Welcome to Kingston Upon 'Ull
The city once voted 'most dull'
But no better folk you'll meet on any British street
And the pubs always seem quite full!
The Ferens Gallery and Museums are free
(If you're local of course, like me)
There's 'umber Bridge and The Deep
Poetry - January Mornings By Gary Clark
If it wasn't for the football I think I'd go mad
Dark January mornings they make me so sad
If only I could win something on the national lottery
I'd be out of here so quickly that nobody would find me
Sat in my kitchen watching daytime TV
I never thought so little would happen to me
Poetry - The Sailor's Romance By Laurenceaux
Who she is I cannot say,
for she is the wind - calm or ruthless.
Where she comes from I cannot say
for she - is the wind.
The wrath of her I have incurred - with whistling voice and icy fingers.
Poetry - Resting In Peace By Chris Dawber 1947 - 2009
I lay here, beneath the soft, waved, silken soil,
Alive seeing nothing, now dead, seeing all.
I see air, it's blue, it really is,
Why now, for the first time, do I see this?
Contrasting, kaleidoscopic scene,
Only now, that I've gone, knowing where I've been.
Compacted mud and wood can't hide,
The wonders I've perceived, since I've died.
Poetry - Tagged By Joe Hakim
It's a corpse that won't stay buried,
an image that is ferried
across a sea of cables into the port
of my memory. Trapped in a monitor screen,
faces that I haven't seen for 2 decades
invade the present; a message sent
to remind me of a past I'd rather forget
Poetry - Valentine By Phil Pretheroe
My valentines a drunkard, a psychopathic mess,
like a schizophrenic's abstinence-ending wet dream,
he's 86 personalities and they're all hard to impress.
Sometimes he never really smiles, never laughs aloud,
never talks to people who want to be part of a crowd.
'Peacocks', 'wankers', 'scum of the earth!' -
Poetry - Questions By Chris Dawber
Who is the mother of the sun?
Who is the father of the tide?
Why must we promenade, walk, not run?
And where do redundant Saturday's hide?
Simple questions. Answer them.
Are we who, what where or when?
Poetry - From This Place By Tim Roux
The death of a murderer is not so sad,
It but takes away what he never had.
And if you find this a somber text,
I speak of this life, not the next.
Where he may recline on sun-kissed beaches,
Breathing hope and slurping peaches,
Knowing his worst life to be done,
Poetry - Ring By Laurenceaux
There's a ring of truth upon my finger
protecting me from the past.
A ring of contentment white with age
forever more to last.
A sign of fidelity
in a groove of mutated skin,
Poetry - Not One Of Us? By Chris Dawber
He tramps the streets of shadowed life,
The wrong side of the two edged knife.
No miscreant he, not understood,
No misericorde*, to kiss his blood.
We think we know him, but know him nought,
For can we know the man's distraught.
Past the local, lively chat,
Poetry - Insane and Crude But True By Tim Roux
I feel like championing rusty causes
In the dark, whispering recesses of the world.
I know that it makes no sense
And that bankruptcy and derision loom
But I still have an altar in my heart
And a wild desire to save the world.
Poetry - The Slot By Mike Watts
A beer would be fatal
And relaxing's out
I need to move about
Sip at a coffee
That I'll pour away
I'll take my third
Poetry - Should Time Stand Still By A J Grant
Should time stand still for just one day,
What would you do the people say,
Climb Mountains high swim oceans deep,
Ride rapid rivers a parachute leap,
Sleep with the girl you see each day,
Behind her desk never looks your way,
Or sit and stare out into space,
Poetry - The Kings Town By Tom Stratton
England, you tear me apart.
From your southern shores
To your northern, rotten streets
Bearing down on my groggy mind.
Your poles repel me
And I rebel with all I have
Against your loving charms
Poetry - My Angel Annie By Paul England
For now you sleep with angels
while the angels sleep with you
I forever hold that love you gave
in my heart it stays so true
Those little things you did for me
no words could now reveal
an angel sent from heaven
Poetry - The Ex (to See) By Phil Pretheroe
As she walked in he didn't know what to do,
should he be mad or happy or somewhere in between?
