Complexity
The circle won't be squared
The edge is not single
Punches are pulled
Layers multiply
Angles are multi-faceted
Facets are many-angled.
Wheels contain wheels
One boobytrapped thing leads to another.
Turns are twisted.
Twists are turned.
Plots thicken
Games are played.
There are ambushes as
memories materialise and pain persists.
Curve b...
Wednesday 28th December 2011 3:10 pm
Hills in Winter
Horizontal hail hood-hammering
Pellet pinging, kag rattling,
Wind-chilled skin grim-flaying.
Comedy of urination
'gainst neat dry stone wall,
uncomprehending sheep watching
fumbling in six layers of clothing
with frozen fingers and a man-wobbling wind,
to whisk away the water spray
where it will.
Bilberry and heather.
Grousing gro...
Tuesday 20th December 2011 4:11 pm
Father. Christmas
Dad.
Slack-skinned, sofa-pinned giant.
Hunched, pasty-faced, wasted.
At the heart of that Christmas,
but on the edge.
Saying little, watching all,
Soaking in life and love,
as Death stalked him.
The Twelve Days of Christmas.
The voice that filled theatres
now painfully weak.
But he got his line out.
Almost falsetto
Eight Maids a milking.
...Sunday 11th December 2011 9:56 am
The Itch
The itch itches,
a thousand little mind-witches,
chafing and thirsting,
bursting,
craving,
pacing the paving,
longing to scratch,
to match
inner to outer.
A mouse in the house.
A louse.
A hundred mice,
a thousand lice.
Fickle peace,
tickle ruined,
the goad
to take the road,
tiny, mini, gremlinny nibbling,
quibbling.
...
Friday 2nd December 2011 11:52 am
Pillow Fights
Is anything more fun
than a pillow fight?
Childlike, innocent, fresh, simple,
always ending in laughter,
sometimes in clouds of feathers
and parental protests.
You love the one you 'hurt'.
You laugh till nearly sick,
glad to be alive,
overflowing with mischief and glee.
Few things more painful
than the hissed venom of the 'grown-up' fight
ly...
Monday 21st November 2011 4:18 pm
Hippies
At war with war
in love with love
cheerfully suspicious
of crap from above.
Believing in peace
Chasing the vibe
Turning on, dropping out
becoming a new tribe.
Changing the world
and how things run
by blowing your mind
and having fun
No status or suits
they wanted unity.
To hell with respectability
it's about communit...
Sunday 6th November 2011 7:54 am
Nurikabe
Traveling by night, to regain the tribe.
Infinite, invisible walls
misdirect
impede
impossible to skirt.
Our friend,
from our tents, we sense
your distress
We long for you to fill the empty place.
We pray your nurikabe
materialise
so your eyes
may know them.
We pray strength for you
to demolish the walls.
We will lend ours.
...Tuesday 1st November 2011 4:07 pm
Thou
You have to use words
but words cannot capture God
You have to use words
but words cannot capture
You have to use words
but words cannot
You have to use words
but words
You have to use words
but
You have to use words
You have to
You
Tuesday 1st November 2011 7:35 am
Colours of California
Seeking fish,
snowy egrets stalk the shallows,
white as the far snowy Sierra Nevada summits.
The breakers battering Pacific Valley Bluff
are as white as the comical prize chef's hat of the chili cook-out winner,
worn with pride and good humour.
He is white.
White, one of the race that is fading,
losing the wave,
the white surf wave .
Brown for the s...
Friday 14th October 2011 11:11 am
Communion
cave-crouching morning, sun-ignoring,
bright clean screen preferring.
Figments and windmills.
Wearing no socks today,
- the lawn speaks and invites
through skin, naked uncaged foot fondles grass
naked uncaged mind fondles life
engages, plays, resonates, re-tunes
eats plum from twig
biting raw living sweet flesh
red juice runs like blood down chin.
Wi...
Friday 16th September 2011 11:35 pm
Camped
Camped by the line
you don't notice the trains.
Jousting with words
you don't notice their brains
or feel for their souls
The radio's on
you hear the sounds
They push your buttons
you give a few pounds.
The bed is warm.
Promised yourself
you would be alert
Paid fifty quid
for this bargain shirt.
...
Wednesday 10th August 2011 2:22 pm
Walks at Hebden Bridge Sunday 21st
Hello all
The walks planned for August 21st around Hebden Bridge are advertised in the News section.
http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=22070
This is by way of encouragement (or perhaps warning). The hope is that participants will take the opportunity to read out their favourite rural poetry at stopping points. So, if you want to take part, let me know (eit...
