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Poetry
1000 Words
By Lee Cassanell

The Raven came over
Hair Down to her Shoulders
I asked her for something to Sip

She called me pathetic
Her Words so prophetic
As I pushed the Rum through my Lips

My Clock has stopped Ticking
But Dylan's still singing
So the night is not quite over yet.

The Rain may be falling
The Dawn may be calling
But tomorrow will be a good day I bet.

The Mistress came wanting
I hate disappointing
But I feel too lazy tonight

My bloods dyed with beer
I still want you near
I still need to know you're alright,

My Mind has stopped Working
I can't smile for smirking
As I mull my favourite regret

The Stars may be fading
The Times may be changing
But tomorrow will be a good day I bet.
The Memories came creeping
I'd rather be sleeping
Than thinking of days gone by

I just couldn't wait
I gambled our fate
And lived by the roll of the Die

My Heart has stopped beating
But I am seeking
That something that I've failed to get

The Moon may be burning
The Tide may be turning
But tomorrow will be a good day I bet.

The tiredness takes over
I feel a day older
And look like I've not slept for years

I'm just about ready
My Legs feel unsteady
But music still rolls in my ears

The Morning has broken
I can't speak for smoking
I can't dream for try'na forget

The pace maybe slowing
The Cock maybe crowing
But tomorrow will be a good day I bet
Copyright ©2004  Lee Cassanell

Poetry - Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner that I am such a c**t. Cockney John vs The professional Yorkshireman
By King Rat
Cockney Cor blimey guv'nor you're not what I expected Tyke: What a whippet, flat cap and the sense of bein' rejected Cockney Faraway from home, the big city's near Tyke: Aye it's grim up there, but its shit darn ere Cockney: Down to the queens arms, up with our knees Read more...

Kids, Poetry - A Scary Night By Ruth Wilson
Witches and bats,
Broomsticks and black cats
Gathering together for Halloween.
Eerie ghosts scream
A trick or treat to be seen
As spirits float to every home. Read more...

Poetry - Exhilaration Denied and Bulling Bone China
By Steve Rudd
Long division carries over the little things that add up
On late railways across the USA
Glue sniffers'll get stuck
For words when they're sick
Lumps in the throat tend to stick, to fit
Read more...

Poetry - My first day at school By Lee Cassanell
Do you believe in the devil? the black widow said,
As she kicked at my friend to make sure she was dead
I replied with a glare of disgust and defeat
And then closed the scared eyes of the girl at my feet.. Read more...

Poetry - From Kathman to San Fran By Steve Rudd
From Kathman to San Fran
Round the canyon and then some
Routine cheques withheld ransom
I'm gonna go get 'em..
From the same toilet seat, contracting curry house blues Read more...

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

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