The ashes were scattered
my flatter had flittered
the flickering was fluttering
the muttering had cometh
A day in the gaze of the days
that are gone
brought a sigh and a tear
Poetry - As Luck Would Have It By Bronwyn Ellis
Luck for some is more than chance,
A gift that can't be bought,
Some people sail through life unscathed,
Whilst others straws are short.
He never knew if luck would change,
But still he took precautions,
In staying far away from things which added to misfortunes. Read more...
Poetry - Moonwalking and Whalesong By Rivelino
Moonwalking eternally across the earth in silhouette,
America watched you shedding skins contaminating
ethnic colouring's, she reflected back an
inverted dream where white is black, history's
eye filtering slavery and genocide through
distorted sight. King of pop crowned with fire
composing songs on a cosmic lyre, heaven withheld Read more...
Poetry - Lily Pond By Joe Hakim
In the autumn of
the last year when I
felt the need
to know everything
I had the power
to turn gardens into
Poetry - Ever Decreasing Circles By Belinda Barchard
The river echoes the pains,
Of broken hearts, of broken minds,
Even if I embrace my heart and my mind,
It can never feel so sweet,
Like a melody already played,
Forever in your ears,
But lacking the intensity.
Poetry - Hull Big Screen By Mark Walmsley
What a bloody eyesore
Tinned noise and what for?
We leave our sad life behind
Only to bloody well find
Another TV we've got away from
To see this giant abomination
This broken down screen
Hull's supposed to be green, yet,
Poetry - Long Long Ago (Fado Fado) By Dayne Coyne
Long, long ago
And oh so far away
I can't remember
Did it ever really happen?
It must have been far, far away
And oh so long ago
I can't remember
Did I ever really know
Poetry - As It Was By Mike Watts
Shower light's still on
Cheap coffee's gone
Been asked where I've been
Can smell Mr Sheen
A liner in the bin
Toilet flushes blue Read more...
Poetry - On Yer Todd By Joe Hakim
I'm the last piece of spaghetti
in the jar in the cupboard,
I'm the kid picked out
by the nit nurse,
I'm the unclaimed purse
in the cloakroom.
I'm the only coin in the
Poetry - On Patrol in Afghanistan, A Soldier's Tale By Andy Grant
The call to prayer as dusk falls in
The moonlight starts to shine
All around fear grows within
With the sound of gunfire rounds,
The mortar flash the home made bomb
The small arms fire afar
The dessert night is cold and still
Poetry - The Unhappy Clown By Bronwyn Ellis
A glance at his reflection before painting on his face,
His scarlet smile stretched wide across a pure white, pallid base,
The gaudy stripes of colour worn in contrast to his frown,
A teardrop in the cornflakes from this poor and saddened clown,
A lifetime making others laugh makes humour seem so tragic,
The repetitious magic tricks had somewhat lost their magic,
Balloons transformed to animals before the children's eyes, Read more...
Poetry - No Practical Skills Required By Mark Walmsley
Congratulations and well done, on the purchase of your new kit
The enclosed easy instructions, will show you how to fit
All the packaged items, contained and arranged as seen
Will give you years of good use, the best that's ever been
Take out the parts from box 'A', and place them on the floor
Place bags '1','2','3' and '4' with the hammer and a saw
Get yourself a screwdriver, a tape and resin Glue Read more...
Poetry - Lonely Boy By Dayne Coyne
Suspended in the world of twilit sentiments
That flickered dimly through his sad grey eyes
Resigned to stagnant future the boy viewed himself
As now constrained by fate to tread the aisles
That retreat into the past
Between the half-forgotten memories
Where sorrow's line is cast Read more...
Poetry - Flag By Laurenceaux
I saw our flag
flapping and stuttering against its pole.
I saw our flag straining,
writhing and contorting
in a wind of change.
I saw the pole unbending.
Dogmatic in its stance,
leashing and lashing the flag
Poetry - Soldier, Farewell By Patrick Henry
Under the flag he chose to serve,
Marching no more down roads aflame,
The soldier fallen lies held in where the pall
Bearers pass the ranks for his last time.
Few words will tell or heal the loss.
Bugle notes stand for the unspoken thought.
Those nearest share the deepest hurt.
Poetry - Winter Rain 09 and A Tale of Romance By Phil Pretheroe
She wore red,
Like it was summer,
it was December.