Preamble: So I learned about the ghazal form from an amazing Urdu poet over on Instagram, and just had to try it in English. He paid me the greatest compliment by liking it. I guess you can look up the rhyme rules yourself if you're interested... 

Though Cupid did to you direct my love
It seems his aim was not correct, my love

Although my heart to you I freely give,
Affection I do not...

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Preamble: I'm an English as second language teacher in Higher Education. In this current period of more-than-doubled workload due to the hurried and inexpert transition to distance learning, this poem was prompted by one unnamed submitted file too many...

https://youtu.be/sxmobxAT49Y

Dear student,

You are unique.

You’re the only you in the world. It’s true,

So I understand for you, ...

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I tried to write a sonnet. I was quite proud of it, but it didn't win.

Engaged since birth against one deadly foe,

A mortal combat all must surely yield,

No clemency or kindness can we know,

No soul alive will leave this battlefield.

The lines of combat proudly crease my face,

My hair turns slowly, unabashed, to gray.

I must accept with honour and good grace,

to b...

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Know something's amiss:
Passing paperclips
Beneath fingertips
Tingle with promise

The ego gone wrong
In fashioning pain
As some kind of game
In guise of being strong

Yet elsewhere bombs fall
Of course we can care
The cowardly dare
To answer the call

False means to atone
For wallowing guilt
At all the blood spilt
That isn't your own

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https://youtu.be/Nv9OvYKyZHs

At some point during my childhood

I decided that I would apologise for everything, just in case.

I must have done so many things wrong as a kid

That it was just easier to apologise for everything I did

And I found it was a very easy habit to adopt

Once started, I’ve never really since stopped

And pretty soon, in all forms of communication

I was ...

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Yesterday I fell in love with a face.
Only for five minutes or so:
Wholly inappropriate, I know -
an excess of emotion displaced
while I tried my best to make you safe
as I had been taught to do.

I found you lying on the floor,
an empty bottle as a clue:
You did pretend-coma so well,
as you had being chest-stabbed just before.
But as I practised faux first aid -
lifted your young chin...

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Preamble: this is a little ditty inspired by the beautiful but slightly puzzling song "Te Manquer" by Grand Corps Malade, with its refrain (in English) "I just want you to miss me".

Do I want someone to miss me
Or is it enough to know
There are folk that will miss me
The day I have to go?

Do I want someone to miss me
Or would I rather share
My time with those that would miss me
But don...

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Autumn arrives at last, unseasonably late.

Frustrated at being forced to wait,

she makes her displeasure known

in a sudden, howling rainstorm that threatens more

than the dying leaves that are her due.

But she finds herself part-thwarted in her mission.

Others have shown their anger before:

the best plum tree felled by the surprise late snow of April;

the elderberries ...

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Mini-humans converge
drawn but not defeated by routine.
So much colour,
movement,
noise -
so much future in one place
cannot be discreet.

Suddenly
I understand.
Quarts trapped in pint-pots!
Spirits simply too big
to fit still-growing bodies.
So much lifeforce
escaping -
shouting,
rough-and-tumble,
temper tantrums -
excess leaking from
unfinished containers.

Later, on the tra...

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I have no roots –

only memories.

Present becomes past before my eyes

Life is lived, recorded there, somehow,

More or less imperfectly inscribed

Within my head, thus stored behind my brow.

These things exist for me, just in my mind,

For if I try to seek them out again

There’s only ever something new to find:

Nothing in the stillness can remain.

I have no root...

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Preamble: my little effort for #napowrimo Day 10, inspired by the prompt "bloodstone" from @Fallspoetry on Instagram.

Too impatient for emerald or even diamond

I came to claim bloodstone as my own

Entering via Aries

Heated veins are my weakness

Yet I have not spilled blood

Only shared it

Thus I am a footsoldier

Of the Mother Goddess

And if my robes ...

