In the wanting, in the waiting, in the never that comes between
Distances rolls like waves between us
 Pulling us closes and drawing us apart.

Words cramp in my mouth, my tongue thickens
If, if, if, want, want, want, need, need, need.
You cannot hear me, I cannot speak
 
In the head
 A thousands scenes play out
Hand touching hand
Minds reach out
And twine
Leanin...

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Had another go at last verses

“Despite their dementia  they do remember well that they have a family that is never here for them. They call their names into emptiness, and cry at the thought of abandon .” a comment from BBC website

Dementia

I cried and sucked their teats. They drew a face on me

 in their own image, one I never asked for,

constructed a smile and ears to...

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The autumn leaves an ill-defined unease
that (while the summer flourished) I’d ignored.
The litany begins. We can’t afford
the oil we need to buy before the freeze;
they’ve forecast snow: we need to fix the tiles
that blew away before the summer came,
fit plastic shrouds on every window-frame;
there isn’t any salt in stock for miles.
       Yet soon I’ll wake, and March will fal...

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That third being between us. Like a mutual shadow.
Awakes us from sleep with a gentle touch of light, a breath of reality.
Bites us, when we’re too sluggish; dances around us, when we embrace each other.
We get lost in the wilderness of its fur, like children, pugnacious, fussy and nosy…
That third, Being between us.
Sometimes like a tender cloud, surrounds us with petals of silence;
...

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I washed her

from my pillow-slips.

In a white plastic bucket

I soaked away her body's breath,

and with bleach removed

the evidence she had  left.

We snatched the time

to make our marks

with sweat and 

firm commitments.

The stains on stolen sheets

proved easier to erase

than those she ground into

the fabric of my room,

...

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(Much as I am reluctant to tamper with The Master.....)

There you go and, Baby, here am I

Well, you left me here with all this fish to fry

I’ve thawed this cod and now you’ve quit your job

And you won’t batter anymore.

You bastard, Trish! So now you’ve got your wish

You left me here with all this fucking fish

There’s no flour dips so all we got is c...

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Train spotters love trains, tracks, stations, sidings,

Steep cuttings, mortar, stony spaces.

Straining to observe the woosh and swoosh,

Chatter and clatter of carriage and truck

And engine names.

Buddleias spring from bridge and brick,

Colouring impossible places,

Stattoes of the railway network:

“The nine-forty to Liverpool is late,

Leaves on the line....

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What is love?

Fills the emptiness

Breaks the wave

Turns the head

Twists the fate

Destroys the expected

Shapes the form

Spoils the beauty

A silent call

Rouses the sleeping

Leadens the heart

Haunts my spirit

When we are apart

© Katy Hughes 2012

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UNCTION

You live your life, you take the blows,
Its deepest wound the blackened bruise
Where sometime roads would trail desire,
And lead down ways we would not choose.

God knows I’ve sought the sheltered glade,
Where summer breezes always blow,
But oft I walked the rock strewn path,
And found that place we should not go.

I find with age some restful cal...

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                                                   WHISKER

A whisker on the window sill

Means feline’s been around.

She didn’t leave her pawprints,

She never made a sound.

But I know that she’s been there,

The evidence there still:

A little, wispy filament

Upon the window sill.

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The most difficult part of moving back to

the area where you grew up are

the people you bump into

who you haven’t seen for years.

Mainly, it’s people who attended

school with you, but occasionally

it’s a family member or an ex, and

they’re the ones that stagger you.

After saying a flustered

hello, the first and most obvious

questions are...

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I forgive you Ruth for hurting me. Now I must move on and go far away from you. I’m getting married to my warrior friend. Please don’t be mad with me. I think you’d approve and like Natalie. She loves gothic music and even has a band called Mayo, never mind her tattoos and love of flying. Like you, she speaks to me in my dreams. Unlike you, she won’t ever hur...

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Kids with drugs,

it's like their

being ripped apart

by blades of a knife.

They slowly die

from their wounds.

Their souls drain

like blood from

torn vessels.

Their lives end.

Maybe not today

maybe not tomorrow,

but they eventually do.

Do we even try

to make it stop?

Just ...

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Honey, what time do you think you’ll be in?

I want to get to you before the gossip does.

Don’t worry -  I love you.

                                …                                           

Ruth, I’m going to be delayed.

I have to stay late – extra work.

I’m really sorry.

                OK, Honey. I’ll see you when I see you.

                Keep it warm.

...

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I've transformated, morphasised,

I've bent, reformed, aligned.

Embraced and moulded with some zeal;

included and combined.

So now I'm out there, chick at large,

pouring forth my thoughts;

compelled to brief to unknown screens,

providing my reports.

When snuggled in my rain-soaked nest.

When waiting for my tea.

When just about to fly the nest,

th...

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His deeds fortold her future.

