33 Archived submissions found.
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Old glasses knew (posted on: 25-09-15) New things without life I put my old glasses on to remember
Edges blurred, softened like portrait pictures
Airbrushed to the max with love
I'd only had my new glasses a week
Very sudden, nowhere near
No chance for goodbyes
Old glasses saw her on holiday, in bikinis, tankinis,
heaven forbid topless. Saw her eat, drink, carouse,
caress, got themselves knocked off my head
New glasses haven't had a chance to learn
what old glasses knew, the only thing they share
is the bedside table, when the lights go out
Archived comments for Old glasses knew sweetwater on 25-09-2015 Old glasses knew Very unusual poem, never read one celebrating old glasses before. I thought this a very gentle, loving and poignant write, I loved it. π Sue.
Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind words. Kipper on 25-09-2015 Old glasses knew Many of us I am sure will have shared a relationship with their glasses for years (and probably had another pair on the side as well).
I guess it's a relationship we take for granted.
Nice take on such a common subject.
Cheers
Michael
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Don't touch me if (posted on: 08-08-14) Sometimes the tension is unbearable Don't touch me if you don't mean it
When we're lying in the dark don't
Stroke me with that feather light touch
That slams into me like two
Hundred and forty volts and leaves
Me, as Seamus says, all a-patter
don't tease
Don't look at me out of the corner
Of your eye, making blood rush
To all of me on show, looking at
Me with greed in your eyes as
If I was just your platter and you
Were ready to devour me whole
please tease
When you have me in your
Spiders web, when I am stuck
Within that silken lair, as you
Play along me slowly and
Gradually, taking me as you build
The crescendo in to a blinding pain
please don't
stop
Archived comments for Don't touch me if
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Perseid Never Shone (posted on: 11-04-14) PTSD No shooting stars or meteor lights
were seen by me, under cloud cover
and the warmth of cardboard
I stayed as reclusive as ever
I've seen stars in the desert
local kids call me stig
It wasn't always like this for me
A Corporal in the Infantry, wife,
kid, happy with going to war
It was the coming home that hurt
Whilst you are away they send you books
To read, try to take your mind off things
To ease their guilt I suppose
And mine needed a balm
I read some poetry about a man
who was dying, but his son
expected him to fight death,
fight with all his might against the fading light
Nowadays the young men struggle
to maintain a life, struggle
against the dying light
the light in their own eyes
You would scarce believe this world
now Dylan, no god as such to write for
No more lamenting
No great wars to be conscientious about
We are a poor race we humans
Perhaps some rage would help
Archived comments for Perseid Never Shone Pelequin23 on 11-04-2014 Perseid Never Shone emotive and complex it makes you think and question
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Mikeverdi on 11-04-2014 Perseid Never Shone Good to see your work again, great stuff.
Mike
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Bozzz on 11-04-2014 Perseid Never Shone Man can live in many worlds, this is what distinguishes him from the animal kingdom. Sadly he can also die in them. Which is better? The poem trades thought for understanding, interesting...Bozzz
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pdemitchell on 15-04-2014 Perseid Never Shone A fabulous nod to Dylan Thomas as we rage, rage against the dying of the light. Mitch π
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My Worst Friend Ever (posted on: 07-02-14) A homage to cold sores I suffer with cold sores
That viral itch, the twitch
I say suffer but that might
Not be the right word
For being run down, bogged down
I've had them for more than a long
Time, in the span of my life
Long before I met a wife
A present from an Aunt before
They knew what the open sores meant
The virus lies in wait in the limbic
System until all your energy is
Expended and you are vulnerable to
Attack, it's a nasty little twat
And we'll never be free of each other
They call it Herpes Simplex but
I call it my Hermes because like
The battleship I'm a carrier
It's a harrier when it's in charge
Laying me low, not letting go
Until I force it back inside
With a recharge of the battery
Coaxing it in with flattery
Making myself get better
Even too much sun can stop me
Having fun, an overload on the
Vitamin D, put the itch back
Into me and when I go
Indoors my blood becomes enraged
