You had truly vivid imagination in this one!
I think, I will stick to my old customs...No drinking! ..Smile...Zuzanna

Comment is about The True Story of Christmas (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

That's what makes Christrmas great.
there's nothing better than settling down at 1pm to watch the Queen's speech on the radio, while drinking a few mince pies and eating more than enough glasses of sherry to turn Santa herself anorexic.
Thanks for sorting out my confusion there, Malcolm. And in case I rofget to say it, Happy Easter.
(Hic.)

Comment is about The True Story of Christmas (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Thanks Zuzanna!

Comment is about words tattoo my soul and quotations (blog)

Original item by Daniel Hooks

Interesting how you have captured the politics versa reality in this write.

"At uni they were marching
behind banners red and proud.
They proclaimed the fight for freedom
and they puffed the weed in clouds."

We want FREEDOM for ALL, but the FREEDOM is hard to come by...Great poem!...Zuzanna

Comment is about Triumphant Banners (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Bubo,
I cant say why as I dont understand it, excet that is a great poem but your poem called Transgender Museum touches me so. It could be the Mom in me the protector of children. Im not sure but I really like that poem. Happy holidays to you!

Comment is about Bubo (poet profile)

Original item by Bubo

Too true. Santa should take more care with his list. I know he's not infallible, as he once gave me a DVD recorder instead of the MP3 player I asked for.
Exellent poem, Paul.

Comment is about Christmas time (blog)

Original item by Paul H Tubb

Another competition gem, Malcolm.
It's just as well it wasn't South Korea, or they'd be chawing on another sort of dog entirely.
Eating competitions rock! Although the world pie-eating championship is now based on how quick the contestants can eat one pie, instead of how many they can eat (PC gone mad).
Why do I keep thinking of Sergeant Bilko??

Comment is about World Hot Dog Eating Championship 2007 (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

The lady puffed
patiently, persistently
she puffed with Grace
until Grace expired, (lol)
but still,
the lady puffed.

From Pole position
the wizened leader
extracted his smouldering
glow from every
tobacco strand
in his perfect pipe
then dimmed to nothingness
and the lady puffed.

This poem sums up the art of perseverance. Never give up, and you can become the champion too.
Excellent, Malcolm.

Comment is about World Pipe Smoking Championship (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Well the poems are a bit cheeky,
but not really obscene.
Maybe they misunderstood.
I know I talk about death a lot,
but I don't kill people do I?
I don't tell others to kill people.

I know, it's that hatred thing isn't it?
Because I took the piss out of religion a bit.
It wasn't bad.
A few bits of fake Latin and the odd
giggle at crazy clerics.
Not that bad is it?

If they locked people up for writing offensive poetry, I would be on Death Row.

No less damning than the carbon
was my water footprint.
The oozing pools of sweat
they extracted from my socks
told them of midnight sprinklers
and deep baths.

Joseph K ... shades of Franz Kafka.
Deep stuff, Malcolm.

Comment is about Guilty (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

I have a good friend in New Mexico, Malcolm, and it is exactly as you've described it!
It's a pity they were wrong about December 15th. Maybe they'll get it right one day, eh?
Great stuff.

Comment is about Desert Scorn (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Cheers Dave - I've stopped sulking now, it went so badly it's actually quite funny! If it's fancy dress then I'll do it again (I've got a robin outfit made out of teddy bear fur - it even has a fur balaclava with built-in beak. It's most excellent).
Merry Christmas to ya.

Comment is about London Writers Cafe (group profile)

Original item by London Writers Cafe

Thanks everybody. I came to Belfast for a week in the early seventies and it was not a pretty sight. A year or two a go my wife and I spent three weeks touring Ireland north and south. Belfast, Dublin and the rest of the island were all charming, lively and welcoming.

Thirty years ago I heard twisted garbage from all sides when the 'troubles' were interpreted through a range of different bigotries and hatreds. Let us hope that the prospects of growing peace and prosperity are not knocked off course by new objects of contempt. Passionate Irish peopple have a capacity for great art, love and creativity. When they choose to be negative, they can be vile. Here's to a positive future, building on a pleasant present.