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Preamble: it took the death of a friend to push me into at last trying free verse, and quite frankly it makes me nervous.

Decades proud

You were of this land long before the moving bone-bags appeared

claiming paper-thin possession.

Still, generous to a fault, you shared the profits of your growth.

I wonder how many generations you trained

in the art of pick-your-own?

Lips on g...

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If I could take the thoughts you most like to think

And sculpt them into text that speaks to you as art,

If I could take the feelings you most want to share

And mirror them in words, reflected in your heart,

Then would you more easily forgive my selfish pen?

Excuse the vacant looks, the lost half-hours when

I am not yours, as I wander some distant mental shore?

If you liked my...

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Preamble: just a little ditty I threw together for napowrimo day 4, prompt word “radar” from @avolitorial on Instagram. Please read nothing into it - it is not at all based on reality. Honest guv'nor. 

“Hey! How’s things? Are you okay?”

Why did this come from YOU?

Why was I on YOUR radar, when

those closer never knew?

What psychic powers do you own?

What signals d...

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This morning’s glorious golden hour

On this day, leaves me cold.

The sweet dawn chorus lingers on

No joys to me unfold.

No light or beauty penetrates

The fog within my head.

Become so numb, I can but wait

In longing, for my bed.

For National Poetry Month 3rd April 2019 – prompt from IG @tristameer “use the word ‘golden’ in a poem”.

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Always the same question.  Is today the day
that I don’t make it through? That I give up and run away?
Is it today I fail to act, to deceive, to pretend
When I can't keep the smile held in place until the end?

I try to be a mirror. I’m just a parasite, 
A blood-sucker feeding on their energy and light. 
I just give back to others what I take from them by stealth
I've no resources in me le...

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Stay up until all hours with work stuff,

Then wonder why the kids act at their worst,

Insist they play alone when you feel rough,

Then wonder which will throw a tantrum first.

You promise something then you make them wait,

Then wonder why they give you endless grief,

Sling insults when the school run’s running late,

Then wonder why they’re lacking self-belief.

Rec...

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If I could lie with poetry as if beside a lover,

Rhymes like arms to hold me, laden pages as a cover

between me and my reality, the truth I try to hide,

Too feeble for the malice of the world that waits outside.

If I could lie with poetry as if upon a lover,

Minds meeting as hearts beat to find the rhythm of the other,

Words caressing skin, or tasting sweet on lips so red,

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Preamble: I know some folk are not going to like this, but it's my right to be angry and I don't care who knows it.

Live version on Youtube: https://youtu.be/ckq0X_z6I6M

On the 30th of March 2019

I shall wake up significantly older

And no longer European.

What a great birthday present history has prepared for me -

After 4 decades on this planet, “we’re revoking your Eu...

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Preamble: for this week's Saturday Rhymers theme of "moving", just for FUN repeat FUN, here is my first attempt at a... well, you'll see.

Gotta keep on moving ‘cos it hurts to stand still.

Gotta weep in proving that my work’s not landfill,

Gotta seek to be outrageous ‘cos this weakness is contagious,

Gotta be a freak to speak out and break out of all these cages.

Gotta kee...

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Preamble: this is a slam poem and probably works better aloud. I'll try to make a video one day.

I’m here today to speak to you about something of great importance:

We have to save the words!

Dozens of words each day are being lost

We cannot underestimate the intellectual cost

As their natural habitats become corrupted

And their reproductive patterns are being disrupted

Words ...

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Preamble: for this week's Rhymers theme "first", here is my first attempt at a villanelle.

My son, it fell to you to be born first

You turned a couple into Mum and Dad

You sometimes had the best, sometimes the worst

You changed our lives when into them you burst,

And for that day I ever shall be glad,

My son, it fell to you to be born first.

Our parenting was w...

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Preamble: my contribution to this week's Rhymers' theme "fire".

Wouldn’t it be easier to recognise a liar

If caught telling porkies, their pants really caught fire?

