That old Amsterdam Pissoir.
Not exactly a thing of beauty,
Standing whatever the day,
Bravely carrying out its duty,
To help relieve a burden,
Urgent wherever you are,
Nothing quite like that old
Amsterdam street Pissoir
Now the conventional loo,
Is at times a veritable hell,
Surrounded as you can be,
With that rather pungent smell,
All hail those City fathers,
For not replacing with the new,
There's something rather poignant,
About passing water with a view.
Anya lives in Krakow:
Stanislav - Milton Keynes.
Anya, she has simple tastes:
He's 'a man of dreams'.
She says, 'You live in tiny flat!
Is nothing but a ghetto!'
Anya shops in Market Square:
Stanislav in Netto.
She braids her hair:
Poetry - Larkin 25 - England 2009 By Robert Swan
In a country stable,
Crumbling, but locked down.
Those that make-up the beast,
Benefit from its apparent confinement.
Well-groomed and watching all.
As those that serve the beast,
Take shelter below the jagged
Poetry - Toad on a Grecian Urn By Ashley Fisher
Why should I let the toad Larkin
squat on my verse? Like a cut-price Lourdes,
there is his image for sale, on a fridge
magnet or a disposable cigarette lighter or
perhaps some beer mats or
postcards or his unmistakable
amphibian visage. Read more...
Poetry Michaelmas Term By Pamela Scobie
Some bugger's been sick outside the front gate,
Prawn Tikka Masala's my guess,
(Well, it's pimply and pink) and I'm already late
And it's stuck to my shoe, so, yes -
The students are back. Queues of clueless cloned blondes
Clog up all the cashpoints, their hobbled young Johns
In perilous trousers, more saggy and creased
Than the bums of starved African tots. Three abreast, Read more...
Poetry - A Modern Christmas Carol By Terry Ireland
No Christmas at our house this year
Cos Santa's in the jug.
He got careless with his shopping
And they videoed his mug.
He explained it was just an impulse
And he was in a state of shock
He really had no idea of the time.
Early morning, really, four o'clock!
Poetry Juicier Than a Piece of Fruit By Adriana Fanigliulo
Juicer than a piece of fruit,
the plum-b-er comes to the flat
With copper pipes and cutters,
And thermostatic valves
He makes hot water run,
Changing the direction of buildings' circulatory systems Read more...
Poetry - Gospel Truths By Terry Ireland
I find no problem really
in the belief in a supreme god,
it's only the forms of its worship
that seem so rather odd.
Some preach love and understanding
and an adherence to its will,
but if others worship differently
there's such a readiness to kill.
Poetry Larkin25 - Plastic Bits (with Video) By Catherine Scott
I was walking down the street just the other day
When I met this woman who had something to say
She said, 'Look at me girl don't I look fantastic
I got high heeled shoes and they're made outta plastic'
I got a plastic bag and a plastic purse
I got my husband this plastic nurse
I got my son this plastic tank
Poetry Larkin25 - Growing Older Gracefully By Catherine Scott
As I grow older and I start to shrink
And my hearing and eye sight goes on the blink
Do you think there's any possibility?
That I might grow older gracefully?
Will my skin go all thin and papery?
Will I need a stick 'cos I walk shakily?
Will hairs start growing out of my ears?
But to be quite honest - that's the least
Poetry - Larkin25 - Dave The Evacuee By David Bannister
You'll have to go, my parents said,
Now eat your supper and go to bed.
The war had started, that awful day,
Tomorrow we'd be sent away.
My two sisters seemed unaware,
Of the trauma we'd about to bear.
Sent to school the next day,
And packed on buses, were on our way.
Poetry - Larkin 25 - A Phone Call to Philip Larkin By Liz Healey
Hello, is that Philip? I just want to say
That I LOVED your toads, and they've gone a long way
To give us Hull folk a great deal of fun,
My friend's made a book of them all, with her son.
The kids danced and climbed on them, hugged them to death
With grans, mums and dads all out of breath
Doing the trail, and enjoying the sun;
But Philip, just listen, I couldn't get one.
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Me Selfish? No! By Brian Cotton
Married? You want to get married?
Are you having a laugh?
Sorry for sounding snappy,
But why spoil what we have?
No, that's never going to happen,
I ain't moving in,
It's against my religion,
I aint living in sin.
Poetry - Larkin 25 - The Demon Driver of Holderness By David Thompson
With monobosom, crocheted hat,
When once behind the wheel she's sat,
This luminary of the ladies circle,
Around the country roads will hurtle,
At breakneck speed from place to place,
To With and back at blistering pace,
O'er the hill and down the dell,
White knuckle ride, bat out of hell,
Poetry Larkin 25 - Without You By John Fewings
Without you -
Sweet and sour would just taste bitter,
Every street be filled with litter.
I'd exercise but not get fitter,
Need laughing gas to raise a titter -
Granny Smiths would be less juicy,
There'd be no gander for the goosey,
Poetry - Larkin 25 - Distraction By Robert Swan
I was looking at your legs,
Those curves that sway down
To your toes.
I was enjoying your lips,
Then your eyes;
Then your nose.
I was lost on a pathway
I would love to retrace,
Across the pristine paradise
Poetry - Larkin25 - Pointless Journey By Mark Walmsley
As I sit here,
In this half way,
Staring blankly through
The rain soaked window
Pushing unwanted food
Around my plate, all chipped and dirty
My half eaten breakfast,
Poetry - Larkin 25 - The University of Hull Students Union By Julie Corbett
With the right shoes
and standing away from the
Dance floor; you can feel
a sticky ooze in the carpet
of John McCarthy's Bar.
Not strong enough to
hold you fast, it tells
of Happy Hours and those
Real Ale fests where
Poetry - Larkin25 - To Skipper Pete By Terry Ireland
Today I walked the Humber Bank
Across the old locks
On in the grey drizzle
Through the old town docks;
Normally a solitary walk but
Today I happened to meet
An ex trawler skipper from
Our old deep sea fishing fleet.
He told me the fleet still existed
Poetry - Larkin 25 - This Be The Verse By Bronwyn Ellis
They fuck you up
They may not mean to
But they do
They fill you up with endless lies
False promises made just for you
But they were fucked up in their turn
When Eaton moulded the young MPs
A stiff upper lip as a stiff lower member
Poetry Larkin 25 - Rock and Soul By Kerry-Joe Pulford
And he stared at me forever,
Like he wanted to lick me,
Like I was rock with 'Soul' writ through me,
And if he just had money, house, car and a ring
He could be one of us, and talk about things
I could sense his anguish, well this bit -
The 'Take him to the pub and make him fit' shit.
But I couldn't turn away,
Poetry - War Broke Out When I Was Young By George William Beswick
The War broke out when I was young,
And I'd never been away,
And then the 'call up' papers came,
To join in the affray.
And on a January morn,
'Mid lots of frost and snow,
I left my dear beloved home,
To be a soldier I must go
Poetry - Remembrance Day By Terry Ireland
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
Poetry - Blitzed Not Broken By David Bannister
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?