Ode To Medea By Scott Rorrison

So begins the tragedy of Medea Her love for Jason is truly dear; Father and brother now deceased, She helped Jason gain the Golden Fleece. Exiled in a foreign land She can no longer hold her fathers hand; For now they dwell amongst the Greek, Time will come for Jason to weep. For now he seeks a royal bed, So his family shall be well fed. Princess Glauce is regal and fair, Shame Medea's gonna burn her hair. So begins the Rage of Medea, Her spite for Jason is something to fear, Soon his children will be lost Because he broke the law of xenos. Creon suspects Medea's intention So he tries to send her to detention; But she is of a cunning race So the fool gives her a day of grace.

So Medea hatches a dreadful plot, It must be thought of on the spot. Curse them by Queen Hecate, The divinity she mostly venerates. In order for the feud to be appeased Medea sends a dress of soft white weave, It's anointed with deadly fire, Creon and Glauce are heaped on the pyre. Now only Jason is left, Soon to be bereft Because Medea has sunk low To deal him a crippling blow. Their two sons are now dead, For she stabbed them in the head; He has no burial right, So he's crying through the night. So ends the tragedy of Medea Her love for Jason was truly dear; Both their sons now deceased, Jason repents the Golden Fleece.

Copyright ©  Scott Rorrison 2007

Poetry - Is Anybody There? By Maurice Fairfield
	What's to come is still unsure Only one thing's really certain One day (some day fairly soon) I'll check out that final curtain * Will I play it centre-stage? Will I pass out in the wings? Will I rant in noble rage Read more...

Poetry - Mormon By Michelle Dee
	No coffee, no tea cigarettes are not for me. Read the good book everyday, pray all week church on Sunday. Peddle the word from door to door to preach the scriptures all the more. God to get the message across Read more...

Poetry - When Stella came to Town By Shaun Heesom
	The whole of 'Cheese' got drunk And plenty hit the ground This night of cheer, and Belgian beer When Stella came to town We'd put up with 'Hopfenperle' too long This weak insipid bevvy Read more...

Poetry - Spending Time At The Crime Scene By Joe Hakim

Coping with the enormity of committing the crime of the century, my heart is empty and so is my head, no sleep when I go to bed, something outside is dead.    Read more...

Poetry - Eyes By Michelle Dee
	I go out you all look at me Stares from everybody I see Your eyes burn my back What the hell are you looking at? Some sad excuse for a girl Tired eyes hair with a curl Read more...

Poetry - Lines of Life - Part Seven By Paul England

	So I decided to go to the gym. I stopped smoking pot and started training five days a week. I gained about a stone and a half over about 5 months. He still sorted my pot out but he never stayed at my house, and when he did come he always had a mate with him. You see before Mike died I'd have sorted him out with not a second thought, but I'd changed. Read more...

Poetry - Estonian Courage By Laura Fry

He Will always be here in my heart And you knew this from the start And the real man that you are knew he had to understand He Although my love was all in vain Read more...

Poetry - Beyond The Glass By Mike Watts
	Up, with the flat-top and yogurts I palm a circle into the condensation And watch, through fusty wet, A surrendered street expose itself. Two plaster-spattered jackets light up Beside a battered van. Read more...

Poetry - Little Miss Hoity-Toity On The Corner

	It's little miss hoity toity on the corner. The pinny people with the Jaguar, vegetable patch and perfect lawn. The kind that look out of their window every time they hear a horn. They are the posh estate rejects. The council estate so called "perfects". Bin cleaners, kerb sweepers and football pinchers. Police informants who keep garden ornaments. Read more...

Poetry - Litter Bug By Stuart Murray

	Space raider, the kerb invader. Regal packets reject, where's the focus point gone? A crushed Carling can is the point to this song. Mars bar wrapper, Carrier bag. Twix dropped like the fix. Read more...

