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Poetry |
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Is This Place Freedom?
By Nicholas Boldock
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The roads stretch out ahead of me
To which town will they lead?
And will there be a lady there
With dark brown eyes and long blonde hair
Who'll let me love her if I dare
Own up to what I need.
The city stands in front of me
What secrets does it hold?
And will I find a home inside
A place where no-one ever cried
And only children ever lied
And warmth is never cold.
The building reaches up to God
Inside I have a place
Cos home is not a kicked-in door
Nor broken pane nor blood stained floor
I only ask a little more
So I can show my face.
The room inside is stark and white
It calls itself my home
But will it keep me safe and well
While I still have a tale to tell
Of life inside a living hell
Or will I remain alone?
The single bed detached and cold
Will take my scarred and aching back
But will it stop my fractured dreams
Of mothers' cries and children's screams
Is this place freedom as it seems
Or will they send me back?
© Nicholas Boldock, May 2nd, 2003
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Poetry - Wrong by Michelle Dee.
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Getting ready to go out for the first time in weeks
she selects her favourite jumper. She woke with a
cold and a shiver in her bones but she's going out all the same.
Hurry up, he shouts, Get a move on, impatience in his voice
Picking her way carefully down the stairs in kitten heels
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Poetry - Involved 23 By Matthew Tasker
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DARK ARCHES
EVERYWHERE
BUILDINGS
MINDS
BODIES
SYMBOLS OF DESPAIR
PLACES OF WARMTH
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COMFORT
PEACE
RELEASE
DISEASE
THEY HAVE
INSPIRED
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Poetry
- Somebody and Pictures
at an Auction By Maurice Fairfield.
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Somebody sentenced me to life some time ago.
For something I can't remember doing.
Now as my sentence dwindles to its close,
Freedom no longer pulls me as it did.
My cell though cramped, is cosy,
And the meals arrive on time.
Also, I have grown used to them.
I have some cell-mates.
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Poetry - The Nurses Visit By Nadie.
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My voice is lost,
no-one hears me.
Well meaning,
tearing out my heart,
middle aged ladies,
'where did you buy these cushions?'
I'm dying inside,
Read more...
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Poetry - Chip Shop Woman by Lee Cassanell
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On Fridays and Mondays
And some times on Sundays
I enter your chamber of grease,
The waft of your Haddock
Lures me from my paddock
To lands of chip butties and cheese.
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Poetry
- Rosedale Chimney Hill By
Maurice Fairfield.
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Long ago in a different time
The World seemed bright and shiny new.
My chin still wore downy fuzz,
My eyes saw clearly, straight and true.
Though money was scarce I had my share
Of strengths and skills, and loads to bear
Could never crush inside my heart,
The love of life abiding there.
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Poetry - Void By Darren Sant
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"Where am I?"
Blackness. The absence of sound and light.
A non-entity floating in an inky void.
"Is anybody out there?"
Silence. Complete and utter nothingness.
Emptiness vast and lonely.
"Please answer me."
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Poetry - When You're Ready and Resolve By Steve Rudd
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We made a pact
At the last filling station
Interstate M62..
I was so proud of you
You'd never normally say boo..
Who drove you to rebel?
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Poetry - Demons by Shelly D.
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She wants a tattoo but really
at my age and a nipple pierced,
what is she thinking.
She got out again last night
always running away oh to be free
What will she do this time
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Poetry - Journeyman By Patrick Henry
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His learning class sank down the pits so deep as hell
Anyone expects from graft being a penance in the earth
To cut out coal black as mortal sin which burns
To fire steam force and make that world power work.
He lit out from there to war abroad: the tender flame
Of raw youth blown out close by where his chance survived..
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Poetry - Hangin' Around & The You and Me Poem
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By Jane Foster
In gangs we trawled the wet streets, alive with possibilities,
The smell of fresh rain and freedom in our noses.
How come they always say that we didn't have much,
When so much open space was ours?
Read more...
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