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Last Updated: 04/07/2006 12:09:04
She Can See The World From Petrin Hill
By Tom Gant
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Yonder Summa! Green faerie queen
my thoughts are your own, in thinking.
Raise a finger to edge a table
whilst I raise a glass, dear as crystal.
Sugar revolution; coat yourself in
crowds of bubbles and linger long
and loud as you desire. Smoke:
dance rudely as well if you wish...
Tell fragrant fantasising prophecy to
a blue-collar man standing on a
top hat at Oxford corner, giving
out paper to save the green tree leaves.
Come undressed in parades of dishwater silk,
tie bows in the ribbons of my typewriter.
Laugh, then blow rings round a fellow
whistling to raindrops bouncing from his jacket.
Lift off and climb on, no shoes
please, the almond threads sigh.
A case of fortunes overboard into
Chinese sea: Dive down to salvage deeply.
Grasp for breath and try not to
forget me, after this roll off,
wearing cheap pull on pull off,
with matching red smile, nails, tongue. Sigh.
Crease out the steel boredom and
hammer meticulous until ironing is found.
Fake Window Watcher! Rubber button press!
Cigarette dodge our potato salad luncheon...
Dessert waiter eye smiles at the
half table service, third night running.
Chocolate oyster shells, hot candlelight
dribbles my plastic penniless money.
No light, strong tone. Back now
home alone. Wet from a cold breeze.
Listless monosyllabic, less fantastic
than the remembered icicle handshake.
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Poetry - Feast of Violence (At Scarborough in The Fall) By Patrick Henry
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Time of mist and pumpkin-lamps Keats might call fall of the year.
Ten days and two centuries back, twenty-first October,
Five thousand sailors, one called Nelson, died at Trafalgar.
Feasts of violence make dates upon the calendar.
Stick a pointed hat on an excited child.
Black-paint-daub their face,
Read more...
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Poetry - An Un-Comic Poem By Shep
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I thought about writing a comic poem
But I couldn't find anything funny
I put pen to paper several times
But still couldn't earn my money
I though about people falling down
And kept repeating the word 'wiggle'
Read more...
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Poetry - Test of Character By Patrick Henry
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From Afghanistan comes word of fair play and decency
From the visiting President of the MCC,
That the Jihad desperadoes and Kamikaze ghouls
Have given way to cricket-mad flannelled-fools.
For the influx of this dose of common-sense.
Our wise Wisden man says
Read more...
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Poetry - The Looking-Glass War By Patrick Henry
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Fort Polk could steal headlines from Baghdad and Guantanamo.
A camp down in Dixie will become heroic as The Alamo.
It rehearses scenarios in line for Middle-Eastern war
GIs are tested out by all-comers down there.
Amputee veterans of Pearl Harbour, Korea and Vietnam
Replay their parts of war
Read more...
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Poetry - Thirst By Mike Watts
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Sprawled like a victim
I shrink on the heat of the bed.
Closing-time poltergeists
Rattle beneath my window.
Glass shrieks across concrete
As young voices drip,
Go forth and multiply
Read more...
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Poetry - A Yorkshire Princess By Mike Watts
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This proud bird parades no vanity
She paddles her feet in the Humber
Muddies her dress to show she's working,
As hard as they'll let her.
Breathing in, breathing out,
A great warehouse, a production line
For the conquerors' of Kings, of
Read more...
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Poetry - The Underdogs Of War-Games By Patrick Henry
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8 groups in The World Cup, imagine the worst in each to win
Through to The Quarters, The Semis, or The Final Game.
From defence to attack they might spring up surprising.
What have these minnow nations got going for them?
Talk of red cards, Paraguay once lost five million men
In their big 3-Nations War, facing
Read more...
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Poetry - Aliens Make Great Movies By Patrick Henry
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Great old Science-Fiction films are not released today,
When metallic strangers taller than lone cowboys landed to say
Their masters ruled distant weird worlds now at galactic war
With this frail Earth unless we wise up to the danger.
The Capital of Science-Fiction must be The United States.
All those terms together add up
Read more...
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Poetry - Confetti By Tom Gant
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You said 'money' isn't the
be all and end all,
but the problem remains,
you don't know me
at all.
Peace is the only refuge
Read more...
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Poetry - Pinfold Lane By Lee Cassanell
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They built on land where gallows stood
And devils plied their trade,
The hanging gale made killers sway
As craftsmen cut their graves
A Sailors crowd pushed to the front
To see a ship mate dangle,
Read more...
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Poetry - Persona Ingrata By Patrick Henry
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From years overshadowed by smart authors, I woke in horror to find
Change gripped me bleak as Kafka's insect or Dr Jekyll's fiend.
Once on the skids in Paris, fleas that clung round my body
I flicked at Sarte's photo in a posh café.
Read more...
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Poetry - Available On Demand By Joe Hakim
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Watching a girl
called Erica Yates
masturbate
on my mate's mobile phone.
'She's from Bransholme,
and on this bit
you can actually hear her moan,'
Read more...
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Poetry - The Cost of Labour By Patrick Henry
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No fool, Britannia, never ever slaves since times
They fought for The Truck Acts, The Workers' Vote, the Right for Unions.
Loyal as Coronation mugs, some think Magna Carta put Civil Rights our way:
That job-form for barons who started higher up the tree.
They imagine that The Civil War
Read more...
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Poetry - Decisions By Mike Watts
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Disturbed behind bleached white net
Crashing hysterically into the glass,
Should I thump, poison,
Or ignore you?
Buzzing black carrier of filth
Desperate to fly, desirous to feed
Read more...
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Poetry - Earth, As It Is In Iraq By Steve Rudd
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What on earth is going on in Iraq?
It isn't even on earth, now
The violence is underground...
as a bomb a day surveys an old scene
from a play, that dropped out of school.
The Bard's lost for words.
Read more...
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Poetry - The Day Off By Mike Watts
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On weekend parole I slip the boss
For time and space and candyfloss.
Early, and all the sleeping streets are mine
Except for those on double time;
Sickly crews with post-pub shock
A drink damaged body clock,
As I pass the milk and paper rounds
Read more...
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Poetry - The Battle of Alderman Kneeshaw By Lee Cassanell
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I attended Andrew Marvel school from 1990 to 1993 and I have
vague memories of gang fights on Alderman Kneeshaw Park with
Archbishop Thurstan which was a Catholic school on the other side of the hills.
The two schools had been scrapping for decades and in a bizarre way
it was a tradition of sorts.
Much of it was chest beating and bravado but occasionally
Read more...
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Poetry - Nagging Urge By Tom Gant
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Would it be so wrong, to
dig me up once I've gone?
Just to steal another glance
of the idle days we passed,
rather than lamenting over
countless dusty photographs.
Read more...
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Poetry - The Rickshaw Termination By Patrick Henry
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In Delhi ten years back, time stood still.
Cycles flourished. Cattle grazed the streets.
From morning mist temples loomed vast as heads of gods,
Carved in curves of sun and moon. The sky hot, ethereal.
In dawn's half-light a centaur-shape enters the bare street,
Stealthy as a cat, almost silent but
Read more...
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