His absence etched upon her soul,

His genes that were her makeup

were a mystery to unfold.

His life acting out his mothers belief,

On a mission to impossible

Living inside the words of the 'pious book'

A martyr to the incredible.....

Every night on bended knee,

Repenting all his sins......

He'd remorsely ask forgiveness...

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They strain towards the light.

Blinded by a death

in black and white.

Stood in a puddle of water

its darkness climbing legs

like sweet peas.

Tickling those hardened

by the tenebrous earth.                                                         Photograph by Keith Pattison

Leaching tears since ’51.

                                                             ...

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It’s the Music That Matters!

The Metalhead strums his air guitar

The Indian man sings while playing his sitar

It’s not the colour of his skin

- It’s the music that matters!

Panpipes in the mountains

Music in the fountains

It doesn’t matter where it is

- It’s the music that matters!

Synthesisers and Electropop

Strut your stuff and bop till you drop

Da...

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See www.prolebooks.co.uk

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Does anyone know why 17 Borrowdale Road is missing?

Every day I walk past the empty space

and wonder why it’s not there.

No. 13 is missing as well but I suppose that’s just unlucky.

My husband was born in no. 48 in 1944.

He says there never was a house there;

the plot of land was used as an allotment,

probably to aid the war effort.

I lived at 3...

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words

colours

          tearing together

                                                                                                       across the page

and the

           painting writing

are as

       a sound

           of

a brush

          or pen

          and out

               of

colours

 words

worlds

collide

      ...

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                                                  Flippance is a Goodbye Song

Flippance is a goodbye song,

It comes with the yeah yeah yeah’s,

The no no no’s and,

‘Good luck with that,’ they say!

     What it actually means is;

I don’t care for you, your opinions

And angle on life,

For it’s too sore a point of controversy,

Too much the...

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I don’t write poems,

I drink them like wine,

I become tipsy

with each coming line.

I don’t write poems,

I breathe them like air,

I become so happy

when each one I share.

I don’t write poems,

I live with them;

they prolong my years,

they are as true as I am.

I don’t write poems,

I weave into verses

sadness, joy, tea...

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My book - 'Your Sax Is On Fire' is now an incredible £3.99 when you type SAFIRE into the discount code box on

http://www.troubador.co.uk/book_info.asp?bookid=1594

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For clemency, I lie you at the end of my bed –

rest, and keep the flight of my wrecked dreams at bay - 

this is your sleep,

a seam of undisturbed silk.

I’ll take my psychiatry with the fluorescence of the day,

there is no hurried rivulet for you to claim,

calm though you are, in the pest, be calmer still in my absence.

The draw of each hour wil...

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Between kicking a ball and vandalizing boredom, I swung around lamp posts

and mouthed my maisonette backdrop around the block.

I would burn spiders with a magnifying glass, a clear conscience, and a smile.

But in a few years - the estate molding me would be bulldozed,

thought so bad by Thatcher’s Britain, to not be fit

for the working class. An irony mocked

by the ...

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Filled with heavy silence

The clouds went on, shaking their sieve

Adding to a sour day all around.

All purpose was missing,

On a weekday torn from routine.

The depressed bodies

Mooned like tourists

Amongst the trestle tables,

Eating to keep from talking,

Black jackets wet with an odor of mold.

I sat watching out the window

Where the clouds...

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So many years we’ve been together now,

There never was another one for me.

Beneath bright stars, your key set my heart free,

To love you always was my whispered vow.

Aged just eighteen we had a lot to learn,

We learnt together, made mistakes and how,

Our love survived and flourished so we now

Find blissful heights as passion lasts to burn.

A sweet contentme...

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For Jack Lytton - brother-in-law - who has just signed off this life to chart the great unknown.

.............................................................................

It's the tang of the spray

On a bright summer's day

When you're carried along by the breeze.

It's the bite of the wind

When your face feels skinned,

Salted by cold winter seas.

It's th...

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For all of those trembling on the brink, all wannabe poetry performers, as yet uninitiated and still afraid to stand-up on an open mike night, WOL Middleton night at the Ring of Bells is just up your street.

I was last to climb the ladder of a  steep staircase to the cosy room upstairs  at Middleton’s Ring of bells, I was warmly  welcomed by  the words of our  compare  Gemma ,( I’m pregnant...

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Although what we do today feels routine,

a rhythmic activity which can seem mundane,

I still remember the very first time,

that whirl of surprise, then joy ... satisfaction.

I know back then it wasn't with you,

but a chance encounter, a sweet interlude,

a spiral I  held in my hand for a moment,

a love to be savoured, and longingly pursued,

for the sense of arriva...

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And so you'll never see me
as I see myself.
That doesn't worry me.
We have Spain and enough excitement to
to take our minds off cold nights
and over priced spoiled wines.