As a warped form of justice, it would be rather fun

To see a guilty con man get singed around the bum.

The value of honesty would rapidly be learned

If every untruth told led to buttocks getting burned.

P...

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Preamble: my contribution to this week's Saturday Rhymers theme - with apologies to anyone called Jack.

Men called Jack must always complain

About their name being taken in vain.

In language, literature, songs and nursery rhymes

The name “Jack” crops up time after time.

Whenever a male figure is expected

Chances are a character called “Jack” will be selected.

What have th...

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Starve myself on Monday

Stuff myself on Tuesday

Hate myself on Wednesday

Rationalise on Thursday

Friday night I feel your strong arms appreciate my curves

The weekend passes in a dream

Rinse and repeat.

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For this week's Saturday Rhymers theme: Leaving Home.

When I go back and stay at my Dad’s place,

It’s great, but it’s no longer home.

I struggle to get my own kids off to sleep

In the room that I once called my own.

They watch cartoons, just as I did

Two sofas, three tellys ago.

So much is the same, yet so much has changed,

Though I try hard to not let i...

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For a poem about motivation

I find myself lacking real inspiration.

After a period of procrastination

It’s become a source of great frustration.

Is this real artistic creation

Or just intellectual masturbation?

But following quiet contemplation

I had a sudden revelation:

What I am lacking is

The title.

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One of my favourite ways of passing the time

Is chasing imagery and hunting down rhyme,

But as this takes place inside my head

It’s not enough, or so my doctor’s said.

Poetry feeds my brain and soothes my soul

But it doesn’t help much towards my fitness goals.

If only flexing words could take inches off my thighs!

If only shaping verses was more than mental exercise!

T...

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One of my favourite ways of passing the time

Is chasing imagery and hunting down rhyme,

But as this takes place inside my head

It’s not enough, or so my doctor’s said.

Poetry feeds my brain and soothes my soul

But it doesn’t help much towards my fitness goals.

If only flexing words could take inches off my thighs!

If only shaping verses was more than mental exercise!

T...

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I like my music ANGRY. My favourite types of song

Are those that call for change, to try to right some wrongs.

I’ll take lyrics about war or peace or duty socially bound,

Over any heartfelt soulful dirge about love lost or found.

But it seems my favourite protest songs have limited success,

Judging by the fact the world is still in such a mess.

The answers blowing in the win...

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Preamble: for this Saturday's theme of DANCE.

I hear music. The beat begins.

It taps gently at my consciousness and slowly enters in.

It slides through my skull like the lift of warm caffeine

Raising pulse, slowing thoughts, it’s as if I’m in a dream…

Step by step I’m vanquished, it takes over my brain

It numbs my higher functions, until nothing remains

But the essence of...

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Preamble: I wrote this shortly after my wedding 2 years ago, but never found the chance to perform it. I've revived it for today's Rhymers' theme of "weddings". It is a slam so it looks strange on paper, so I also made this video.

https://youtu.be/3jjfTqm7PyM

I have so many thanks to give for this special day!

First, the weather: my eternal gratitude to whichever Supreme Being or natural...

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Preamble: see below for explanation that is too long to preamble here.

I didn’t know I was still angry till the day I heard you’d died.

Suddenly the old bitterness is welling up inside

I haven’t given you a thought for literally years

But now I find my eyes are filling up with tears

Not of grief, but of re-awakened pain

Reliving the sting of your words all over again

I’m not ...

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The battle begins -

Poetry behind my eyes

Will not let me sleep. 

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A midnight black sky

Seen in the bedroom mirror

By eyes that won't close

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I should be working

My brain has reached its limits

And wants to drink wine

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They say it’s class warfare, they say the rich have won

They don’t understand the hurly burly’s not done

Their smug sense of victory will be somewhat misplaced

It’s hard to be elite when the planet’s laid to waste

They plunder and they pillage and they take more than they need

They’re selling all our futures just to feed their selfish greed

They think they’re sitting pretty,...