As if I've never engaged
With the virus sat within
I've even been a guinea pig
For the creams you see on telly
Put this on when you feel the itch
It's got a long funny name
Would score well at scrabble
You know the game, soon clear up,
Till you have another flare up
Cold sore, you goddam bore
I'd like to eradicate you of
That I'm sure, you're knowledge
Of my welfare is unnerving
For when you are 'in' I am down
And out, and you my only friend
By the time I feel the itch
It's too late
Archived comments for My Worst Friend Ever Mikeverdi on 07-02-2014 My Worst Friend Ever Shit!! and I thought my cancer was bad...Ha Ha! good to see you back Steve. Mike
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A Long Time Ago (posted on: 29-11-13) The past. He waits for her in the rain
They haven't seen each other for an age
Since they went their separate ways
Devastated at the way they broke each other
He doesn't expect forgiveness
Just to talk, like grown-ups do
Something they never managed
When they were trying to act mature
They've papered over the cracks
Created by constantly hammering each other
Trying to win the battle by pin fall or submission
Like seedy, seventies town hall wrestling
He tries to look at their lives differently
Hoping that it wasn't all wrong
Trying to recall their spark
Love snuffed out such a long time ago
Archived comments for A Long Time Ago Mikeverdi on 29-11-2013 A Long Time Ago Hello mate, good to see you back here. I like this one, just a thought...would you wring out a spark? Maybe try another word to make it perfect π only my opinion.
In friendship
Mike
Author's Reply: Hi Mike,
Let's see how 'snuffed' works.
Regards,
Steve. Bozzz on 29-11-2013 A Long Time Ago This sort of encounter must happen a million times a day. With what percentage of success??. Good description of a cliche....David
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Kipper on 30-11-2013 A Long Time Ago David snuk in before me, my resonse being in similar vein.
How many people find their dreams shattered and hopes 'snuffed' out.?
A good question perhaps but as your piece suggests, no easy answers.
Michael
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bo_duke99 on 01-12-2013 A Long Time Ago a lot of feeling in this, maybe a cool eyed look back can help - Greg
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My Lolita (posted on: 30-09-13) If only I was that lucky !!! Certainly not sixteen
Closer to twenty four
This feline, sexual minx
Came knocking on my door
I'd seen her face before
Went to school with her dad
Much closer to fifty than forty
Forgotten how to be naughty
She's stirred a long lost memory
Awoken a certain part of me
Buzzing and ringing between my ears
Full frontal assault of age old fears
I feel like the object
Of a long forgotten school project
Swabbed into a peccary dish
This week I'm a floundering fish
And when the lights go out
In the dark I am Adonis once more
Archived comments for My Lolita Andrea on 30-09-2013 My Lolita Ah me, tempus fugit, eh?
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Bozzz on 30-09-2013 My Lolita Twice your age and feel the same - the urge never dies but eventually hope does. ... Good poem - much enjoyed... Bozzz
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bo_duke99 on 01-10-2013 My Lolita name - call the police
poem - call the cops
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Ionicus on 03-10-2013 My Lolita You fifty and she twenty four? You are both above the age of consent, no need to involve the cops. So, what are you waiting for? You should be at your peak. Unless there is a wife eager to use a rolling pin.
But I see the quandary for older guys.
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Pelequin23 on 06-10-2013 My Lolita ahhh to be young again
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Pronto on 06-10-2013 My Lolita Oh yeah I know what you mean. I was 53 rescued a young diver girl 22 she wanted to give me a real special 'thank you' I crapped myself and ran! Jaysus I now wish I hadn't! π
Great poem mate.
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New Glasses Don't Know (posted on: 31-05-13) Just a poem. I'd only had my new glasses for a week
When she died
Sudden, accident, nowhere near me
No goodbyes
I put my old glasses on to remember her
The edges are a little blurred
Softened like portrait pictures
Airbrushed to the max, by love
My old glasses saw her on holiday
In bikinis, tankinis, heaven forbid, topless
My old glasses watched her eat, drink
Carouse, caress, got themselves knocked off my head
New glasses haven't had a chance
To learn what old glasses know
The only place they feel an affinity
Is on the bedside table, when the light goes off.