The love of the life so far greets him with a smile, a kiss and a hug.
It's been so long that all the resentment lies cold as a rare touch of happiness warmly returns and a smile is mirrored back.
It's all a lie
both you and I
were never meant to be
An accident of circumstance and methane from the sea
There is no plan
No big 'I am'
is floating high above us
Poetry - You know By Mike Watts
You shadow me
Like a crow
Fall on me
Like black snow
And from a burnt sky
Thick with filthy rain,
You pollute my brain.
Poetry - Unlimited Social Ailments By Laurenceaux
Andrea was a coke-head,
she took it to the max.
She peppered her body regularly,
but never knew the facts.
She knew she was lovin' it,
she knew she had wings,
She knew she had tracks,
Poetry - Acute Gravity By Steve Rudd
The gravity of words; the line that's drawn in sand,
The love that just won't die; the unrepentant man.
These are the things we must never speak of.
These are the kinds of crimes perpetrated by the blind.
So much for the life and times of a bankrupt megalomaniac,
Not to mention the lows and the highs
Poetry - Etherlink By Terry Ireland
I am thirty five she typed
Which was just a trifle naughty
For she was quite a long long way
The other side of forty
Just the age I like he typed
For I am nearly thirty nine
And I just love to chat with one
Poetry - The Face on the Henhouse Floor or Brewster's Last Stand ... By Maurice Fairfield
In the world of chooks
There's no place for sooks
And a rooster must stand tall
It's the toughest bird that rules the roost
And the weak go to the wall
Now Brewster the Sussex rooster
Was solid and stringy and lean
Poetry - Feelings (republished with audio MP3 download) By Laurenceaux
I thought my love was underhand.
But how wrong.
It welled up and filled my soul.
Fast: 'till I could not hold.
And how it came I cannot explain.
But I am glad.
Poetry - Two Things By Mike Watts
Marooned without money
Watching the rain
Trickle skinny rivers
Down the glass
Poetry - Larkin About By Gary Clark
I knew it was Philip Larkin
That bloke in the park
With his long dirty raincoat and walks after dark
Stood on the corner watching the Hull folk go by
Single mothers with push chairs met with a condescending eye
That strange bloke from Coventry Wearing a stupid brown hat.
Poetry - Haiku By Scott Rorrison
Trees are shimmering
Under a gold fluorescent
Light, city at night.
Indie kids are cool
We all want to be like you,
Call centre fodder.
Clean Yorkshire Sundays
Poetry - Period Piece iii By Terry Ireland
'twas Christmas day in the work house
Time for the residents' annual treat
The warden opened the kitchen door
So they could smell his cooking meat
Now to our more modern minds
That could be thought of as cruel
But he thought it added spice
Poetry - Christmas Poem By Manuro
The defecating swordfish of inhaled time:
Tinsel on the tree of standing up,
With baubles like the dignified bollocks
Of elastic wind-up snails that throbbed
Once too often for comfort according to
Father Christmas, the rich Mr. Fat Ass.
Poetry - Stained Image By Chris Dawber
Pretty her, pity her, poor girl,
Product of playful mankind,
Wanton, wanting, needing, bleeding,
A virginal slut, maligned,
Who's the instigator? Is there a God?
If there is, is he doing his job?
Poetry - Good morning Hangover! By Phil Pretheroe
Well good morning there, I'd ask how you are
but I'm your hangover and I'm here like an unwanted scar!
Thank me for your eyes burning, your head jumping and your stomach using the back of your tongue as a bungee that won't stop churning.
Poetry - Most People Poems Fail By Patrick Henry For Adrian Mitchell, 1932-2008
That kind of writing ignores most people,
Who will say 'to hell with it', one voice warned,
When times struck crisis through the 'Sixties:
Classes and ages splitting: defence against revolt.
Songs and protests over Rights of the outsiders threatened,
Sparked gulfs between safe