Thursday 4th August 2011 10:44 am
Men and tears
Men
Macho Reluctant
Hiding Submerging Suppressing
Sadness Joy Failure Celebration
Feeling Crying Weeping
Liberated Emotional
Tears
Saturday 30th July 2011 8:06 am
LMF
You have seen broken, burning men
pulled from broken burning planes.
You have watched as bombers turn into fiery, flaming torches,
Lighting up the night, falling, falling, falling,
full of your friends,
so frightening.
You have seen the wrecked corpses
in wrecked machines.
You have prayed as a dozen searchlights catch you naked in their beam
as the flak cree...
Thursday 28th July 2011 11:57 pm
A Walk with Asylum Seekers
Walking in the Welsh hills,
This is really very pleasant,
With Jamal, Azizi, Ali.
Oh no, they've caught a pheasant.
They did it with their bare hands
Got to admit they're quick.
Surrounded it, then closed in -
a bloody clever trick.
These poor guys are destitute.
They're looking at a dinner
The government keeps them starving.
They're hun...
Sunday 24th July 2011 4:49 pm
The wee men and the bin man
The burly jock smiles gap-toothed down
unshaved, yellow-jacketed, leather-gloved
at the three wee men
eagerly clustered by the garden gate.
"Hellooo"
"Hellooo"
Complete, beaming, mutual approval.
He sweats the bin away,
their rapt admiration blessing his back,
returns the bin,
returns the warmth.
His day has been made fragrant.
Thursday 7th July 2011 10:09 pm
boko-maru haiku
Sole to sole. Blissful
Our feet and eyes touch in love
Soul to soul. Blissful.
Warning – this poem contains “foma”
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bokononism
For 40 years I've been fascinated by CAT'S CRADLE, a novel by Kurt Vonnegut. Even though I disagree with his main conclusion it is immensely provocative (and amusing). In Cat's Cradle, the supreme act of worsh...
Saturday 18th June 2011 11:47 am
Sox appeal
It may sound corny but I love you
I want to feel and heal your soul
Every bone in my body wants you
Size 10 is perfect
My feelings are big
You've heard of arch-enemies – I'm your arch-friend
I know I have a tendon-cy to exaggerate
but there's little doubt in my mind
we would have a ball together.
I want to take sole possession of you
nibble your toes
...
Tuesday 7th June 2011 7:07 pm
ESCAPE. Result
May's ESCAPE competition received 27 entries. Remarkably, 15 of these received votes. It was astonishing to me how varied people's preferences are. It's an encouragement to all of us – there is almost certainly someone out there who likes our poetry, even if others don't. We're all different.
Taking both first and second choices into account, four poems had the equal highest num...
Monday 6th June 2011 12:29 am
Escape. Last chance to vote.
There is just over one more day to vote for Escape poems - the details are at
http://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=21245
The response has been surprisingly slow, particularly from those who've entered. Some people have hinted that reading 26 poems is a bit much. In that sense the competition may be a victim of its own success.
Be that as it may, voting closes...
Saturday 4th June 2011 9:07 pm
Paths
There’s a path near his home
curves this way and that
across the rough ground.
Logically it should be straight.
But people have made it that way.
There is a path near his heart,
which curves that way and this
across rough ground.
No doubt it should be straight.
But people have made it that way.
There’s a path in his life,
which is beyond a...
Thursday 2nd June 2011 9:47 am
Escape. Time to Vote
Thank you everyone for your entries in the ESCAPE competition which ran during May. They encompass an extraordinary breadth of experience, from pleasure and beauty to sadness and suffering. To read them has been a privilege, albeit sometimes a painful one. The way we turn life into words never ceases to amaze me.
This is an invitation to vote in the competition. The poems are as liste...
Wednesday 1st June 2011 12:15 am
The Cynic
The cynic's narrative is familiar,
the familiar disdainful script slips easily
off the acid tongue which lurks
behind the curled lip.
The familiar bored tone,
The familiar raised eyebrow and tired contemptuous amusement,
the familiar unspoken conspiracy of superiority,
the familiar stale charm and shallow cheer,
the familiarity of 2011's world spirit.
H...
Thursday 26th May 2011 9:19 pm
Atoms get around
Atoms abound
They get around.
In your body reside
Atoms which were once inside
Aristotle
Bronte (Charlotte, Emily and Ann)
Curie (Marie and Pierre)
Dietrich
Eliot
Fonteyn
Genghis Khan (and Gandhi)
Henry the Eighth (and the other seven)
Ivan the Terrible
Jesus
Kennedies (John, Robert, Edward....)
Lauder (and Lauda)
Marilyn Monroe
...
