God could have sent his Son

a million different ways.

But look at what he chose.

I'll tell you what it says.

 

It says open your hearts,

It says be generous and free,

Look outside your little box

That's what he's saying to you and me.

 

Mary was not respectable,

Pregnant before she was wed.

Open your hearts to unmarried mothers.

That's really ...

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to get what one wants

 

and find one does not want it.

 

Life's Chinese whispers

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Singles evening at Tesco's, I see you

Far off, by the tomatoes, I see you

 

The shop is full of beautiful women.

You're better than all of those, I see you.

 

Elusive, I follow you through the store.

Persistent, for my heart knows, I see you.

 

I lose you, then find you by Medicines.

Buying anti-tapeworm dose, I see you.

 

I close in, as you ret...

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Human beings aren't hominid cattle.

Each one has their daily battle.

 

This woman's blind, that man is deaf.

Each one has their daily battle.

 

He needs escape, she wants marriage.

They too have their daily battle.

 

A couple grieving for soldier son.

They hate the word, but have their battle.

 

He has a stammer, she hates her weight.

Please d...

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You are your own worst enemy, they say.

I have cut through the thickets of your mind

toward the centre,

and in the thickest of thickets, wondered

where is it?

Is there a centre?

 

The journey into your mind

is dream sequences,

shifting dead-ends,

teasing landscapes –

WHERE  ARE  YOU?

Come out of the maze and play,

come out and say

who you ...

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Shahla Jahed is dead.

An outrage.

A repulsive act of barbarism

by the religious

against those deemed

irreligious

by the powerful

against the vulnerable

by secret police

against a citizen

by a violent system

against weakness

by men

against a woman 

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Mum always says

“You're in the pink”.

She's alright, that's okay,

I don't mind.

 

My toothbrush is pink,

matches the plastic mug,

pink is fine,

I don't mind.

 

There's a pink stripe

in the good old peejays

in with white and blue.

Quite like that effect.

 

Got a pink shirt,

shows the dirt, but it's okay,

wore it on Saturday,

...

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Willing, worn-out worthies

working weekly, wearily

within wonderful wizardry.

Worriers, wordsmiths, wanderers,

worshipers, wounded, wild,

winners, whores, weirdos,

whisperers, whistleblowers, wrong-righters.

Whinings, warnings, warmings,

wishes,

wit,

wisdom?

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A seventy kilo person

is seven billion trillion atoms.

That's all, so they say.

Or is it?

What is an atom?

An atom is a nucleus

surrounded by electrons.

The atom's nucleus is a speck,

one millionth of a billionth

of its volume.

Less than a flea in a cathedral,

or an ant in a stadium,

Atoms are nothing,

they are empty, empty, empty,

we are ...

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Damn!

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Don't hug the black dog

Don't feed it, don't stroke it,

It may be howling, prowling

outside, don't let it in.

Ignore it's mournful eyes

its sighs, the bark from the dark.

Ruthless, give it no roof.

Throw it out, starve it.

Set the other dogs on it.

 

Don't be dogged by the black dog.

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Of course the dead walk

They stroll through realms of splendour

Why bother with here?

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In the gutters and drains of our cities
In the dead ends of their parents' minds
In a twilight of angry resentment,
a world where only weakness is kind

are empty brains
with empty angry hearts
and empty hours
and lousy, crappy starts

In a fog of mind-altering substances,
and an absence of ethical notions,
are children with adult bodies, 
starved, menacing infant emotio...

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Breathe in.

Breathe in while reading this,

you breathe in dust,

you must.

Dust is not just dust.

It can be choking breath,

the kiss of death.

But these motes are stuff of life.

Dead skin cells they say;

Well, they were beautiful when you wore them.

Now they are dots of silver splendour

swirling and twirling in sunbeams.

Tomorrow they join a tri...

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Come little green men,

you are needed

to fill our skies and eyes,

take lives and terrorise.

 

Come little green men,

make us fight you,

shoulder to shoulder with each other,

every human being a brother.

 

Come little green men,

make us forget

the million walls suspicion builds

the million graves our hate has filled.

 

Come little green...

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The convolvulus wants it all

to have, to own, entwine, consume

nothing too large or small.

Condemned to famine, it chases banquets.

If possible it would devour

You.

It will never be full.

 

The ivy, too, must have.

It wants endlessly,

bewitched by what it sees.

It whispers in the ear,

sucks emotion dry,

its tentacles contaminate.

It will n...