Comment is about Agadir (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Yesterdave,
All my bubbles made a curly wave,
Now Wayne Bent has emptied Elvis' grave,
Oh, I believe in yesterdave.

Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
They shot me in the Old Town street you see,
Oh, yesterdave came suddenly.

Why we
Had to go I don't know, we didn't pay.
I saw,
Some thin thong, now I long for yesterdave.

Yesterdave,
Spotty doge are so much fun to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I just heave in yesterdave's.

Why we
Had to go I don't know, now we must pay.
I read,
Something strong, now I mourn in yesterdave.

Yesterdave,
A UFO came and took their minds away
Now Branson flies them if they want to pay
The clowns all live in yesterdaves.

With apologies to the Bugs.

Sorry your Messiahship Michael Trevasser. Put a Bent word in for me with your Father when he gets his watch fixed.

Comment is about Desert Scorn (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot his secretary. Oh my, Toto, this doesn't look like Kansas. Hello Dave. What are you doing, Dave? Richard Branson -- flying monkeys! What's she gonna look like with a chimney on her? Bang on the button again, Mr Malpoet!

Comment is about Desert Scorn (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Malcom, as always you teach me new things! I loved the story/poem you do such great poems! thanks

Comment is about Agadir (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Tearing earth ripped a hard
working fishing town apart.
and in the scar grew sunbeds.

I am totally in awe of those lines, Malcolm. My own hometown is now a thriving hub for tourists, but in the dark days we never heard a foreign accent. And some people here actually despise them for coming here in peace time... as if they should be ashamed of themselves for not coming while we were killing one another.

Comment is about Agadir (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Had he been able to write, Tony Hancock could have written this.
Or me, another sad clown.
Good stuff, Pete.

Comment is about So long since I laughed (blog)

Daniel! Great write! Lots of creative thinking in this write. Loved the metamorphosis you have implemented in your write!!

"Words tattoo my soul
Everything I have ever written is who I am
They are a better representation of myself.
Than this fragile body,
than my words spoken,
Which are the things you want to hear me say
they are the token things I say everyday
I choose the words I write carefully
With anger love pain and poise
These words are my choice
Between actor and person
My voice comes from my poems
They are not just noise they speak for me.
The same skin as me "

GREAT WORK!!...Zuzanna

Comment is about words tattoo my soul and quotations (blog)

Original item by Daniel Hooks

Well written winter poem, sounds like in Canada...Cold icicles hanging from the roof too and the prints in the snow too...Smile... Loved you cute muse...Zuzanna

Comment is about Winter (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Hello Malpoet, nice meeting you...I like the write and how you described the tragic situation in AGADIR. This is perhaps based on reality. Sad as it is, that some places are being touched by terrible disasters...Your poem shows that very well. Great write, however very sad....Thank you...Zuzanna

Comment is about Agadir (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Good thought in your writing! Not sure if only Poland would be the Champion in smoking in that matter as I found Europe in general people are heavy smokers there. When traveling through European country I was basically chocked by the smokers...Smile I wished the people responsible for the Health -doctors should do something about that! You brought good point in your write. Smoking shall be banned.

Thank you...Zuzanna

Comment is about World Pipe Smoking Championship (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Hello Kevin

Thank you for your kind words on this poem. I am really pleased you enjoyed it.

This poem was written by drawing together all the variuos stands contained in societties ratrace. It is sad to think that the contents within this piece of work actually exists in our world.

Getting feedback like this gies me a real buzz.

Thank you once again and have a Merry Christmas.

Phil

Comment is about Remember me at Christmas Time (blog)

Original item by Phil Golding

Hi Clarissa, The story contained in this poem is an observational commenton the layers of our society. I actually wrote it at our local baths, whilst my son was having a great time with his mates in the water, sitting in the small cafe area.
I havent read any news of this type of life endured my so many. When i read it I feel blessed, yet sad for those left behind in this rat race we call society.

