I sat there in silence
as the 11th hour chimed
just a little tribute
then for those few who bothered
the world set off again
not a fitting tribute
for those lost women and men
I did not wear a poppy
I never ever do
that does not mean my thoughts
are any less sincere or true
there should be no need of charity
for the survivors
their children or wives
they should be paid in diamonds
still not enough
for lost and broken lives.
What is this talk about a war?
They can't be right, they can't be sure.
But they were right I soon learnt,
The bombed our city, how it all burnt.
The city was ours, the name was Hull,
A man called Hitler had started his cull.
It never took him very long,
September the fourth he came along.
Poetry - For Those Who Died By Ted Harben
If pale at the concrete centre of town
There stood on Remembrance Day,
A soldier in blood-stained battle-dress
With a tin, and a poppy tray,
Could you hurry by with head held high
With never a glance his way
At his wounded side, his hands, his feet
Poetry - Over The Top By Mark Walmsley
We huddle, in this puddle, waiting for the shells to stop.
We cry, we turn, our heads to the sky, a whistle to go over the top
Can't get a grip, we fall we slip, knee high we wade through the mud
A foot on the ladder, piss from a weak bladder, dead men fall back with a thud.
The mustard air,
Poetry - A Soldier's Appeal, From One Killed In Ireland By Ted Harben
Will no-one buy a poppy
just for the likes of me?
Born, I was in sixty-one
and died in eighty-three.
I joined up as a soldier
in nineteen seventy-eight
and little thought my uniform
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Single Mums By Gary Clark
It's a lonely life for a single mum
An empty purse
When the shopping's done
Beans on toast
Every night for tea
The staple diet of a one parent family.
Her baby sleeps soundly on
Poetry - Umberto Echoes By Lee Cassanell
A pillared salt of sinners,
dissolving in the rain
The wear of time it suffers,
and we are not to blame.
A fragile dream is scripture
A Prophet's passion bled
The humor of perception
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Popstar By Ray Moody
He reflected, 'Hadn't he always been so near yet so far?'
Wasn't he there right at the start with The Beatles?
They might have had their Mersey Beat but hadn't he been part of the Humber Beat,
and wasn't water, water?
The trouble was that nobody else wanted it,
Did any agents, record companies or managers, bother coming to this city?
Poetry Ten Foot Cock By Lady Larkin
I've been reading this for years now,
And at first I thought it was alright,
But the same old grudges and points you make,
Are turning the mag into shite.
We get it,
You're an 'in-de-pen-dent -mag-a-zine', Read more...
Poetry Plodding Into History By Vaughan Clements
A colliery in Yorkshire,
A powerful image captured
In the darkness of a mine.
As a picture tells a story,
This one relates to Ball,
A pony blessed with massive strength,
Though only 12 hands tall.
Poetry No Toads Today By Darren Sant
I walked along the road,
Perchance to see a toad,
I wanted to see a toad with spots,
But there it was not,
A dastardly fiendish plot?
A felt like such a clot!
The toads they'd gone a Larkin.
Poetry When We Had It All By Dobski
Midnight 'ire car, drivin' down dark country lanes,
anticipation builds MDMA flows through the veins.
Four o' five young bucks raring to go,
we each popped a pill over an 'our ago.
We must be close now, somewhere round 'ere,
could be the party of the year.
'Ere we go lads'... I jus' seen, Read more...
Poetry Quills By Christy Hall
I'm walking Italy. Tuscany.
But I could be anywhere, at any time.
Scattered on the side of the road,
is a pile, a spillage.
They look like spines, or branches
feathered out into a wash of spindles,
like horizontal-growing heather. Read more...
Poetry - Hull By Georgena Thacker
Hush, Stop, Listen, the City is singing,
A song of lost people with the sea in their blood.
A hardy race without false sentiment,
adapting to the sea of change.
Its shores are breached,
the horizon is coming into focus,
shining with new promises of a different future for the children.
Poetry Don't Ever Use The 'P' Word By Mike Watts
Besides the bar staff,
We were the only two faces
In the room
I offered her a drink.
She raised a thumb
And thanked me
I brought over a pint and a half Read more...
Poetry Larkin 25 - City By The Sea By Jade Kennedy
The grey clouds hastened onwards,
burdened with winter rain.
Brought by North sea winds,
they weighed heavily on the bricks and mortar,
of the city by the sea.
Walls that hold tales of life.
Of lives lived behind the same painted door.
Poetry Larkin 25 - Tess By Amber Goodwin
He loved me. He swore it loud
and painfully. Hands like marble,
Grey and cold, like that spirit - a broken
Infant. It was too late to scream.
Apparently, I made my choice.
It is of late. My fingers caress the smooth,
Gratuitous fabric. Wishing for silk, Read more...
Poetry Larkin 25 - Imelda By Pamela Scobie
Imelda liked to squash things flat.
She loved the crunch, and then the splat!
She also liked to tear the wings
From inoffensive flying things,
And feed them to the cat.
I asked her once, in some alarm,
Why she inflicted so much harm. Read more...
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Bite For You By Robert Swan
I'm not the punctual kind,
But tonight I'm in time,
To feed you a rhyme,
It bites your head,
It bites your heart,
It remakes the template from the start.