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The waiting is over. The poem which received the most votes in the 'Biting the Bullet' competition was

 

'Biting the Bullet' by Alvin Guinessberg

 

http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=16205

 

 

2nd place Isobel (2) 'Bullet'

http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=16581

 

 

3rd place Andy N 'Biting the Bul...

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To make a pancake

Take egg, flour, milk and water.

Life, life, life and life

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This is an invitation to vote in the 'Biting the Bullet' competition which ran here in September. Which poem would you place first from those listed below? The winner receives a £20 Waterstones voucher. I am not voting but will use a casting vote if there's a tie, so there will only be one winner. They can receive their prize by post, electronically or presentation at an open mic night of their...

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From the plane

your home was a small white square.

From the plane

your pool was a tiny blue dot.

From the plane

there was something by the pool

that might have been you,

though through the tears

it was hard to know. (1)

 

Hard to know – like you. (2)

But worth the effort. (3)

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Hello all. This is a final reminder for the BITING THE BULLET competition. It closes next Thursday Sept 30th then voting by email will take place till the 5th October.

 

All is explained in the original blog, at

 

http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=16110

 

If you are new to the site, please do consider having a go. Lots of people have done so ...

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Some women like to blame their men

and shame their men,

but above all,

tame their men.

Then they lame their men

so they cannot run,

have fun, an hour in the sun,

be young.

 

Some men hit their women,

treat them like a bit of shit,

smack the spirit

out of them,

bravely punch their tit

or stomach pit.

Terrorise the cheerful,

keep ...

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Every day is not

everyday

Real, unreal,

more real, less real.

Mountain heights, wonderful sights

Making love with Mother Nature.

Enjoying her feast for eye and mind,

just today by a sparkling stream,

a chance to dream.

The sea is seen

 

and

 

The scene is seen,

the obscene is seen,

gaping in galleries,

musing in museums,

boggli...

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His loft is tidy in places

in others, dark, dirty, disarranged.

There is treasure in the dust,

buried treasure, buried seeds,

longings, loves, lingering echoes

of lost life in the filtered light.

The hopes, the work,

craziness that didn’t work.

His grandfather’s radio

that will never work again.

He accuses himself of sentiment

and pleads guilty.

 

...

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The moment

when little person pops out

of wife's undercarriage

is so quick.

Nature is so slick,

the drop of a jaw,

no more

and it's done -

a life has begun.

 

It's too fast

The moment should last.

I want to hold the moment,

examine it this way and that,

feel it for all it incredibly is.

 

But rather than hold the moment

I hold ...

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Many of us enjoyed the Pandora's Box competition that followed the demise of WOLOP which, again, was a source of fun and interest. A successor to Pandora's Box was mooted but nothing came of it. I think there may be some interest in trying again and to help things along am giving a modest prize for a new competition.

 

Rules

 

T...

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The hand ballet,

your bright mind dancing,

fingers singing,

fashioning passion

from thin air,

soul gestures,

laying hold of hope,

dismissing despair,

daring to delve, wisely

into the whys,

caressing the future,

sculpting life.

 

While I sit with

arms crossed

like a cripple

at a ceilidh.

Admiring, longing.

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Searching for centre

Looking for the inner ring

Failing and weeping

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Loathsome father,

the farther I am from you,

            the better,

you strait-laced, life-denying,

            mediocre old bore.

 

Get off my back.

Let me live.

With the money.

Mine when you die? Too long.

Mine now, old man.

The punchline is “goodbye”

though you wouldn't know a joke

if it slapped you in your sanctimonious face.

 

No...

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I am your future self, the caged aged

            look at me and know.

I am wrinkled, gaping, helpless

I am cared for

sitting, shitting,

fed, fed up, trapped, kept

I am cared for

Lifted and shifted

Rubbed and scrubbed

I am cared for

 

Please touch me

I am hungry hungry hungry for hugs

an embrace

to be clasped in the arms of love

but a ...

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Men

need a den,

I need a den,

now and then,

no that's not true,

again and again

to keep me sane.

I'm not a louse,

she's got the house.

I love her to bits,

but get on her tits.

It suits us both,

aids 'personal growth',

I've done the chores,

it's not sloth.

 

Is it defeat,

this need to retreat?

Is it focusing, or hiding,

...

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Science fiction lies

that we can escape the cage.

Good films, though, great dreams

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There will come a time

when this mind

stops

this brain rots

its thoughts wash out to sea

and that'll be me

gone

or moved on

it's in doubt

the jury's out.

And is there, then, a trial?

Ah, the Judge.

