This Was My Day By Monkeyleg

I lay on those cliffs for hours, Watching and waiting, Listening to the lone farmhouse, A distant way to the west. The gentle swell of the North Sea, Behind me, to the east. My mind an easy wind. As they left, one by one, oblivious. I Think of Dr Sri of all people, With his vile lime green painted walls, And his pleasantly spicy scented house. They wouldnÕt have wanted to stay, anyway. Had they been inclined to read my mind. Climbed in my head, and read. I found what I sought, As I knew I should, Leaning against a wall, Drunk and dangerous like. Covered his head with a trench coat. Smuggled him by way of foot, In the middle of the day. Unawares, undetected, To where he was needed. You heard my calls of thunder From your icy prison, I know. Like you, the rumbles shook for weeks; The mouse that roared, they said. I move in ways you canÕt imagine, But free men can do that. I was there, you didnÕt expect. But that was ages and ages ago. Do you remember? I still remember.

Copyright Monkeyleg 2011

Poetry - Claude Stanley 'Chuckles' Choules; 3rd March 1901 - 5th May 2011 By Terry Ireland

The last known combat survivor of the great war has passed and gone ninety three years almost since it ended in so any ways the world has moved on We kill more efficiently these days the leader of a nation of great wealth watches by beamed live transmissions as a terrorist leader is killed by stealth Read more...

Poetry - Loneliness By Angela Morkos

Loneliness is a wasting disease You smoke the years away in your room Or haunt supermarkets at 9pm The bright lights will distract you from your inner gloom. Loneliness is cancer It eats you cell by cell, The years slip by, you age, you tire And wonder Read more...

Poetry - Loneliness By Angela Morkos

Loneliness is a wasting disease You smoke the years away in your room Or haunt supermarkets at 9pm The bright lights will distract you from your inner gloom. Loneliness is cancer It eats you cell by cell, The years slip by, you age, you tire And wonder Read more...

Poetry - Shell in a Box By Laurenceaux.

There was life there and you took it away. Warmth; but you cooled it. I had feelings and you numbed them, emotions 'till you slit my faith and bled them dry. Read more...

Poetry - Snowy Mountain Blood By David Delaney
	He views the brumbies fleeing down the hill while now he's chasing, closing at great pace. And knowing that one slip out here could kill, he can't afford a tumble or lose face. The cracking stockwhip sounded as he cheered it echoed through the valley far below. These Queensland mountains many have revered, Read more...

Poetry - The Lurker: Only in the night By Jody McKenna

In the day you tread on egg shells. Your words and steps are very carefully chosen. Dead to me is you, the lurker. Death to you is nothing. In the day you play the little act. You play the roll of Judas. Betrayal with your head held high. Lying near the weary witness. Read more...

Poetry - Latch Key Kid By Patricia Gray

I was a kid of the 80s, I was a latch key kid, No-one to see what I got up to, To know just what I did. I'd run home from school, Put my key in the door, Have a drink and a sandwich, Throw my bag on the floor. Read more...

Poetry - Fallow Field By Laurenceaux.

I clawed the crumbling rocks. Through the frosty mists I crawled until spent and resigned to fail. I cut my hands and tore my nails for the ledge I had to find, then finding I fell. I awoke on my ledge to a feeling of loss; Read more...

Poetry I'm Going on a Diet By Catherine Scott

I'm going on a diet, I'm determined to get fit But first I must go shopping to purchase the right kit I'll ask Ruth if she'll go with me - she's sound with her advice Then we'll slip into café for a tea and custard slice I need to get some trainers and some fancy little socks Some shorts and track suit bottoms and one or two new tops I'll pop into the book shop and buy myself some books Read more...

Poetry Earwig By Mike Watts

I was miserable in a queue at my local post office Listening to a fat man Who owned his own car body repair shop Spouting to the cashier how he just loved All of the snow and ice Because he was earning a fortune And that he hoped it would continue For at least another six months As he was hoping to buy the spare land Read more...

Poetry - The Jeremy Kyle Show or That's Entertainment By Terry Ireland

It's on the television in the morning for five days of the week with its constant daily parade of inadequate, stupid and weak, all there to help him play his nasty little game in return for ten seconds of very dubious fame. He speaks to them quietly, Read more...

Poetry Later, You Returned to the Sea By Christy Hall

To the coast, what other setting but by the shore. We crept along the promenade holding hands, staying close in the cold. You were reluctant to step onto the sand in canvas shoes, so I piggy-backed you towards the surf, and the bank of wet stones. A sprig of seaweed, typical litter, a twig. IRead more...

Poetry - Some Kind of Sequel By Joe Hakim

My mam rang the other day. She had been reading the local paper, and she rang to tell me that she had seen an obituary. It was yours. You were one of my first girlfriends, Read more...

Poetry - Bagman Pete By Bernard Franklin
	This is the story of a good man, whose Christian name was Pete, though he started at the top of the tree, he ended up upon the street. He sleeps in Cardboard City, with other people just the same, to see them in their homes of paper, should make their families feel deep shame. Read more...