I'll just take a walk, I tell myself,
A little look around.
I like the noise and the smell of it:
Hot fat, hot sugar, hot, fat flesh.
Belonging. Being anonymous.
Then I see him through the rage and din,
Through the clang and dazzle, like a dead, still space.
I check to be sure: no friends, no kin;
I recognize the emptiness in his face.
He is lost and alone and lonely, and looking for me.
We both know what is on offer, what must be.
Somehow his hand slips into mine
(Or it might be the other way around).
I lead him away from the thump and chime
To the unfair ground.
Heart jumping, mouth dry, eyes hungering
In that desperate place,
He does not see the blade coming -
It leaps at his face.
I kneel on his chest, on his filthy old coat,
And I sing, and I sing, as I slash at his throat:
'Dirty old men, dirty old men,
I'll kill you and kill you and kill you again.'
In the papers next day I learn his name.
And I'm already wondering: when?
I don't have much longer to play this game -
Soon, I'll be ten.
Poetry - You Never Said Goodbye By David Bannister
You went away that lonely day,
You never said goodbye.
I waited till the sky was dark,
And I began to cry.
Please come home soon Mam, I did say,
It isn't very fair
I never meant what I said,
You know I really care.
The balmy, early morning
Swirls and twirls in my gaze
Primary coloured windmills
In the salt tang air
The waving, littered tide line
Edges and hems the sand
single, shell and cobbles
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Sounds By David Thompson
Beeching's decimation of the rail,
Has left a leafy woodland trail,
Once a branch line to the sticks,
Took folks to 'With' for two and six,
That passes close beside our home,
A rustic byway free to roam,
From dog walking and country hikers,
Poetry - Larkin 25 - This Is 'Ull By Bronwyn Ellis
I know the cracks in your concrete complexion,
Familiar sights and a vinegary smell,
I filter unknown through a sea of strangers,
Considering streets I remember so well,
I am the child which left your guidance,
But still I visit all the time,
And when my feet touch on your land,
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Wings By Rivelino
Shunned, unable to
pick any of heaven's locks,
an angel tricked by camouflage and a devil
tampering with earthly clocks
has his wings stripped by
the devil's winds.
Human history is mined by the angel
Poetry - Larkin 25 - 'Oe Noe Joe' By Liz Healey
I'm coming up four
And you know what's more
For invention I've got a flair.
But I just know
I'll get an 'oe noe joe'
And told to sit on the bottom stair.
I sprayed Dad's veg
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Tit for Tat By Terry Ireland
Obama kicked ass good
with the boss of BP.
Now he's had the practice
perhaps we'll all see
ass kicked at Union Carbide
about the Bhopal disaster,
still polluting the land
twenty six long years after.
Poetry - Larkin 25 - The Dole Shop By Bronwyn Ellis
Come down to the dole shop,
With queue's of lifeless men,
Lining up like soldiers, armed with logbooks and a pen.
Come bask in their depression,
The air is hushed and bleak,
Each person striving to survive on fifty pound a week.
The addicts claw their paychecks, Read more...
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Dancer in the Sky By Helen Burke
Today, I saw a dancer in the sky -
And she was me.
Well, obviously she wasn't.
I use the term loosely, but something about
The way she kicked ass, head-butted clouds
The way her eyes billowed out with rain
Then hoped for sun,
Was reminiscent of this other self.
This painted bird.
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Heed The Warning By Patricia Gray
They told us on the telly to use protection
As that is the best way to avoid infection
But I didn't realise while I was having fun
The amount of damage which could be done
Till I went to the doctors on that day
and he looked so serious, filled me with dismay
I'm sorry to tell you, you've got an infection
Poetry Larkin 25 - Calm Before the Storm By Malcolm Wilson Bucknall
All around a stillness settles,
To cloak the solitude of night.
Sombre skies hang gaunt and heavy,
A calm befalls the fading light.
Then sounds of thunder swell in volume,
Lightning scars a crimson sky.
Tortured winds increase their fury,
Poetry - What Happens Next? By Steve Johnson
Everyone's here. Everyone.
Black and white, yellow and red, from leaders to the homeless.
Some people watch on the television,
some people listen carefully to the radio,
As the tense reporters speak to the world.
In the desert, the red carpet lies.
The stage is lit, and the microphone is prepared.
Poetry Coming to a Street Near You By Mike Watts
He's got tattooed arms
Thick as logs
And struts around with
Two big dogs
All teeth and gob
(To compensate his
He goes to work
Poetry Larkin 25 - The Sound that the Librarian Heard By Amber Goodwin
It wasn't until the librarian was quiet,
Seated comfortably in a chair and
Waiting, that he heard it That particular sound.
It encircled the empty hall,
Seeping into the chair, the air,
Moving through the house, its wall
A sound that could not be snared.
Poetry Larkin 25 - Burns Night Hangover By Pamela Scobie
Rabbie came hame frae Burns Night
In two thousand and three,
Pissed up and looking for a fight,
So he picks on me.
Put me in casualty.
I've never liked poetry.
Rabbie came hame frae Burns Night Read more...
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Air Messiah By Ashley Fisher
Welcome aboard to Air Messiah's
to Jehovah's Pearly Gate Airport.
Prophecies are good and we pray
for a smooth ascension. To ensure a pleasant passing over for
yourselves and other passengers
please observe the following rules:
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Larkin About on the Streets of Hull By Ray Warrington
After you passed that shining gull-marked mud
By the widening river where a large town stood,
Did you stop for a pee in Waterworks Street?
Did you ever bool a barrow down Trundle Street?
Were you ever cowardly in Craven Street,
Or ride your bike in Carr Lane,
Or drive a horse and cart in Chariot Street?
Were you hip in City Square?
Poetry - Larkin 25 - I Came Back to You in September By Ray Moody
I came back to you in September
you were quiet then
like you used to be
when men were men
and I was just a child
When the smell of the fish docks
mingled well with the stench of the slaughter from the cattle market