No more shadows or pathetic self-justification,

ultimate mirror, showing what was right,

blinding light

on my life, this dubious convoy of ...

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ferment of feelings,

hunger for life,

kaleidoscope of possibilities,

energised weariness,

yearning to reach out and touch,

to spurn usual distractions,

to encounter

 

smell of leather

waft of sea

sound of Mozart

or 'I want to break free'

 

unsettled, 

casting around

floating, waiting for wind

free of the ground

 

tried new ...

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Clouds

lazy drifting

shape shifting

rain gifting

spirits lifting

 

Sky

gulls wheeling

world ceiling

vast feeling

mind reeling

 

Space

planets sailing

comets trailing

stars failing

chaos prevailing?

 

Beyond Space

order reigning

reality maintaining

never waning

always remaining

 

love training

 

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A wonderful monk said "Live"

Ewan does nothing but give.

Gerard wanted rain for roots

Annie's working for green shoots.

Aidan, the enemy of apathy

Nelson, man of universal sympathy.

Jack's mind was wholesome clarity

Chris is Mister Joyful Integrity.

Frank's 'It's a Wonderful Life'

Living with my lovely wife.

 

The above is a response to Jackie Hagan's...

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Bastions 'gainst barbed wire barbarity

because of you we know beauty.

 

Beautiful Britain,

lovely, deep and hidden,

bluebells, wells and dells.

 

You fight for our right

to say this or that way

is gorgeous, open and free.

You combat the fat

who say go away

it all belongs to me.

 

Enchanting Britain

A secret world of surprises for our...

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Puff, pant, puff pant

Oh dear, I'm late for the competition.

Why am I always (puff) late? (pant)

I must hurry, they might (gasp) let me in (pant)

Nearly there. Come on Pandy you can do it.

Aaaaargh.

 

Oh dear, now look what I've done,

spilled everything.

And grazed my elbow.

Has anyone got a plaster?

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He’s a dud fuddy

A fud fuddy dud

a dud duddy fud

a fuddy fuddy duddy

 

he is squaaaaaaaaaaare.

 

Shops at Netto, one man ghetto,

He is tragic, got no magic.

He's crutonic, so moronic,

socks with sandals, got no angles,

he's a nerd, he is nunty,

What a dag, he's so pikie

He's uncool, a proper goober,

He's a tangy, smelly zooker.

 

A...

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Is it okay to leave out the sky?

Is it alright to not ask why?

 

Houses are easy,

so's a garden or yard.

But the sky is a bugger,

it's too f***ing hard.

 

The sea makes me feel stupid

I can't tell waves apart.

The ocean's mostly a mystery.

A picture's no good, I want a chart.

 

People are simple in jigsaws,

unfortunately not in real life...

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She opened her box

The world filled it with itself

Ready for next time

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There is nothing magnificent or mysterious in this house

You need feel no awe, no hesitation.

Waitrose and daytime TV

have rotted our souls,

the world's pulse is not felt here.

But the chairs salute us,

frozen palace guards,

defenders 'gainst chaos.

 

Not even pot plants.

They are alive,

life is always blemished

and the blemished is banished.

...

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Your text was a touch,
tender and twinkling,

mellowing, unwrinkling

my furrowed heart,

your mind alighting on mine
as lacewing fly on leaf.

So lovely and light.

Angel-breath,

a petal wafting through the ether.

Your caring, a kiss.

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Slow down.

Saunter, speed less.

Stroll.

Steady on, slacken off.

Snail pace, shuffle along,

Step by step

Stop striding.

Softly does it.

Space the action.

Stop sometimes, stay still.

Centre yourself.

Something is there to be sensed.

Someone is smiling.

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Sometimes graceful

always life-enhancing,

often battered, bombed or broken -

bridges.

Hard to build, easy to destroy,

Years in the growing, rubble

in the time it takes

for an eye to widen.

 

An unforseen weakness,

a thoughtless moment,

an attack, neglect,

or simply being asked to carry

too much weight.

 

Wilder knew it was futile

...

Read more …

 Hello all. It's my privilege this month to announce the winner of March's WOLOP vote. Isobel will be back next month after her 'break'. Nominated poems were as follows

Scar – Chris Dawson

Mr. Piano – Marianne Daniels

The First to Depart – Ray Miller “painfully poignant and written with a gorgeous flow between great warmth and regret at the passing of the time”

Up the Tops – Rac...

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My poor little cup protests

its fourth dishwasher trip in two days.

Get it off your chest, small friend,

we are in this together,

this family weekend,

this vortex of demands,

this avalanche of requirements,

these days of the rumbling dishwasher

drowned out by shouting children.