Poetry - The Road Sweeper By Mike Watts
	Reluctantly he slipped away from the depot And pushing through his steaming breath With thin-gloved flesh numb as death, He shrank into the thickening snow. And like a bud, he embraced the dissolving Of whiteness, evermore bitter Read more...

Poetry - Lines of Life - Part Six By Paul England

	I remember this one night we went in pub. There was me, our lass, her sister and Deansy. We were playing pool when a fight broke out between some of the local dealers and a couple of guys. I saw what was going on and made a move real quick. I knew they had put one of them in a bad way. Later I heard on the radio that he was dead. My life was in bits and my head had gone to shit. Read more...

Poetry - The Green-Eyed Monster By Laura Fry

There's no logical reason that I should feel insecure, But when one's had the life I've had one can never be sure You are so sweet; your love is so true It was me that you married, my trust is in you But then I see these women that are Read more...

Poetry - British Person English Pride By Stuart Murray

	Stuart Murray www.myspace.com/britishpersonenglishpride is a new poet writing from his hometown in Leeds. His debut offering British Person English Pride is a collection of 27 poems. His keenly observed verse demands your attention, describing societal issues offset with an exploration of patriotism in today's Britain. Read more...

Poetry - Lines of Life - Part Five By Paul England

	In the end our Dave got with Bev and moved in with her. The housing people found out my mam was not living with us so I had to give the house up. I had a choice 'cos our Mike wanted it so he said I could live with him and his family or get a flat of my own. I let him move in. He had said that he wanted to stop selling pot and that he wanted me to so I did, but when he moved in he Read more...

Poetry - The Decline Of The Fishing Industry By Mike Watts
	Once I battled for frogs When the waters bubbled and croaked With slippery life. I hunted minnows, flashing silver arrows Darting through the weeds; Caught and re-housed in soup-tins, Chipped mugs, held tightly like Read more...

Poetry - Lines of Life - Part Four By Paul England

	In the end our Dave got with Bev and moved in with her. The housing people found out my mam was not living with us so I had to give the house up. I had a choice 'cos our Mike wanted it so he said I could live with him and his family or get a flat of my own. I let him move in. He had said that he wanted to stop selling pot and that he wanted me to so I did, but when he moved in he Read more...

Poetry - Off The Chest By Mike Watts
	I'm sick of you You're full of crap Mr 'victim' of the poverty trap What bollocks - and to be blunt You're just a fucking lazy cunt Sat on your arse for twenty years Blowing dope and necking beers Read more...

Poetry - Lines of Life - Part Three By Paul England

	About a year passed and my dad had met this bird, Sue. After a month or so she was moving in while we were getting pushed out. My dad had said that we would always come first but he lied. I remember one night I started arguing with Sue. I called her a silly cow and my dad grabbed me round the neck. I ran out and I said 'I'm going to my mams'. Read more...

Poetry - Paris Is Burning By Patrick Henry
	In '68, students seized Paris to man the barricade; Copied the '89 Revolution, when Jacobins stormed The Bastille; guillotined the ruling class to carve a state Into The Republic, which each new generation remade. In film, The Cars That Ate Paris, named autos the enemy. Now 2000 and odd, past boulevards, Read more...

Poetry - Lines of Life - Part Two By Paul England

	At this time I was knocking about with our Phil. He was working 'cos he had already left school. Me, I was always wagging off school and when I did bother to turn up I was just bad. I had three different teachers in my first three years at seniors, I never did my work, I was just a complete pain in the arse. Read more...

Poetry - The Hand That.....By Yellow Bear.

	The hand that heals, should be gentle, quiet and unobtrusive like the air, that gently cushions the leaf as it falls to its source. The hand that heals, should be unannounced in its giving, like the hand Read more...

Poetry - Lines of Life - Part One By Paul England

	We all start out the same, young, cocky and we just don't give a fu**. I was no different. For most my life I lived on North Hull and Bransholme. I've got two older brothers and a younger sister. I want to start my story when I was 10 years old going on 11. It was coming to the point where I was starting seniors, times were changing quick. Drugs were coming big again, and Read more...