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Last Updated: 20/07/2010 11:35:04
Larkin 25 - A Mother's Lament By David Thompson
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Something borrowed, something blue,
So little time, so much to do,
Things to buy, things to try on,
All for a day that's here and gone.
A wedding list that's far too long,
Who to cross off, bound to be wrong,
A day that's meant to be full of joy,
For now my sanity to destroy.
There's talk of morning dress, and top hat,
Don't know who will pay for that,
The bride wants caviar, and gold confetti,
Does she think I'm John Paul Getty?
Conveyed by regal coach and horses,
To sit down meal, at least four courses,
With logistics of the seating plan,
To challenge best brains of man.
Bridesmaids have gone through every hue,
From palest pink to deepest blue,
Oh, for a glass of wine before I scream,
I wish they'd gone to Gretna Green.
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Copyright © David Thompson 2010
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Dust Jackets By Melanie Pearce
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I found a book in another town
It attracted my eye, one I couldn't put down
It promised me verses and secrets it hid
The kind of stories to pass to your kid
Instead it showed me the flaws in my self
This kind of book should be left on the shelf
But this jacket stood out amongst the rest
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Local Language By Robert Swan
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'Cunts' can be either 'Silly cunts',
Or be reclaimed as feminine and pretty,
But 'cunts' not always a swear-word,
When you get dragged up in Hull City.
If you think something smells fishy
Then that's a pity,
So I'm gunnu explain
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Poetry - Love Story By Dennis Wild
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The day we met
a hoary old wildebeest
stumbled into a chrome-decored
gelati emporium
and gasped.
The profusion of colour
all but dazzled
his scrub wearied eyes,
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Poetry - Just Another Night By John Dervishian
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Moonlighting
With another drink
Waiting for
Something
Equivalent to
Death
While I Read more...
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Poetry - Word Power By Dennis Wild
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This poem has no belly button
no passport
no bill of ownership.
It arrived just hours ago
in a crate marked inflammable,
your name
stamped on the outside.
This poem has ambitions
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Undeserving Heroes By Gary Clark
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Sometimes I wish I had a hero
And sometimes I think it's quite sad.
Someone to look up to
Wishing I had what they have.
But heroes can be disappointing
Especially to a six year old lad.
All blonde hair
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Crow By Dave Windass
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There was a crow
In our front yard
Just the other day
Nestling between three wheelie bins
And discarded takeaway It scared me when I saw it
As I know they bring bad luck
It stood its ground
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Fleas By Terry Ireland
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They took away his body armour
and he got killed by shot
For the serving soldier
just one ending of the plot.
There's no dignity on any front line
nor any comfort for those left behind,
but the antics of politicos
and their face saving rites,
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Poetry Larkin 25 - The Child Killer By Pamela Scobie
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I'll just take a walk, I tell myself,
A little look around.
I like the noise and the smell of it:
The fairground.
Hot fat, hot sugar, hot, fat flesh.
Belonging. Being anonymous.
Then I see him through the rage and din,
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Poetry - You Never Said Goodbye By David Bannister
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You went away that lonely day,
You never said goodbye.
I waited till the sky was dark,
And I began to cry.
Please come home soon Mam, I did say,
It isn't very fair
I never meant what I said,
You know I really care.
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Hornsea Revisited (for JH) By Julie Corbett
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The balmy, early morning
Swirls and twirls in my gaze
Primary coloured windmills
In the salt tang air
The waving, littered tide line
Edges and hems the sand
single, shell and cobbles
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Sounds By David Thompson
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Beeching's decimation of the rail,
Has left a leafy woodland trail,
Once a branch line to the sticks,
Took folks to 'With' for two and six,
That passes close beside our home,
A rustic byway free to roam,
From dog walking and country hikers,
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - This Is 'Ull By Bronwyn Ellis
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I know the cracks in your concrete complexion,
Familiar sights and a vinegary smell,
I filter unknown through a sea of strangers,
Considering streets I remember so well,
I am the child which left your guidance,
But still I visit all the time,
And when my feet touch on your land,
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Wings By Rivelino
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Shunned, unable to
pick any of heaven's locks,
an angel tricked by camouflage and a devil
tampering with earthly clocks
has his wings stripped by
the devil's winds.
Human history is mined by the angel
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - 'Oe Noe Joe' By Liz Healey
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I'm coming up four
And you know what's more
For invention I've got a flair.
But I just know
I'll get an 'oe noe joe'
And told to sit on the bottom stair.
I sprayed Dad's veg
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Tit for Tat By Terry Ireland
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Obama kicked ass good
with the boss of BP.
Now he's had the practice
perhaps we'll all see
ass kicked at Union Carbide
about the Bhopal disaster,
still polluting the land
twenty six long years after.
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - The Dole Shop By Bronwyn Ellis
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Come down to the dole shop,
With queue's of lifeless men,
Lining up like soldiers, armed with logbooks and a pen.
Come bask in their depression,
The air is hushed and bleak,
Each person striving to survive on fifty pound a week.
The addicts claw their paychecks,
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Dancer in the Sky By Helen Burke
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Today, I saw a dancer in the sky -
And she was me.
Well, obviously she wasn't.
I use the term loosely, but something about
The way she kicked ass, head-butted clouds
The way her eyes billowed out with rain
Then hoped for sun,
Was reminiscent of this other self.
This painted bird.
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Poetry - Larkin 25 - Heed The Warning By Patricia Gray
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They told us on the telly to use protection
As that is the best way to avoid infection
But I didn't realise while I was having fun
The amount of damage which could be done
Till I went to the doctors on that day
and he looked so serious, filled me with dismay
I'm sorry to tell you, you've got an infection
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Poetry Larkin 25 - Calm Before the Storm By Malcolm Wilson Bucknall
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All around a stillness settles,
To cloak the solitude of night.
Sombre skies hang gaunt and heavy,
A calm befalls the fading light.
Then sounds of thunder swell in volume,
Lightning scars a crimson sky.
Tortured winds increase their fury,
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Poetry - What Happens Next? By Steve Johnson
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Everyone's here. Everyone.
Black and white, yellow and red, from leaders to the homeless.
Some people watch on the television,
some people listen carefully to the radio,
As the tense reporters speak to the world.
In the desert, the red carpet lies.
The stage is lit, and the microphone is prepared.
Read more...
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