This living photo-album,

blur of beloved faces,

this noise and love,

...

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       No words can express

the grace into bronze caressed

        by a master's hand

 

The photo is of a piece by Stephen Broadbent  http://sbal.co.uk/

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Forgot coat

Nuisance

May get cold

 

Forgot water bottle

Annoying

Will get thirsty

 

Forgot map

Troublesome

May get lost

 

Forgot lunch

Bothersome

Will get hungry

 

Forgot wallet

Darn

May have to borrow

 

Forgot car radio front

Dangerous

Will have to listen to thoughts

 

Very dangerous

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How to sleep?

How to leave behind

the cluttered mind?

Bric a brac thoughts,

car boot memories.

Table sale of dreams and wishes,

whirl of used words

Autumn fayre of worries,

Attic sale of places,

Jumble sale of faces.

 

Jumble sale?

Perhaps not.

Who would buy in this flea market?

 

How, then, to sleep

when the mind is a Saturday mo...

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Mum says everything must go

and is right of course

 

The shed is black

with more layers of creosote

than even dad could know or count.

It was his father's before him

Such a job to move it here

 

I walk in.

I hold my breath.

How dare I?

How dare I invade and destroy this sanctum?

 

This is where Grandad worked

on that beautiful children...

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Who needs mains?

Make your own drains.

Who profits -

someone must profit they say -

Life profits!

Life and all things green and free.

I profited

profited from living with pigs

Yes pigs, try them,

and ducks and geese and

noisy quarrelsome cocks

and capable, crazy, lovely people.

For water, the waterfall and well,

For warmth the wood and the...

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They want to cut my hair

They say it's wild and woolly.

It seems its length upsets them,

and so I'm being bullied.

 

I like my hair this length,

I think I'll grow it longer.

It's warm and natural and free

Like Samson it makes me stronger.

 

They're trying to wear me down

The dripping tap technique.

They say it makes me strange,

that I look lik...

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Emasculation would be too good for the little bastards
 
is the immediate feeling
 
followed by
 
Flagellation would be too good for the little turds 
 
The birch, the stocks, wonderful ideas
Why did we get rid of them?
 
But
There's always a but isn't there.
 
This is actually getting me nowhere
Beating the air
chasing shadows
wasting venom on boys
on their ...

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In this place a minute lingers the full sixty

 

                                    we feel, taste and touch each second

 

                                                a syrup of seconds

 

                                    time stickily oozing and dripping

 

                                                hours like a stalactite dripping, days

 

    ...

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Playing among the headstones

Running around the tombs

Forgetting within them lie the bones

Which once resided in wombs

 

Skipping around the marble

Hiding behind a cross

Experiencing life as a marvel

Ignoring its hovering loss

 

One stops and reads an inscription

A shadow flits over her face

then she hears the shouted instruction

“Come on. Giv...

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It is 1975 on Antons Road

in Halewood, a new town old when built,

old with tired people thrown here by fate

and urban renewal, overrun with children

and here comes Emma, part of the flotsam

and she is crying

 

“What's wrong, Emma”

“They say am men'ally handicapt,

and they took Ginny away and said

ah carn marry Alan, and

ah carn have no more babies

...

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This month I will keep my temper

and eat healthily

and exercise three times a week

and be tidier.

I will keep right

 

Today I pigged out on junk

to cheer myself up after arguing with that moron,

I mean the missus,

who said I was fat, lazy and untidy,

trouble is she was right, I have not kept right.

 

Recalculating

 

This week I will help...

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A coffin.

A small box

in which a dead person is placed.

A coffin life.

A small box

in which a barely living person is placed

to slowly die.

A place of no movement,

no colour, no music,

no laughter, no shining eyes,

no touching of heart or soul.

A place of confinement,

gloomy and narrow,

life dwindling away,

within grey muffling walls,

...

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Sandstone, the softest of rocks

Yet after a thousand years

here you still are

arms spreading wide to us all

speaking of life

of warmth and fertility

 

You are pagan

made by a pagan

I am not of your faith

But the man who made you knew

that life springs from a source divine.

Your face is not empty

and there may still be blessing

in reaching ...

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Simple when you know how

when you don't

when it will not yield its secret

tormenting

 

There in my hands is the answer

easy years ago, not now. How?!!

and how could I have forgotten?

bamboozling

 

It is becoming obsessive

playing on what passes for my mind

it is getting out of proportion

excruciating

 

A child masters it with ease

with grace, panache and flair

while my adult fumbl...

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