Larkin 25 - Without You By John Fewings

Without you - Sweet and sour would just taste bitter, Every street be filled with litter. I'd exercise but not get fitter, Need laughing gas to raise a titter - Without you. Without you - Granny Smiths would be less juicy, There'd be no gander for the goosey, It wouldn't be 'nice to see you', Brucey! There'd be no diamonds in the sky with Lucy - Without you. Without you - Seedless grapes would be all pippy, Kids today would be twice as lippy, Playground slides would not be slippy, Summer days would all turn nippy, Without you there would never have been a hippy, Or a bush kangaroo by the name of Skippy, No Geoffrey, Bungle, George or Zippy! They'd run out of chips down the local chippy, There'd be only one S in Mississippi, I would go crazy, barmy, dippy - Without you. Without you, I'm sure I'd lose the will to live And my poems wouldn't scan or rhyme or anything And I'd forget what it was I wanted to say And probably just trail off at the end ....

Copyright © John Fewings 2010

Poetry - Larkin 25 - Distraction By Robert Swan
	I was looking at your legs, Those curves that sway down To your toes. I was enjoying your lips, Then your eyes; Then your nose. I was lost on a pathway I would love to retrace, Across the pristine paradise Read more...

Poetry - Larkin25 - Pointless Journey By Mark Walmsley
	As I sit here, In this half way, Cafe Staring blankly through The rain soaked window Pushing unwanted food Around my plate, all chipped and dirty My half eaten breakfast, Read more...

Poetry - Larkin 25 - The University of Hull Students Union By Julie Corbett

With the right shoes and standing away from the Dance floor; you can feel a sticky ooze in the carpet of John McCarthy's Bar. Not strong enough to hold you fast, it tells of Happy Hours and those Real Ale fests where Read more...

Poetry - Larkin25 - To Skipper Pete By Terry Ireland

Today I walked the Humber Bank Across the old locks On in the grey drizzle Through the old town docks; Normally a solitary walk but Today I happened to meet An ex trawler skipper from Our old deep sea fishing fleet. He told me the fleet still existed Read more...

Poetry - Larkin 25 - This Be The Verse By Bronwyn Ellis
	They fuck you up The politicians They may not mean to But they do They fill you up with endless lies False promises made just for you But they were fucked up in their turn When Eaton moulded the young MPs A stiff upper lip as a stiff lower member Read more...

Poetry Larkin 25 - Rock and Soul By Kerry-Joe Pulford

And he stared at me forever, Like he wanted to lick me, Like I was rock with 'Soul' writ through me, And if he just had money, house, car and a ring He could be one of us, and talk about things I could sense his anguish, well this bit - The 'Take him to the pub and make him fit' shit. But I couldn't turn away, Read more...

Poetry - War Broke Out When I Was Young By George William Beswick

The War broke out when I was young, And I'd never been away, And then the 'call up' papers came, To join in the affray. And on a January morn, 'Mid lots of frost and snow, I left my dear beloved home, To be a soldier I must go Read more...

Poetry - Remembrance Day By Terry Ireland

I sat there in silence as the 11th hour chimed just a little tribute BBC timed then for those few who bothered the world set off again not a fitting tribute for those lost women and men Read more...

Poetry - Blitzed Not Broken By David Bannister

What is this talk about a war? They can't be right, they can't be sure. But they were right I soon learnt, The bombed our city, how it all burnt. The city was ours, the name was Hull, A man called Hitler had started his cull. It never took him very long, September the fourth he came along. Read more...

Poetry - For Those Who Died By Ted Harben

If pale at the concrete centre of town There stood on Remembrance Day, A soldier in blood-stained battle-dress With a tin, and a poppy tray, Could you hurry by with head held high With never a glance his way At his wounded side, his hands, his feet Read more...

Poetry - Over The Top By Mark Walmsley
	We huddle, in this puddle, waiting for the shells to stop. We cry, we turn, our heads to the sky, a whistle to go over the top Can't get a grip, we fall we slip, knee high we wade through the mud A foot on the ladder, piss from a weak bladder, dead men fall back with a thud. The mustard air, Read more...

Poetry - A Soldier's Appeal, From One Killed In Ireland By Ted Harben

Will no-one buy a poppy just for the likes of me? Born, I was in sixty-one and died in eighty-three. I joined up as a soldier in nineteen seventy-eight and little thought my uniform Read more...

Poetry - Larkin 25 - Single Mums By Gary Clark

It's a lonely life for a single mum An empty purse When the shopping's done Beans on toast Every night for tea The staple diet of a one parent family. Her baby sleeps soundly on Read more...