Archived comments for New Glasses Don't Know orangedream on 01-06-2013 New Glasses Dont Know An emotive poem, well penned.
Tina
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Never Tear A Page (posted on: 27-05-13) One of the things we must do to write a poem. Never tear a page out of your book
You'll never remember it if you lose it
It's bound to be the one you'll miss
Even if you're only using it as a bookmark
It may point you in another direction
A word you may associate another way
My book is my little treasure trove
Poems just started, or finished
Waiting to be typed, edited, polished
It helps me overcome any block, cramp
Just looking through at unused verses
Helping to set off a chain reaction
Pages may come loose, use a rubber band
Keep it compact until full and remember
Never tear a page out of your book
Archived comments for Never Tear A Page Weefatfella on 27-05-2013 Never Tear A Page
I should take your advice.
I've dried up at the moment.
I know I'll come screaming back when the taxman's gone.
Weefatfella.
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ValDohren on 28-05-2013 Never Tear A Page I keep all my pages Savalot, lots of half written poems and lines. What did we do without dog clips, wonderful things !! Good advice in your poem. Very good.
Val
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Sonnet To A Beginning (posted on: 24-05-13) A need to write. If I try to write into the night
She wonders what I am doing
It's just a need that needs fulfilling
A well that calls for a bucket
Each load carries a story
That has to be assembled like a jigsaw
Some more complicated than others
Some so simple they make you cry
The ease with which they present themselves
Childlike in their naivety
The bond they create with you
Like when a newborn first looks at you
Connections in your mind take hold
Words make you responsible for them
Archived comments for Sonnet To A Beginning Bozzz on 24-05-2013 Sonnet To A Beginning A nice piece of prosetry, good analogies, but not a sonnet. The last line is a charmer...Bozzz
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karen123 on 24-05-2013 Sonnet To A Beginning I don't think anyone who does not write can understand the need to write a writer has.
It is a need.
Liked this very much
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Weefatfella on 24-05-2013 Sonnet To A Beginning
Aye and it's not just poets.
I find the merest thing can upset the flow.
The zone is unreachable. annoying!
Weefatfella.
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ValDohren on 26-05-2013 Sonnet To A Beginning Yep, just about sums it up - but no, not a sonnet.
Val
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Rekindled (posted on: 03-05-13) Emotion. (A backdraft is a situation which can occur when a fire's product-gases are starved of oxygen, consequently combustion slows. If oxygen is re-introduced to the fire e.g. by opening a door to a closed room, combustion will restart, often resulting in an 'explosive' effect)
She approaches the room in her mind
Only she can enter
Just herself with the recalcitrant emotion
Trying to explain its incarceration
The pain its release could cause
The last time this door opened
And the emotion allowed release
An unmitigated disaster ensued
Given to the wrong recipient
Starved of what it needed to survive
Reduced to a single nub
The emotion lies dormant in the room
Awaiting the opening of the door
The sudden influx of the element
That will kick-start its life
She is afraid to open the door again
Unsure of how the emotion will react
What it will do to her when fed
How it could consume her
What would be left of them both?
He wants to find the key
To open that very last door
The last one she hides behind
He wants to feed the emotion
Give it what it desires, feel its heat
She is afraid, he wants to be brave
He offers her the trust she craves
Takes her by the hand to the door
Turns the key, flings it wide open
The emotion tastes the element it desires
The ensuing conflagration sears them both
She sees him standing like a rock
Gathering her need to him
Stoking rather than dousing her fire
Finally, someone to tend her passion
The heat remains, embracing them
The door, frame, entrance detonated away
The emotion content now as a pilot light
Awaits his touch, no longer dormant
Alive, rekindled
Archived comments for Rekindled karen123 on 04-05-2013 Rekindled wow - as one who is locked behind so many doors and so afraid of any kind of emotion this really spoke to me. To have someone who is brave enough to stand there in the fire until it is all burnt out is someone to treasure.
