When I read your poems,

I fall in love with you. 

Then I read his poems, 

and fall in love with him too.

I admit it,

I can’t quit it.

I’m a PoHo, 

like Phoebe Snow! 

https://youtu.be/lihbaHfnDhk

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MR PRESIDENT (NO FAKE NEWS) OFFICIAL VIDEO BY FREDO VIOLA

MR PRESIDENT (NO FAKE NEWS)

There’s a war going on and on and on and on

There’s a war going on and on and on and on

Mr President Mr Chairman

the world is not your apocalypse

&

you are no saviours

&

peace

is not

a bargaining chip

&

missiles

are not

golf clubs or basketballs

&

murder by missi...

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Ujjal Mandal, India

A poet is needed

to define the life, 

as the poets measure

the length of life

practically as well as

 philosophically. 

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I wish I knew what to say

I look for words

But they just escape me

I look for a sign, everyday

But the faith I feel, it fades away

Set the alarm, wake up and keep on going

But all the while, my tears are flowing

What about the love and joy that I felt in my heart?

Please don’t tell me we’re destined to depart?

Elvis’ dulcet tones, makes its way right ...

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Lately, while I was
Scouring the internet
A shock I felt
Up on learning
A tragic news
A google-found friend
Of mine
On the western end of
My continent
But for a while
We experienced
A disconnect
To my grief
Had turned brief.

What a depriving blow
What a depriving blow
To poetry fans
That missed
Words of wisdom
From his mind that flow.
Life, love,
Hope and salvation pack...

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I would be lying if i say I didn’t miss you

Because deep inside i know i did

You were the love of my live

But soon I realised it was best to let you go 

Pain was piercing my soul with each passing day

And it was time for me to say my last goodbyes to you

It’s been two years and 

Life has been good lately no pain no sorrow

But deep inside the thought of you st...

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The World in Lockdown People's Poem is now online and free to read at:

https://www.facebook.com/worldinlockdownpoem/

Please give it a read!

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Wirral poets Barry Woods and Michelle Wright are curating a people's poem during the UK lockdown period. The poem is, at present, ten pages long and will be launched online on May 11th. 

Facebook@worldinlockdownpoem

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Late at night 
Lying in bed
Headphones on
Listening to music
Or a few recorded poems
Reading the latest 
I attempt to craft a new one
Or brush up a draft not quite finished

It’s becoming routine
I’ve always been
An undercover poet
Now I’m sharing my words 
With my family’s support as an added bonus

Shared are the happenings,
The disappointments,
The contests never won,
Submissi...

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How the knobs within certain doors fasten their hinges to my ceiling, during the hours of my own apocalypse; bursting into clouds.

Is this not standard for poetry?

Wits of a madwoman, how she writes the scores this evening.

That tattered bell in multitude and proportions, shimmering sequins from out, and beneath her dress.

Constellations within the drawers of the aorta full of notes th...

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You could tell she was trying hard,
Which girl doesn't try to mould their own skin to fit in?
You could tell she was trying to impress,
But as someone who knew better, I should have told her to rest,
But she was trying to hard to make it,
She was going all the way to fake it,
And I could tell,
She wore the sheepish smile,
But I knew this act so well,
She was like me,
I am like her,
She ...

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Do you ever feel like you're the protagonist of a book?

Where the ending is constantly being rewritten and you're just waiting for the day that it's finally gone through all the edits and gets published?

But what happens if it's a novel that has 7 parts?

You might never even get to read the last written words or get to the final chapter of what you thought was your

"perfect ending."

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I want to tell you how incredibly

imaginative, creative, talented

I think you are with your poetry,

writing, music, art...

but I hesitate to expose our

eggshell-covered egos, 

fuel rejection, 

ignite impostor syndrome...

all live wires 

that threaten to electrocute

our fragile muse 

into submission 

of a numbed,

comfort-zone life. 

So, instead of shouting

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After She Made It to the News papers life was never same again 
people recognised her as a POET, it became a blooming pain 
In Tesco everyone would look, in the chemist they would wink 
Being a famous Poet was harder than anyone would think 

She tried to solved her problem when in a red wig she would walk 
doesn't she look like Marie the poet everyone would squawk 
In the end she stayed in...

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