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School swimming lesson

The hell of nineteen wet kids

To get dried and dressed

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Preamble: In honour of this week's Rhymers' theme "children", here is a poem written in collaboration with my 7-year-old son.

Some people say they don’t like children

But they are wrong.

We aren’t the ones dropping the bombs.

We aren’t the ones firing the guns.

Children don’t kill other children.

The guy on the ground, he’s just doing as he’s told

The job that he’s paid f...

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I walk up from the bus stop at the end of each weekday,

I know I’ll cause a ruckus, every step along the way.

One hundred yards, four houses, four front gardens, four closed gates,

Behind each one a canine sentinel does lie in wait.

To take this path I have to steel my nerves, or ears at least,

And take care not to get a scare from these four furry beasts.

Am I always to be hound...

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Please consider watching this slam live on Youtube (with subtitles):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPo1FANFUTU

I can’t help writing in rhyme. I do it all the time.

Rhymes sneak into my texts unbidden

Or if they’re not there, or are too well hidden

Their absence clangs like a bell

And I feel compelled to find them somewhere… bear, care, dare, hair, tear… repair, despair…

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Just for fun...

From the moment they first met, they got on rather well,

They soon became an item, and deep in love they fell,

Were made for each other, as far as they could tell,

Pretty soon they were hearing the sound of wedding bells.

They set up home together, and things were going well

Until they took a shower, then broken was the spell

As it turned out he used soap,...

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Sometimes it bugs me

to have to chain up my chest

to keep it under control

And a few days each month

I’m afraid to stand up

for fear of disaster below

The price to pay for having a way

to make two little humans

and call them my own

One of whom

will make the same complaints

once she is fully grown.

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You have fallen asleep with the radio on.

Electromagnetic waves push inanities

into air that should at this time be only for breathing.

I lie and wait for the dull click

that will bring silence billowing down

onto your slumber and my wakefulness

knowing that the same sound, too soon

will tear me from the sleep

I should have accepted I needed

much earlier.

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This poem really is a slam. Please consider watching this live performance on my youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7whtE5vY2cg

I feel the gaze of the man I love as I cover myself in chemicals.

His head behind mine in the mirror, still sitting in the still-warm bed

He’s going to be late if he doesn’t get a move on.

He watches as I paint my face

Foundation, co...

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WARNING

This world is under poetic surveillance

The POETS are watching

No image, sound or experience is guaranteed safe

from being found… inspiring

They will take feelings you didn’t know you had

and turn them into words you didn’t know you needed

They may not know who they are

but once they get started

they can be unstoppable and unforgettable.

An...

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Just for fun...

Can someone, somehow, kindly please explain

How I can fall in love with someone’s brain?

Pure eye candy you certainly are not

It’s not your looks that make me feel quite hot

Your mind distills great learning with such ease

It makes me feel quite weak around the knees

Your words of wisdom bring such clarity

You open up my mind and set it free.

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Some of my best poetry is written in the space

between drunkenness and pain

Before I drink too much to regret

Or fall asleep and forget

Some of my best poetry is written in the space

between thoughtfulness and folly

When I’m mad enough for words to whirl

but not for blood to boil

When I’m mad enough for blood to boil

but not enough for it to spill

When ...

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The French are really rather rude

When talking about British food.

They cannot help but be quite mean

When it comes to tasting our cuisine.

They mock our beef with roasted spuds,

Our gravy soaking Yorkshire puds:

Swear vinegar on fish and chips

Would never make it past their lips

They claim the British high cream tea

Can’t match French haute pattiserie

In th...

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Please.

Just five minutes more.

Just five more minutes alone, in the quiet

Before I walk through that door

Return to the noise

And heed the voices.

Just five more minutes

Before I resume my duties

The chores that are never done

The battles that will never be won.

Just five minutes more to call my own

Before I become once more the exclusive property of cha...

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