Thank you for your poem
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ValDohren on 05-05-2013 Rekindled Excellent writing Savalot, kept me engaged to the end. Great take on emotional catharsis.
Val
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The Poet Stalker (posted on: 29-04-13) A bit of scary fun !! Plagiarize and bastardize
The works of those soon dead
Use their words as though their mine
Whilst vultures circle around their head
Pinch a line off Carol D
Re-work a piece off Roger M
A whole stanza from Tony H
Let's see what else I can nick from them
I'd like to thank them for the thought
Out of their book I recently bought
As I stood and parted with my cash
I knew in my mind their blood I'd splash
Whole new things they've brought to me
As I stand and shout my soliloquy
Listen as my voice does boom
From behind the walls of my day release room
What next can they bring to me
Maybe a sequel to the wonderful V
Or will Roger die his young man's death
Will Manhattan stifle Carol's breath
For now it's just these three I'll stalk
Follow with my pencil as they walk
If they should trip and fall or slip
I want the last word off their lip
Those last words won't by them be penned
I'll have my own words at their end
And when they're gone I'll find three more
I might be knocking on your door
Eventually I'll reach the top
Eventually I'll have to stop
And I'll have created for all to see
The brand new Dead Poets Society
Archived comments for The Poet Stalker ValDohren on 29-04-2013 The Poet Stalker Very good Savalot - I'm sure you wouldn't dream of plagiarism!! Enjoyed reading, amusing too.
Val
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The World Waves Goodbye (posted on: 26-04-13) Just a thought Read what's written in front of you
About the past behind you
The woman that's beside you
The world that's all around you
Have you still got time to learn?
When you find you have to earn
Folks look at you and become stern
Your childish things you'll have to burn
Imagine living without a care
Just like the child still stuck in there
All your world a magical fair
With silly games like truth or dare
Games that adults no longer play
Like postman's knock to run away
Doctors and nurses some other day
Or hide and seek, no one will stay
Adult games tinged with desire
Games to set your blood on fire
Games to incite a partner's ire
Retracted words from the red-faced liar
For when you pass a certain age
It's like your life is on a stage
All enclosed in a lion's cage
Squatting, festering, fuelled by rage
Looking for the exit out
To live a life without the doubt
A brave new dawn to think about
Escape before the frustrated shout
How to break out from the norm
What's the score, what's the form?
Like days spent back in that schoolboy dorm
Realising the start of your violent storm
Back then I formed a plan
What to do when grown to man
All in tatters like a broken fan
Confined to history before I began
I sit and watch as life goes by
Past my tower in the blink of an eye
From my self-imposed eyrie way up high
The world looks at me and waves good-bye
Archived comments for The World Waves Goodbye Savvi on 26-04-2013 The World Waves Goodbye good title, and the poem captures our journey through life very well, spot on meter (thanks for the lesson) make the flow so smooth that it rushes bye much like life. Thanks S
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As An Observer (posted on: 19-04-13) I don't get religion. Why are no churches built
in Muslim lands?
I ask this as an observer
without either faith
I remember missionaries preaching
to the heathen, from somewhere
before I gave up on religion
And I'm pretty sure I've read
every muslim is in a jihad against
all non-believers, but that's
just the extreme elements
Six hundred years between these
religions, one follows an in the
flesh human, one follows a man
that might have been, both to
the detriment of women, when it
was women that put them here
Underpinning them all is Judaism
They know a thing or two
About survival
Archived comments for As An Observer Andrea on 20-04-2013 As An Observer I don't get it, either - enjoyed your pome, though π
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Death of a Virgin (posted on: 19-04-13) Defloration Blood on the end of his cock
Stood rigid like a rock
He knew that there'd be blood inside
When he chose a virgin bride
Blood dripping mixed with semen
The end of the out-stretched hymen
No more blushing virgin bride
Now just a bride
And what of her stallion groom
From where does his experience bloom?
