Nine entries so far folks! I forgot to say that if anyone wants to submit more than one entry – feel free. The closing date is January 5th 2012, after which I’ll open the voting. I have purposely refrained from commenting on entries until after the closing date.

Still two weeks to get your entry posted. For entry stipulations please see here:

http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blo...

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OK folks! There has been some support for a competition on the blog; with this in mind I’m happy to set one. Some have suggested that there should be a “theme” as in previous competitions – as is my whim I’m going to ignore that and set something I personally think is far more difficult!

What do we, as poets, write about? After a very unscientific trawl through last month’s blogs and ...

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We don’t seem to have had a competition on the WOL blog of late. In the past these have inspired and produced some excellent poetry and good fun. I’m not sure why these have come to a halt, but in the absence of anyone else I would be happy to provide a prize and admin/collation of entries – if anyone is interested?

I don’t wish to step on anyone’s toes, so if I’m jumping the gun or s...

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Just for a bit of fun. Add your own caption to this blog entry - or post another pic . . .

 Maybe one for the ladies . . .

and for the gents . . .

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freedom of speech

(the "Murdoch" edit - featuring Rebekah Brooks - respect . . .) 

.....for the billionth time

go get a job or a career!

get it right from the start!

If you get it wrong/tenuous

or off note from the inception,

(it happens to us all)

don't try and steal from

poets off the cuff commen...

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Girl in a summer dress

The park is tinder dry and brittle-bone,

wraith clouds wither in the Wedgewood blue

oblivious you lie there all alone

while all the world stops turning  – just for you.

Wandering pages of some other place

in leopard shade of genuflecting trees,

the lake strews shimmering diamonds on your face,

your wheat-field hair a...

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(I)

This morning Samantha is building a bonfire

Down on the waste ground in rubbish and weeds

Ferrying armloads of boxes and bin-bags,

Burning a life that she no longer needs.

Out of the cardboard seep velvets and spangles,

Hairpieces, handcuffs, impractical shoes,

Skimpy silk underwear, ropes and brass bangles -

The tools of a trade that ...

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“A passionate man.” That’s what they said,

somewhere between the sherry and the teas.

The greenest lawn, the finest veg, the longest stemmed

sweet peas – always a winner at the local show.

How could they know? The man who always wore a tie

and tipped his hat to everyone he met. Who every Sunday read,

with measured gravitas, his given l...

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smoke signals

The coffee pot’s down

to grounds and dregs,

the cognac bottle’s

now the worse for wear.

He counts each crossing of the legs

each slow blink,

approving laugh;

tests the warmth of every smile,

notes each surreptitious lick of lip;

decodes the semaphore

of each flick of hair.

She feels the hours grow smaller,

sees the pa...

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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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