are Islams in the bushes

Planting bombs with the hedges

There are asbos in my loft

Raving on the rafters

There are single mums in the kitchen

Moving up the council house waiting list

There are immigrants in my front room

Taking all my jobs

There’s no climate change on my roof

We threw the...

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flashback

for six days

the sky breathed

naturally

serenely blue

washed with dimpled sunshine

dappled clouds of long ago

whimsy on lazy wind

eye comfortable

content to be weather vanes

too soon

giant jets

score the atmosphere with carbon plumes

criss-crossing tic-tac-toe

skewed by schedules

and altitudes

...

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 Note:  Around 1980 a  group of streets in Manchester were being pulled down. They were  named after the days of the week, the occupants rehoused in modern high rises. These were not  successful and have been superceded much more successfully by  town houses. This poem is written about their demolition.

Goodbye To Thursday Street.

Under the bulldozer the terraced streets rushed,

 A ...

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This time

 Edward

Love of my life

I have had just about enough

Of your corduroyed flatulence

Perhaps it was the Eggs Benedict

Or

The Guinness fried fish kedgeree

I suspect it just may have been

That together with the Scampi Brochette con Aglio

Not to mention

A breakfast glass of Sauternes

Will you never learn?

You pervade...

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Okay, so I thought "I'll start a blog! I'll be hip to the Google and finally cool. People will comment and I will be a Goddess!"  I created a page, did one entry and then I forgot the URL, didn't bookmark it and couldn't be bothered to blog anyway. That was about six months ago. 

In the spirit of...something, I've decided to try again. This is more suited to me, I think, because I get to pr...

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‘Hey what are you doing?
Look out your window it’s snowing
(Do you know I love you?)
Amazing white faeries are floating down’

‘Oh yes it’s beautiful,
And thanks, I went outside to see,
(Yes I know you love me,)
Thanks for the text
(I know, so sad I don’t love you in return)

My tears are silently falling
Drifts of losing you pile upon my heart

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Sink into the bible’s words

Tales on a page as old as the wind

Crash into the rocks of knowing

Hear the alarm call of birds

Taste aniseed and coal

Dream of big bangs, atoms evolving

Greet the stranger, take his hand

Feel your body begin to rust

Look for the warning signs of death

Let your feet sink into the sand

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Apologies Francine for my dreadful French but I have a little announcement:

 This afternoon at 3pm I will be plugging Wordsoup and it's 1st birthday party (tuesday 20th at the Continental) as I have a poem to be published in it's upcoming anthology, I will hopefully (amid my inane chattering and nervous giggling and dreadful faux-pas) get the chance to read a poem too..

 If you want to ...

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Dear sirs, I am writing this letter

Re - the conduct of signor Arteta.

A poke in the eye

And you let it go by?

Surely your referees can do better?

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Rounding the corner,

The house seems unchanged,

Even those curtains I’d hated

I am now grateful to see.

I feel I could continue

down the path

Put the key in

Yale, worn brass, familiar

Turn…

- funny, how each lock has its own feel –

And open the door into a life that was.

Children torn from play,

A smile through the banisters,

Daddy...

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I called it my First Sonnet because, well it is the first sonnet I have ever written, but while it was waiting to be judged in a competition, I wrote two more; so the first appeared third.

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In the vastness of these feelings

I am fast approaching love.

In a manner of speaking

I am undoubtedly undone.

In the strength of his heart beat

I find the pace of my own quickening.

In the vastness of these feelings

I am fast approaching love.

His kisses send me into the abyss

In his arms I drown in his warmth.

In a manner of speaking

I am undoubtedl...

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For anyone who may be interested I have started to record and post audio of my own and others work on my website www.wytchewoode.co.uk

Go take a look / hear if you so wish.

Comments and feedback welcome.

And if you have audio you would like to add send me the mp3 with the title.