Or did more than one virgin die that night
Not only she, was swathed in white
Archived comments for Death of a Virgin Andrea on 20-04-2013 Death of a Virgin Oooh-er, I say! It made me laugh - do hope it wasn't meant to be serious (but then I do have a weird sense of humour)
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stormwolf on 21-04-2013 Death of a Virgin Hi Savalot
I am all for bold poetry and am certainly not easily shocked...there was just something about this that was abhorrent.
You have said critique and comments welcome so this is it. I felt the imagery was shocking but not in a nice way... a bit disgusting actually. I also do not care for the feeling or 'voice' behind it.
You have had in excess of 80 reads but only one has commented up till now.
I sincerely do not want to discourage you...but as a woman I recoiled.
Sorry
Alison
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Don't - I Like It! (posted on: 12-04-13) Emotions. The intensity of you hurts me
You seem blind to the flames
I've been drinking and writing
You've been creating and need succour
We prowl around each other
On our sofa, in front of the fire
Daring each other to speak
Or to sigh out of turn too loudly
We build the tension deliberately
Stomping up the stairs to bed
Throwing our clothes down aggresively
Until we are naked and fuming with lust
Archived comments for Don't - I Like It! Kat on 12-04-2013 Dont - I Like It! I like this portrayal. Have been in a relationship like that. Good last stanza.
Kat
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Where Did The Noise Go? (posted on: 12-04-13) Nature takes a breath A finch flies in attracted
By the calls of those around
Letting the ether know of the cluster
Birds on the wing let the knowledge slip
Of the nut delight on the wall
A quick take-away before heading on
To another table in another yard
Chirping for another's ear
Unaware of the silence they leave behind
A dread silence, like the deliberate scene
Where the noise is taken out
To signify the impending danger
Before the freeze-fried shock makes you jump
The heart beats faster than a Keith Moon drum roll
Why this happens, I Can't Explain
A noise breaks into the silence
Just a little insinuation in the brain
That lets you know normal service is being restored
The Robin is on the scene
Bullying all who would take his feed
Bringing focus back into line
You can relax once again
Everything back in place
Just remember, sometimes nature holds her breath
Archived comments for Where Did The Noise Go? karen123 on 13-04-2013 Where Did The Noise Go? I loved this. It is so true - near me is a large plot of land that has been left to grow wild. I walk there most days and usually there is all sorts of noise, from birds to small animals (rats) rustling around in the undergrowth - then quite suddenly it stops and there is silence and it really does seem like everything is holding its breathe and waiting.
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japanesewind on 13-04-2013 Where Did The Noise Go? I really enjoyed your interaction here of nature, you injected a tension that I sometimes feel if they are telling each other a cat is around especially when fledglings are around.....fine closing line...David
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Mikeverdi on 13-04-2013 Where Did The Noise Go? Good writing Steve, I liked it a lot; Nice finish with the last line. I wondered if the Keith Moon reference and the 'can't explain' was deliberate :-). Mike
Author's Reply: I'm a big Who fan Mike, so it was definitely deliberate. Bozzz on 13-04-2013 Where Did The Noise Go? You have studied well - done justice to the precarious and scrappy life of small birds. Some excellent writing amid the chatter. ..Bozzz
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ValDohren on 13-04-2013 Where Did The Noise Go? Nature often holds her breath when there is impending danger such as an earthquake or thunderstorm - beautifully captured here in your poem.