Thanks for you comments on this piece

Have a wonderful Christmas

Phil

Comment is about Remember me at Christmas Time (blog)

Original item by Phil Golding

Thank you or your feed back. Yes its annoying that Dads are almost always right. With some of my poetry I try to put myself in ficticiuos situatons.
Really pleased you liked it

Have a lovely Christmas

Comment is about 2 X Girls = Don't (blog)

Original item by Phil Golding

Thank you Zuzanna.

Comment is about Guilty (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Thanks Kevin. Yes, like a merket or the internet it did sort of write itself to begin with, but then I revised it and shortened it. Yet another case of meddling that may have made things worse rather than better. ;-)

Comment is about Simply Organic (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Hello Pete,
Nice meeting you and thank you for the warm welcome, Kevin is my friend too. He emailed me about this lovely site. Pleased to meet you and all the other Poets and Poetess as well. ---Now let’s go to the business. You’re "So Long since I have laughed" poem - prompts sympathy for you… But reading it further I came to realize that it was just a muse...Great write. It is important to have a good laughter. Day with out of a good laugh it is a lost day. I am sure you are aware of that! Thank you for sharing your art in writing...Zuzanna

Comment is about So long since I laughed (blog)

Malcom, she has nice legs! so true the streets can take a nice person and change them into such a sad person.

Comment is about Adventure (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

Bubo, this is wonderful!

Comment is about I Think I Love You More Than Chocolate (blog)

Original item by Bubo

nice poem!

Comment is about Disturbia (blog)

Original item by Daniel Hooks

hum I felt this way a few times, its a nice poem.

Comment is about So long since I laughed (blog)

Hi Bubo, I remember an owel with your name! I like your poems they flow very well and you have a great talent or a wonderful muse!

Comment is about Bubo (poet profile)

Original item by Bubo

If its enough to say that I like it, then good! I feel like I understand it, seems to be a longing for more and a fear at the same time,so much of this in life. Its a nice poem, if this is real feelings say the words, it helps at times to speak!

Comment is about Arthur Matthew (poet profile)

Original item by Arthur Matthew

You know it does not have to be this way. ah its my day off, I had a wonderful christmas party I have a had a few drinks, putting the tree up. life is good for the most part xx me

Comment is about Microwave Michael (blog)

I think it is excellent write! You have used a lot of creativity in your poem. It does paint a nice picture for me. Awesome write Daniel....Great work!

Comment is about Disturbia (blog)

Original item by Daniel Hooks

Night time creatures come out to play
moonlight fear has its way,
owls howl,
wolves growl,
I am glad it’s over I hate the dark
But when shadows fall
and the cold moon glows bright
it will happen again in the night

I thought this was Lon Chaney Jr fearing the full moon, when he would turn into the wolf man...

waiting for the sun to rise
I’ll have to wait for the deathly haze to lift
and my loneliness not to disappear but to shift
away in the sun lit day.

I prefer the dark to the sunlight, but I can appreciate fear of the dark.
I like the 'loneliness not to disappear, but to shift' line. Even the sun is no comfort when you're all alone.
Good poem, Daniel.

Comment is about Disturbia (blog)

Original item by Daniel Hooks

Curled fingers hold wire
Baskets fold handles
By tills
Choices, instant vitamin pills
Sunday roasts
The atrocious toasts
And the ills of
frozen gravy lazy
chicken ready meal for one
mounted upon
Solid state and silicon
Revolving
A white Platter
To the vendor
It does not matter
That he is lonely
Michael has embraced
The furious pace
Of the modern man
And his vacant housewife
Lives only in imagination
Yet is real in desire
Like traditional cooking
And coal fires
No time in the modern age
A missing ring 3rd finger
Clinks bars an imaginary cage
become prisoners
Yet there is no escape
From the bland
4 minute wonder
The mini meal cellophane lid
Is torn,
seeps steam when born
a soggy frown
and a palette worn out
by chemicals
yet sharp for the taste
of something real.