Monday 23rd May 2011 12:25 am
Free will
No wind blowing
nary a breeze,
no unease,
influence-empty,
voices stilled.
Dead calm.
Phone off the hook
Emotion off-line.
Analysis.
Paralysis?
Go deep, make a leap.
“Action breaks the circle of the given.”
Was it free?
Did I choose?
Who is me?
Wednesday 18th May 2011 12:39 pm
We
The moon beam bounces off her beautiful bum
as she does what has to be done
bent outside the tent
naturally.
She sees me
and a star twinkles in her eye
to match the million in the sky,
blinding me with her light
she sends projectile loving.
That'll teach you, she says.
Aye, it's one lesson after another
from this liquid woman.
Wednesday 4th May 2011 11:03 pm
Escape. Prize Competition
First blogged this 26th April, but it should probably sit in this month's blogs as well as a reminder.
Many of us enjoyed the competitions which ran for a few months towards the end of last year. There may be some interest in trying again, so here goes.
Rules
The theme is ESCAPE. The poem, or poems, have to have something, however tenuo...
Monday 2nd May 2011 8:18 pm
Pompeii
Thank you for dying
so dramatically and suddenly.
Our archaeologists and tourists
appreciate it, appreciate
your frescoes and fountains,
brothels and bakeries,
your eerie, grey corpses.
Even Pink Floyd are grateful.
Your emperor was no help.
If here, he too
would be a doom-faced corpse
as you are now.
Corpse-town Pompeii,
Vulcan's pla...
Saturday 23rd April 2011 10:34 am
The Invaders
The invaders
SHOUT
constantly,
cause mayhem,
pocket barbarians,
overwhelming defence,
maintain barrage
CHARGE
onto my lap,
demanding the reading of books
and my shredded brain obliges.
They laugh
They cry
They bang
They throw
They rough
They tumble
They fall
They rise
They devour life
age two, three and four,
...
Tuesday 12th April 2011 11:42 am
Two candles
Two candles.
Two candlesticks.
One, a dull green sea-floor bottle,
a scuba-diving find,
The candle of freedom.
The other of mellow olive wood,
carved, gracious, twisted, spiral,
bought in Bethlehem,
the candle of faith.
The candle of freedom wouldn't light tonight.
Many attempts, several matches, one result.
It lit, though, from the candle of fait...
Sunday 10th April 2011 12:38 am
Witches
Why were there witches?
Why, what were they to do,
widows and virgins, women deprived
of the love of men by the death of men?
Those warriors with their wars,
always a'killing of each other,
leaving the grieving, the surviving
and the loneliness to women.
No bigamy or polygamy.
The hunger for family
cries on village edge.
How were these starvelin...
Sunday 3rd April 2011 9:37 am
Routine is death; Death is routine
Leave home eight fifty five arrive nine twenty six
Leave home eight fifty six arrive nine twenty seven
Leave home eight fifty seven arrive nine twenty eight
Leave home eight fifty eight arrive nine twenty nine
Leave home eight fifty nine arrive nine thirty
Leave home nine o'clock die in head-on smash
Leave home one minute past nine arrive ten thirty two
Delayed...
Wednesday 23rd March 2011 10:06 pm
Our secrets
The barber and priest hear and know
The cabbie hears and sees – she knows.
The policeman picks up the pieces,
He knows, all too well he knows.
The tax inspector and debt collector.
They know.
The Childline worker listens and knows
The social worker knows and acts
The journalist knows the facts
he claims. Hmmm.
Fellow-prisoners know, but not mates
...
Sunday 20th March 2011 10:46 am
No point; point
No point pulling the curtains
No point making the bed
Waste of time picking up clothes
Futile cleaning his head.
He thinks today will be lost, will be compost
a day of maggots, twenty four hours of weevils
A shadow lies over it, doomed from the start
It's a day that doesn't rhyme.
Or scan.
There's no point, it's all out of joint.
S...
Thursday 17th March 2011 7:19 pm
Sausages
Don't tell me what's in a sausage
or found under a toilet seat
I don't want to know what lives in my gut
I'd rather not know what I eat.
I don't want to hear
What inhabits my comb
Nor learn of creepy-crawlies
infesting my home.
Keep me ignorant
of what I'm breathing
or what down the plughole
might be seething.
They say there's millio...
Tuesday 15th March 2011 3:49 pm
The Poem
The poem was a friend,
the tried and trusted companion
of countless open-mics,
an anthology, blogs,
and three slams,
one a triumph.
He loved that poem,
loved the fact that others loved it too,
sometimes read it aloud
to himself,
caught himself,
as it lay on a table, touching it, patting it,
looking at the crumpled, much-traveled paper
with gen...