Val
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Remember - Part 1 (posted on: 25-03-13) A short precis of early years. Do you remember walking along the
Top of a wall for the first time
Without your mum holding your hand
Because it was too tall
Not realising how intensely aware
She was that you were so small
And yet always her little man
Do you remember your first kiss
On your cheek off a girl as small as you
Nursery or infant school, you'd found
A touch of gallantry, given over a toy
That stopped eyes welling up
Became a knight for an instant
Till another boy was kissed and you welled up
Do you remember that first day
At the big school, the bus trip
Or the walk in new shoes
Scuffed by the end of the week
Both you and the shoes, trying to
Get yourself ready for the big world
Learning to develop survival skills already
Do you remember the last day
At the big school, the confidence you had
Ready to take on the world, oldest
Looking boy had managed to get
Some beer from the local off-licence
So cock-sure that everything would
Work out, the world your oyster
Do you remember your first job as an adult
You thought you were adult at 16 didn't you
Getting up early to make a big impression
On a big world that would swallow you up
A world that you would soon learn wasn't
The idyllic one that had been painted for you
By people you never realised wanted you to succeed
Do you remember the first girl you loved
And lost, and swore you'd never fall in love
Again, but you didn't understand the addiction
That had afflicted you, the need you had
To love and be loved, to have and to hold
That nagging ache that you never wanted
A whole new necessity in life
Do you remember your first legal pint
18 years old and a real man, finally
Stood by a proud father and grand-dad
Made to pay your way and yet still
Asked for i.d. like some joke amongst
The adults you didn't get yet, wouldn't do
Till you'd seen it repeated over and over
Do you remember 20-30 at all
They say if you remember the sixties
You weren't there, do you remember
The girls, the gaffes, the laughs with the lads
Finding the one, losing her, finding
The next one, time flying by like
Concorde on nitro, where did it all go?
Archived comments for Remember - Part 1 Savvi on 25-03-2013 Remember - Part 1 A clever piece that allows the reader to superimpose their own invoked memory over the poem. Very much enjoyed. In answer to your question I have no idea where it went or continues to go. Savvi
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Saturday Religion (posted on: 18-03-13) Watching the football results come in. Sat in the other room in the pub
Alone in company, alive in thought
Noises coming through the walls
The religion of Saturday's results
Much cleaner atmosphere these days
Not the foggy times of youth
In the bar with the vidi-printer
Old men, Dickie Davies and 8 score draws
Even the pub itself seems strangely modern
Hand pulled beer a rarity, mass produced
Pints of gas, or bottles of apples and pears
But the old vinyl benches remain
In place of the pools we have the lottery
The bonus ball bonanza of luck
Thirty people share ten quid
Every other week, if they're lucky enough
The only community spirit left in the village
If the church sold communion wine cheap
More would visit, but on Saturdays
The only religion is the results
Archived comments for Saturday Religion Savvi on 18-03-2013 Saturday Religion A sense of melancholy to this but an acceptance of the new, I enjoyed the look back. Thanks S
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orangedream on 21-03-2013 Saturday Religion Well-penned, this one Savelot, and I like the title.
You are right, much has changed over the years...Dickie Davis for one;-)
The last stanza is particularly telling.
Tina
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Andrea on 21-03-2013 Saturday Religion I pine for the old days...
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Nature Meanders (posted on: 15-03-13) Just natures way. Nature doesn't travel in straight lines
She meanders in and out of our lives
Rivers and streams change course
Although their lifetimes might
Span longer than ours and we may
Never see their next turn, they
Will roll over us and beyond us
Nature doesn't make triangle hills
Mounds may grow into mountains
Ranges will sink and fall over time
That we will only guess at
Millennia will come and go as
They try to raise themselves
Above what we thought they were
Nature's grass grows in swathes
Not linear lines on stadium pitches
It moves with the wind and allows
Cattle and sheep to keep it neat
Self seeding the bald patches to keep
Life green, sucking in our bad air
And giving us back our daily breath
Nature's trees aren't the cartoon kind
Branches move and wrap around each
Other like old friends, leaves are like
Mayfly, there one season, gone till
The next, dressing the branches
So the trees can preen in green
Nature's true colour through many shades
Archived comments for Nature Meanders cooky on 16-03-2013 Nature Meanders excellent write which captures the life of this planet. i like this
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Kat on 17-03-2013 Nature Meanders A wonderful write with lots of clever ways to maintain rhythm and metre. Many parts I especially like:
'Not linear lines on stadium pitches'
'Self seeding the bald patches to keep
Life green, sucking in our bad air
And giving us back our daily breath'
'So the trees can preen in green'
I'm not usually a great fan of nature poems as such, just because it's so often written about (like love), and there's nothing wrong with that, but it's hard to do things differently, and nature is an excellent metaphor, of course, which I think you show here.