- It's amazing the crap we eat nowadays. If it's frozen and it can be microwaved in a couple of minutes, that's our Sunday lunch. Whatever happened to traditional values?
John Cooper Clarke couldn't have written this better, Pete. Wonderful poetry.

Comment is about Microwave Michael (blog)

20 million giga watts of fancy stringy fairy lights
desperately clinging on to slipping tile suburbia
while impoverished consumers
fight for a slice of the action
in Asda

global warming heat me up
an idiot made power gobbling
Xmas tree lights.
killed a million farm fed feathered friends
and asked we turn the oven down

A rat race bus fuss top piled up tv shite
wintered spray snow delights
of piped rock and roll Xmas tunes
in every god forsaken bauble room
from the unemployed
to the silver spoon

don’t pretend your having fun
let the office party blood run
when the beer boy office joker
spills his cock hard intentions
all over her dress
and wrecks the spotted specs
of the director whom when sober name checks
a god
and when pissed envies his wallet wad
and calls him every name under the sun

I'm sure we can all see ourselves in there somewhere.
The office party often leads to nightmares until Easter.
You have suc a way with words, Pete. Yet another gem.

Comment is about in the name of xmas (blog)

"You see this lovely fifty note.
I'll roll it nice and tight.
Just sniff the line of powder.
Life will be alright."

"Good evening Miss. Who is this man
whose car you'e leaning in?
You're the lady in the court last week
soliciting again."

"He's just a friend." she slurs
and cries. "A friend that's all. I swear."
"You'll know his name then won't you luv.
And know his wife as well."

"OK, OK. Just take me in.
As you will always do.
Take my money and send me back
to pay for gear, my pimp and you."

Lofty ambitions can so easily turn into a road to perdition. This poem would be a great Christmas present for Amy Winehouse.
An excellent flow and a brilliant poem, Malcolm.

Comment is about Adventure (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

A little fatal flaw
I think I love you
More than chocolate
More than those lyrics
In that song you remiss,
Perhaps more than yawning seas
Or buttercup sun’s artery,
Or the softness of God’s breeze

Whispering

More than mythology, theology or
Ideology................
More than life’s mysteries

Position me wisely
I’ve not far to fall.

The very title of this poem would bring the house down at a poetry recital, Bubo. Now that's what I call true love.
Brilliant stuff.

Comment is about I Think I Love You More Than Chocolate (blog)

Original item by Bubo

I’m not going to roar at seagulls
Scavenging left over pickings
As they flap
Slap
Unsettling silence in the air,
Don’t really see me
When careless eyes stare.
Is there an Oliver
In all of us
Asking for more
Palms out flat
Weight of the world on our backs?

Smooth all my worry lines
Smooth my laughter lines
Lift my breasts so they sit just right,
Mold my world
While my toes curl
And Prozac hour arrives
As we develop our swallowing reflex
Guzzling a gallon of God’s water
To wash away the pain
Flood your cosmetic pores
But can’t quite numb the brain,
As I whisper in the mirror
“I don’t think so”
Today, leave me alone.

- This poem would be the star piece at any recital. The words just rolled off my tongue as I read it.
You will go far, Bubo!

Comment is about Bubo (poet profile)

Original item by Bubo

I pull you into the future
You pull me beyond
I am the adult
I should be strong,
But I’m lying between a sandwich
Of right and wrong
My loss, my son,
Stretching my configurations
Staunch and stem
To a society that will bend
Allow us to blend
In a museum of transgenders.

Judge not my child
For she came from God
And I,
I her mother
Shall be the road she is standing on
As I journey into her eyes,
Cradle the tears
Bind the ties,
I shall be the society
That shall accept
As we follow the path down
Grappling to stay in control,
But losing a foothold
On her precious soul.

- A mother's love is a blessing. You write absolutely sublime poetry, Bubo. I won't pretend I understand it all - some of it is way above my head: as all great poetry should be.
Brilliant.