Your hands are two foreign explorers
excited enough to travel
-without complaint-
the country of my skin,
from earlobe to navel
I feel like half a man
under the microscope of your curious fingers.

...

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(Lines for the lady medic)

You`ll laugh and say, `That poets in a plight`

That, `He`ll remember nothing` or maybe fret,

That `being three parts drunken on the night

`the things he said were anyway all lies`

But, love, could I forget,

How the laughter, capering with the light,

Danced wild Antrim-antics in your eyes?

Or that your voice had in it, when y...

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Fishing for Fella's

Scope out the field,
locate your target,
make your move
on a true bargain.

Set out the bait,
irresistible flesh;
the walking wriggle
for victim's interst.

Cast out the line,
straight to the point;
with charming smile,
in seductive voice.

Grow the pole, out
on the pull,
must be a big'un
down below.

Reel him in,
close and...

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If you spent half the time you do

In trying to deceive me

Then I could tell you half a lie

And you would half believe me.

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7.4.12

Image: Hugh and 'best friend' Charlie

48) I'd taken my first pictureof an alligator,

Spoonbill and black vulture would come later

Coming from Brazoria Park and driving with care,

I noticed a light on the dashboard that shouldn't be there

It let me know, tyre pressure was low

Soon it was fine, I used a gas station air line

But it was in vain cos later...

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Catch the spinning prisms of my mind

So that away on a wing we can go to find,

The truth that few may know or admit

That it is better to be hurt by honesty than deceit.

For of all the sounds we make

And of all the words we speak,

Or of all the notes we cue

Few come tomorrow, will still ring true.

Every promise you receive

Every emotion you perceiv...

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Today Bella died

And yes, both of us cried

‘Though we know so much is sadder than that.

Still she was a good friend,

Dignified ‘til the end

And now, we‘re gonna miss that cat.

She’d warmed both our feet

Would be waiting to greet

And before you could lay down your hat,

You’d hear that great purr

Feel the rub of her fur,

Oh how we’re gonna m...

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We don't see in black and white

our heart shaped specks

whisper glitter through our minds

We feed promises to chocolate buttons

and elongate innocence like liquorice laces.

strawberry naivety coiled on our tongues

Hiding in makeshift tents

building safety from Lego

We know the cost of

unstable ground

Hearing music in every sound

we d...

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It's hard for you to sit here and keep

your value.  You are at the mercy

of other people's whims.  'Come on'

says the boss.  'Get these residents outside!'

You look bewildered at his brusque

command, compress your lips as if not

quite ready to be addressed in this

peremptory way.  'It's fete day' I explain.

'We're supposed to go out and spend.'

I sell y...

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Outside, the hawthorn is in bloom

while here the TV spits into my room

faster than bullets, the same old news

that some far-flung corner of a foreign field

is now sown with blood, with shrapnel, and with loss

that it’s worth the sacrifice

worth the cost

and outside, the hawthorn is in bloom.

Outside, the hawthorn is in bloom

the willow glows with ...

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Sonnets are meant to be about romance

and love.

You know? All that's good.

But why should form be contained,

can one not make love to the page

in their own expression?

I can,

and will.

Imagination like a dodgems car,

wild yet bumpy.

And I guess that's what love is,

you can try to steer in the right direction

but there will always be obstacl...

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On Monday 21st May we’ll be celebrating the wide variety of musical talent in Manchester at NEW VENUE Fuel Bar in Withington with OpenMind: Face the Music II a year on from our first ever live music special. We’ve got a fantastic line up planned with amazing live music from the likes of vocalist Tsareeena Wimbush, acoustic and vocals from Tony Ward, poetry and loops from Martin Christie and poe...

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We used to sit on this bench

waiting for the sun to set

into the sea

like a big red boiled sweet.

It changed its shape,

looked like an onion or a pear

slipping so quickly underneath

the waves.

The sky stayed blue

so long -

we waited to spot a planet

appearing like the first note in a peal of bells.

The night sky was our dark symp...

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The title for this post comes from my time as a scrub nurse and the occasional meetings I had to attend where, among other things, cases that had resulted in deaths were assessed.

In Passing.

Worn and weathered ornaments adorn these avenues of stone

where plots are plainly tended or ignored and overgrown

and moss obcures the names of those interred in crooked,

...

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Poem 5 of 230:  STATE TO STATE

(TUNE - IN THE KEY OF C MAJOR:

C2 F2 G2 F3
C2 F2 G2 F3
C2 F2 G2 F3
C2 F2 G2 F3
F2 G2 F2 C3
F2 G2 F2 C3
F2 G2 F2 C3
C2 F2 F2 F3) 

From Sydney Town,
    In uni. break,
I drove south-west
    To earnings make
Onion picking,
    On the fields
Of Echuca,
    That year’s yields.

                                          After day’s work,
        ...