Friday 11th March 2011 10:48 am
Lie back and enjoy
Is there anything like a bath?
This wonderful, warm womb
in which the weary wash away what irks them
to the sound of small grunts of cosseted pleasure.
A throne!
A tub of splendour,
in which aching limbs can luxuriate
and from which tired minds may survey the world.
I'm not choosy,
don't need a jacuzzi.
Just soap and bubbles
to forget my...
Thursday 24th February 2011 4:06 pm
Stupid crows
Above the green grass,
against the blue sky,
below the grey clouds,
two black crows
thuggishly mobbed another,
an albino,
chasing, harassing,
bully-banishing
"Leave him alone," I shouted
"Stupid birds, he's only another crow.
Can't you see the world is coloured?"
"You should talk", croaked a crow.
"Yeah, your lot do it", said the other.
"Maybe", I said, embarrass...
Thursday 17th February 2011 10:14 pm
Beyond the Garden #6
The angel ushered him on.
Dense, impenetrable, jungle parted,
paths opened for the gleaming, smiling figure
with joyous eyes.
It did not seem real
His breath came in short pants.
The track rose steadily
It did not seem real.
A gaudy parrot flew clacking through the creepers above,
the jungle was vivid, vivid,
the angel eyes caught him and drew him
aga...
Friday 11th February 2011 10:00 am
Beyond the Garden #5
The jungle edge stirs,
in light from moon,
fireflies, stars.
The small, neat man
stands in his ordered porch,
for a breath of air, before retiring.
Or so he said to himself,
not knowing his blood was speaking
hidden words.
Leaves rustle, monkeys chatter,
the sky clouds over.
Something is stirring out there,
something is stirring in here,
in th...
Monday 7th February 2011 8:11 pm
Beyond the Garden #4
Who am I?
I know that I do not know
who I am and
that is all I know
But this is jungle.
How did I know that,
but I do know
and this a tree,
this a body,
My Body!
nice body,
feels GOOD.
How'd it come?
don't know,
in the jungle
all I know is
this is all I know
I remember nothing
expect nothing
am nothing
I look ...
Tuesday 1st February 2011 10:51 am
Emotion
From where did I get the notion
there's something wrong with emotion?
The human tribe runs on feelings,
and we starve if it's all just dealings.
So I reject staying remote,
I want to connect, want to emote.
Give myself permission to feel,
let myself love, be loved and be real.
A person is not just a book
to open and take a quick look.
Each one...
Wednesday 26th January 2011 10:26 am
Beyond the Garden #3
One morning in his neat little cottage
at seven thirty, his usual time,
he was contentedly brushing his teeth
up and down, the recommended way,
the recommended number of times,
when he smelt smoke.
He opened the window
and looked across his perfect little garden.
And saw
The jungle on fire, fierce crackling,
choking smoke drifting ...
Wednesday 19th January 2011 10:08 am
Beyond the Garden #2
In his pretty cottage
in his nice armchair,
he was sitting, sipping
afternoon tea from the china cup
with the red floral pattern,
when the room gloomed and darkened.
He placed the cup on the saucer
carefully,
rose, went to the window,
and stared past the chintz curtains
at a very large creature,
a wall of brown fur,
sitting on most of his previou...
Sunday 16th January 2011 9:15 am
Beyond the garden
Again, that noise from the jungle.
He straightened in his garden,
that neat, square little patch
behind his smart, small cottage
with its chintz curtains,
and well-behaved, curling plume of smoke,
stared intently,
past the pristine bird table
at the lush foliage, starting
just beyond
his beautifully clipped privet hedge,
and asked himself
What w...
Friday 14th January 2011 6:06 pm
Filling time at grandparent's (Childhood)
Enticed, gazing through criss-cross fencing
at Preston Road station platform.
Ignoring the fierce, frightening through trains,
rushing past his feet,
and British Rail on the far tracks.
He watched the common red ones,
with flared carriage bottoms,
waited for the rare, pale red ones,
with oval end windows, and
the very rare brown ones,
with delicious slam...
Saturday 8th January 2011 10:38 am
Ruchill Park, Glasgow 10 a.m. 29th December 2010
The dear, black and white dog sees the ball,
chases the ball,
all it sees is the ball, and
it does not see the deer, and
for that I am grateful.
For the two deer,
ghosting spirit-like through lovely trees
in this ordinary urban park.
For the dog still by my side,
not disappearing after bobbing white rumps.
I am grateful for it all.
Two minutes a...
Tuesday 4th January 2011 8:27 am
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