Comment is about Bubo (poet profile)

Original item by Bubo

Call me damaged, call me strange
I am not this woman you claim,
Stripped
But for you
Perhaps I could spread my legs
Take out those dead
In your imagination
You’re ever possessiveness that you are blinded
By me,
Think of me
Still
While she waits for the exorcism of your hate.

Good ole catholic boy
Judge
Judge me, judge my heart
Splintering glass across years of suffocation
Darkness

Until light of lies will shine past
Alone you will stand, calling yourself a man
Amongst debris and disease,
That you call your life.

- WOW! CLASSIC STUFF, BUBO!
You're following in the footsteps of Seamus Heaney - only a brave poet would dare to do that. Fantastic!

Comment is about Bubo (poet profile)

Original item by Bubo

Bubo - This is great write. Lots of metamorphosis in your romantic write. I loved the entire muse. Your creativity shines! 'I Think I Love You More Then Chocolate'...Really great poem...Thank you...Zuzanna

Comment is about I Think I Love You More Than Chocolate (blog)

Original item by Bubo

Oy you thanks! Im reading it a DGPS! on Wed.

Comment is about in the name of xmas (blog)

Your creativity shines in this futuristic poem. The read is genuinely appreciated as it shows great picture of reality in life. GREAT POEM!!

...Zuzanna

Comment is about Guilty (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

My two favourite stanzas:

A market is unknowably complicated.
Nobody can manage it.
Humans have the idea of a market,
but markets make themselves.
Humans thought of the internet
but the internet made itself.
Humans sow seeds.

God is a simple thing.
Easy for man to make.
Grass is complicated.
Rocket science is easy.

Sorry, three...

Once god was improved
from being a piece
of painted wood,
he didn't work.

Excellent, Malcolm. I guess this poem wrote itself...

Comment is about Simply Organic (blog)

Original item by Malpoet

They approached me in a mild manner, chanting incantations while flaying my hide with a slightly warm, stout oaken branch blessed by the high priest of Nayhead. 27 years later I discovered poetry, it’s uncanny

- Even your bio is funny!
Sorry for repeating your own words back to you, but I'm highly impressed. I've never seen a genuinely funny woman before (French & Saunders and Victoria Wood and that Jenny somebody think they're funny...).

Comment is about Mia Darlone (poet profile)

Original item by Mia Darlone

Ironically she could probably do with getting undressed
(There’s a likely need for a darn good shag)
I’ve just said the word nob and she’s not impressed
Thank God I didn’t do ‘Cockney Rhyming Slag’
It’s not taken as intended - tongue in cheek
Do they really think I’ve slept with 8 blokes in one week?

Post-performance friendliness is directly proportional to the audience’s reaction to your poem:
They’re very friendly
If you get laughs
But they can’t possibly be seen talking to you
If you die on your ass
So assuming this type of environment exists
Will I return to the stage?
I’d rather slit my wrists!

Who am I kidding…
Next time I’ll wear tighter jeans and do ‘What a bummer’.

- LOL. You're fantastic, Mia. I always go for humour in my performances (especially on stage). It's easy to know if an audience likes you or not, if they laugh. I thought my stuff was funny, but I think I'd pay to see you.

Comment is about Mia Darlone (poet profile)

Original item by Mia Darlone

Stacks of DVDs are found
Mainly of the Tour de France
And a photo that has Olympic champion Chris Borderman’s face
Superimposed onto the body of a man wearing pants
They also found a bike with a hole in the seat
A dildo was positioned vertically underneath
Attached to the pedals – so it can be controlled by the feet
(At this stage an accompanying police officer’s face lit up – but she resisted taking her urge further – she was a wife and mother).

Mike was charged
He got 3 years probation
He was ordered to rehab
Where they are trying to replace bike-fucking with standard masturbation

- Jesus, Mia, that's feckin' brilliant! Absolutely hilarious - and true! LOL. I love the Queen intro.

Comment is about Mia Darlone (poet profile)

Original item by Mia Darlone