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Poetry
Silent Past, Little White Lie and In The Shadows
By Amy Rout age 16

Silent Past
For justice
We live
For peace
We try
For freedom
We commend
For honour
We die

For present
We know
For past
We yearn
For ourselves
We believe
For them
We learn

To be
Is a phrase
To live
Is a task
To die
Is a favour
What more can we ask?

Little White Lie
A little white lie.
Never did any harm.
Just like the razor blade.
Cutting the arm.

No truth in the blood.
Vein full of lies.
Regret running through the mind.
Tears in the eyes.

Let the lies eat you.
Start from the inside.
Beginning with your heart and soul.
Ending with your pride.
Nothing left now
The lies have finally won.
I tried to fight, tried to stop.
I couldnt see what theyd done.

Seemed so easy to speak.
Shiver once its been told.
My last one was the best.
A lie of true gold.

Now I sit here.
Feeling so guilty.
Knowing that I must stop.
Before the lies eat me.

In The Shadows
I saw you lurking in the shadows
I thought you were following me
I turned around to look
But only your silhouette I could see
A silhouette means nothing at all
Just the figure of a face
You scared me at first,
I felt all boxed in
So my feet did pick up the pace.
My heart was constantly beating
'Tap, Tap,' my shoes did say
As I left you in the shadows
And hurriedly rushed away.
Finally around the corner
I was stood under a street light
Backed away into the shadows,
Blending in with the night.


Copyright © Amy Rout 2004

Poetry - Abortion. By Amy, 16
The day that she told me,
Came as quite a shock,
She didn't want the baby,
Both our worlds had quickly stopped.
She hadn't told her parents,
Nor her sister or her brother,
Read more...

Poetry - Never to Last and Reality. By Amy, 16
The tears which have been shed.
The plates which have been broken.
The time has now come,
For the vows to be unspoken.
Lets go back in time.
Back to the church.
Find the book of divorce. Read more...

Poetry - 21st Century Goddamn! By Anthea
I am of a certain age,
The 1960s, were mine.
Bob Dylan sang to us
Of the death of Medgar Evers.
Near half a century ago.
On the far side of the ocean. Read more...

Poetry - Ballad of a Jack and Jill By Lee Cassanell
The glare of the hot sun explodes in my face
A cigarette slow burns in takeaway waste,
I lie with the lights off in party smeared threads
Need coffee and OJ but can't feel my legs,
The jungle was massive that's why I'm so tired Read more...

Poetry - Dancing in the street By Anthea
When I walked into Marrakech,
Everybody said, hello, to me.
I walked Beverley Road, last February,
So I tried the technique of Crocodile Dundee:
I said, hello, to everybody.
And, that's how I met Dominic! Read more...

Poetry - Elizabeth Bennett at the Curry House By Jane Foster
All day before she prepared the white dress,
Not knowing how it would end up a mess..
She fastened her bonnet and powdered her face
And set off for the joy that was Ray's Place.
She took to her seat, tried hard to be modest
Read more...

Poetry - The Aquanaut By Lee Cassanell
A heartbreak hotel on the back streets of sin cross the road from a bar of hellfire
Awakened by horns songs of champagne and blondes are the essence of all he aspires
The Aquanaut swims through the excess of oil that cascade from the car pool of stars Read more...

Poetry - On The Tiles By Lee Cassanell
When I look back at the end of my life
I'll remember the night with my substitute wife
In a Tavern near Cork were the locals still talk
Of the Drinkers who crawled out the sea.
I came to that place with a harem of hippies
Read more...

Poetry - Rag and Bone Men By Jane Foster
Whilst languishing in bed this morning
I heard the sound of men in the distance..
The ones from days long past, with carts and horses,
Rusting spare parts, weathered necks,
And that old familiar drone:
Any Rag? Bone? Read more...

Poetry - Confessions of a Codeine Smoker
By Lee Cassanell
I sit with spiders
On Webs of Fly's
In rooms of damp and squalor
A coiled up spring
The mist I'm in
Will all clear by tomorrow Read more...

Poetry - The Plumber By Maurice Fairfield
Behold the plumber where he stands
His wrenches gleaming in his hands
His jaw is square, his eye is keen
His belly flat his body lean.
No common man, his hire comes high
His hourly rate is in the sky Read more...

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