Keep on writing folks

:)

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Peat's Silent Secret

An evil so dire
Now lies in a hospital bed
Time to dwell on thoughts
From the past, haunting
Behind the eyes
Of the near deceased

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My england

where suns first rising warmed the land

with sweeping strokes of gold on green

upon which dew will come to hand

 to place itself in artists scene.

What cause is this to make such sight

that sends the heart to soar its pace,

with pride that sets the soul ignite

and hold it there with strong embrace.

 Did fortunes wish conspire with fate

to...

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It is something that I have been doing now for the best part of 2 years.

At least twice a month an envelope arrives on my doormat addressed to my pseudonym. Right at the moment I see the envelope I find more and more I am breathing a huge sigh (although not of relief). Contained within the unassuming brown packaging could be anything. Of late the contents of these envelopes has tended...

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http://www.napowrimo.net/

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I no longer dare to touch you

For fear you might scream

I’m not surprised I repulse you

When I think of where I’ve been

I guess you murder children

Or rob the OAPs

You carry some kind of burden

To have earned a curse like me

Devotee, devotee, devotee, devotee

Devotee, devotee, that’s me

I no longer hope to see you

Except for in my dreams

...

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love is forever

charity is forever true

friendship is neither

and life puts them both in the blue.

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She comes to me so softly

A brush of paw a subtle sigh,

A sweet nudge.

Are you awake?

Will you feed me?

will you offer me the sustenance I need?

I ask you most sincerely.

Feed me, love me, stroke me

and I will be yours forever more,

but, IF I could but operate the can opener,

You could leave me to be myself,

A lonely,lovely adored pussycat.

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Shakespearian Speakers Corner

Fair maidens, noble sirs I bid thee tarry a while.

Prithee remove cloth, that dust cover thyne ears,

and keep’st thyne portals of sleep awakened

that thou may heed my chronicle.

For mine is a winter’s tale,

thats brought nought but discontent,

to kindred spirits of this peopled land.

Elected emissaries of her majesty,

dust ...

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This is the kind of poem a poet wishes that they did not have to write... this is the kind of poem that gives a poet the reason to write, its why God gave us the ability to write.

A Nigerian immigrant was murdered on the streets of Dublin, Ireland on Good Friday last. This poem is my reaction to the tragedy...

...

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Write Out Loud's Paul Blackburn approached Fatima Al Matar (pictured), a poet from Kuwait currently living in Coventry, with proposal for a Cross Cultural Poetry project.  As a result of discussion, two blogs were produced which should be read together (this one second).

Initially, she worked with English poet, Fred Holland, to produce a version of his poem "Unsuited" in Arabic, and versio...

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Whether you pick the long or short,

Oft either is more than enough,

Though it may concern you,

Or it may not,

Of climes so interchangable,

The weather appears as variedly,

On the island's unyielding face,

As inneffectually as anything can,

Like whatever torrent of emotions,

Should crash against the heart,

Of what many call the typical Englishman

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the male islamic suicide bomber

detonates himself

killing and maiming

innocents stood nearby and

so i have been told goes

straight to paradise, where he is met by

seventy two virgins, can this be true??

the female islamic suicide bomber

detonates herself and innocents

around her,

does she also go straight to paradise

to be met by?

seventy tw...

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Another high profile child killer's face

Glaring from the front page

It'll never age

A frozen

Precisely chosen

Photo to justify

The ranting prose

And shrieking headlines.

And you're so embroiled in mindless,mundane toil

That whenever those papers

Boil with rageful calls

For the knee-jerk mob elite

You suddenly jump to your fe...

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Here’s what the stats are telling us happened last month

    * 3,576 registered members

    * 2.1 million hits - a record

    * 3,137 log-ins to the site – a record!

    * 185 new events put on gig guide

    * 62 events updated on gig guide

    * 25 poets added their profiles to the Poets' Showcase

    * 713 Poets on the Showcase

    * 396 poets' profiles...

Read more …