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Stark white wind-farms now whirl, wuthering

Wild atop High Haworth moor

On fresh snowfall softly covering

Like lambswool, the grassy floor

But as bland blades turn there, hovering

Thoughts spin fast around my brain:

If it is now worthwhile bothering

Writing verse which rings so vain.

Are those metal monsters withering

So all inspiration dies?

For as...

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Oh my little anarchist son I am so proud of you

Make sure that you have fun today whatever you may do

Make sure your boots are polished now, and cover up your features

Say hello to all the neighbours and be nice to your teachers

Right before you burn your high school right down to the ground

And go on a vandalism spree 'til the riot vans come round

Then you can pelt the ...

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I can feel all of you writhing together

Pooling your heat

You are hot wires running through me

Electric as you cover

Your thin bodies wrapping themselves tightly

racing like  wind to a wildfire

You are covering me in flame

Dangerous animals are fleeing these woods

as you turn figure eights

creating paths of orange and red

trails of yellow to b...

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Three tin rings wound round the other

Fell in a chain tin tings together

Ching ching the bling bill got bigger

And I tink you teefed it like a little tinker’s nigger

You hid it in your pocket

Lifted it with thin fingers

Spindled round a hypo

Swiftly mingled blood and hydro

Till im throwin in your jeans

Minging stink into the laundrette dryer

And chink chi...

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Seize the moment with special offers on collections by Ben Mellor, Gerry Potter, Rosie Garland, Jackie Hagan, Dermot Glennon, Helen Thomas & Dominic Berry (and also before the p&p goes up by 50p at the end of April!).

www.flapjackpress.co.uk

@FlapjackPress

mail@flapjackpress.co.uk

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Through hills, fallow fields,

look-out towers, and

chattel houses - I feel you.

Amongst the palm,

flamboyant and paw paw trees

and as the Black-belly sheep graze - I see you.

You whisper in my ear as the

sea breezes

atop Bathsheba Rock.

Up Gun Hill, across the length of the East Coast Road

and down Cattlewash

- I remember you:

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This peice of writing comes from a circular i received through the post, i thought i would pass it on to a wider audience, enjoy.

                                     To all the kids who survived the 1930s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s,

First we survived being put to sleep on our tummies in cribs covered with bright coloured lead-based paints. we had no childproof lids on medicine bottles,loc...

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shall you consider
with a glance
what ails this
wracked chest
to whisper?

may you come here
on a chance, outside
while painted-over grills
creak & strain to open:

encrusted gates
await firm hands.
therein, opulent
niceties are mute,
minute breaths, plenty.

`

Please make your response or comment on my profile page. Thank you.

Read more …

Automatic Responds 

Leaving Without a Bye

No I don’t hate her… really I don’t hate her but I wish she was dead

I wish a bus hit her, I wish a car hit her, I wish a bike hit her

I wish that someone would push her in front of a moving train

I wish a meteorite fall from the sky and landed in her eyes

I wish the times we were together it would be erase from my “mi...

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His eyes moved slowly as he watched them pass

A young mother pushing her trolley with the kids in tow

Like she was competing for the Grand Prix

Thinking thoughts of what to make for tea

Thowld woman spoke first

Never 'ad  school runs when I was a lass

Nah he agreed

Then suddenly his thoughts re-wound

Like the re-play on the old VHS

To the time when his ...

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Unaware searching for the devil, in the attic it was,

He never reached..........

In a quest of finding the roots of evil,

his  Marlicious Evil twin prevailed.

His dark side, gradually showing, he was loosing his humanity

He became a fiend, Quarrelled with nature, disturbed the balance of nature 

Compelled to find the roots of Evil, Once a genius penetrating forbidden w...

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Sell   your   soul

Sell every dream

Sell all of your gold

Cel-eb-rity

Sell the new old. Sell the fish sea.

Sell what shouldn't be sold.

Sel-fish-ly

Sell your new phone.

Sell a cane to a bat.

Sell a dog a bone.

Sellotape it to a cat

Sell all your money.

Sell all you're worth.

Sell a bee back his honey.

Sell a flower the earth

Sell the s...

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the ambition when we

started the race; the gallops and

one more breath; escaped

(

and we felt young again

pushing the threshold

of an imaginary battle

)

against the unreachable sunset

that tainted; in red the salty droplet

smashing against; the gravel

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Advice for Poetry Slammers
(With apologies to Rudyard Kipling)

If you can keep your scores when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you recall your words when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can bear to hear the poems you've spoken
Critiqued by snobs who scorn the common touch,
Or watch your strategy for three rounds ...

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                                         WEEDS

“Quietly amazing, when she allows herself to be”,

an early epitaph written

while we are all still here,

“seems such a waste otherwise”.

When asked for memories

I have a day of hot sun and wasps,

an image from behind,

picking vaguely at garden things,

straw hat for a head.

Peacefully an...

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