The Echoes poetry competition to celebrate Write Out Loud's 20th anniversary is now open.  Judged by Neil Astley.

Competition closes in 28 days, 5 hours. Get details and Enter.

Recent Comments

Stephen Gospage on Grave Matters
2 seconds ago

Stephen Gospage on Lost Future
15 minutes ago

Stephen Gospage on Favorite Poet
24 minutes ago

Stephen Gospage on Upside Down
34 minutes ago

TOM MERTON on Aisha Suleman
1 hour ago

John Coopey on Favorite Poet
2 hours ago

Mike McPeek on Headed Nowhere
3 hours ago

Graham Sherwood on Favorite Poet
4 hours ago

Graham Sherwood on The Light Shines On
4 hours ago

Hélène on Favorite Poet
4 hours ago

Bill's book

Time is a River, a collection of 50 of my poems, has been published and is available from amazon or from the publisher at cyberwit.net

“These poems reveal the poet’s capacity for emotional intensity. Here we notice the magnificent union of form and thought. The chief interest of these poems is the employment of imagery with extraordinary effectiveness. Particularly impressive is attractive dict...

Read and leave comments (0)

🌷(1)

Hong Kong Monkey

Hong Kong Monkey

 

In the Shing Mun Country Park,

his hairy right hand rests

on the fence. My second cousin

 

once

removed by countless millennia.

His sad eyes stare

 

into my soul

a creature

born to be free but caged

 

by forces beyond its control.

Can he see the difference

between us? He lives

 

in the present

so can never know

his dest...

Read and leave comments (1)

Cyberwonky

Cyberwonky

 

In virtual villas up silicon valleys

where slithering software saves smart system scans

as digital data on double-click disk drives,

pixelling programmers podcast their plans.

 

So beware blogging browsers with up-to-date hardware

fragmenting folders and battering RAM,

smashing your windows, uploading your icons,

cluttering your desktop with cookies and s...

Read and leave comments (2)

computers

Julian's Yeats poem reminds me of one of Shelley's:-

ENGLAND IN 1819

An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn, mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in ...

Read and leave comments (0)

Old Court Gig

Read a couple of poems at Old Court, Wigan for the first time and enjoyed it. Great atmosphere, great poems and (dare I say it?) great compere. Hope to see you all next time.

 

Bill Lythgoe

Read and leave comments (0)

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message