Kat x
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Andrea on 17-03-2013 Nature Meanders Yes, agree with Kat. Good stuff.
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The Big Lad (posted on: 11-03-13) A sight often seen A Big lad came in
You know the score
A Big lad came in
Frame filled the door
But he had a little wife
Who really bossed the game
Just a little wife
Who let slip his special name
A Big lad came in
Of that I have no doubt
A Big lad came in
But he never went out
Archived comments for The Big Lad stormwolf on 13-03-2013 The Big Lad Hi Savalot
This made me smile. Such a simple poem but with a deep message!
well done.
Alison x
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Savvi on 14-03-2013 The Big Lad Is she a feeder ? I like the message and its simplicity packs a punch. S
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The Last Thought (posted on: 01-03-13) Trying to make sure we get it all down. Sometimes I don't have the time to write
Can't seem to lay my hands
On that most precious commodity
Suddenly it's as if it slipped through my fingers
Like the sand that is used to represent it
The day has passed me by
In the twitch of an eye
I lie in my bed close to slumber
Unable to focus the thoughts
Unable to bring pen to paper
Behind my heavy eyes a flicker of remembrance
A few words that I had put together earlier that day
Hoping that I would be able to re-conjure them later
Like a clown trying to recall up which sleeve
He'd hidden the bouquet
I'm unable to make any sense of them
Can't recall the circumstances
That brought them together
Was it something I'd seen or heard?
What put them together that way?
Too tired now to understand the fusion
The cyclic nature of the dreamscape
Is beginning to descend
One last attempt to grasp the thread
Too late, the pencil slips quietly to the floor
Archived comments for The Last Thought cooky on 01-03-2013 The Last Thought I like this . the third stanza is terrific
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Mikeverdi on 01-03-2013 The Last Thought Great writing Steve. Mike
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ValDohren on 02-03-2013 The Last Thought Know just what you mean Savalot - been there many times. Very well penned.
Val π
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Savvi on 03-03-2013 The Last Thought Very fine writting, and a sleepy topic I really enjoyed the sence of drifting away you created with this. All the stanza's carry weight with detailed images. My only thought is that the line below lets the rest down by feeling forced and a little cliche when all others are original, hope you don't mind me saying that and I only say it because the rest of the poem stands out for me.
In the blink of an eye
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Leopard Print Carpets (posted on: 18-02-13) Old fashioned boozers eh? Leopard print carpets
Leopard print carpets
I know he said it was an
Old-fashioned boozer
But leopard print carpets
Flock wallpaper
Flock wallpaper
Covered in sepia tinted photos
Vinyl benches in the bar
Velvet in the snug
Tiled toilets
Tiled toilets
With a new-fangled sloping
Stainless steel piss pan
With blocks in it to aim at
Roaring fire
Roaring fire
In the grate that must have
Been cleared and re-set daily
Logs and coals from local men
Proper beer
Proper beer
Served by a man and woman that
Have served it for over forty year
We'll think about your 'jukebox' idea
Welcome in
Welcome in
They'll take the piss out of you
For the first ten years
Don't sit there, that's Franks Archived comments for Leopard Print Carpets Mikeverdi on 18-02-2013 Leopard Print Carpets I know this pub, it's the Queens Arms on the Barbican in Plymouth ! Brilliant . Mike
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Weefatfella on 18-02-2013 Leopard Print Carpets
Aye, English pubs are much better rigged out than Scottish 'Bothans.' The beer is crap though. Scottish ale and English pubs Good combination. ( not heavy or lager though) Light and Stout. Whisky though, need the whisky Aye, Whisky.
Weefatfella.
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Savvi on 18-02-2013 Leopard Print Carpets Ah when Pubs was Pubs and you could drink till 4 in the morning illegally, because the chief of police was playing Doms in the snug, Brilliant. S
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Nomenklatura on 19-02-2013 Leopard Print Carpets We've all been in one of these. Very good.Interesting format.
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Kat on 19-02-2013 Leopard Print Carpets Really enjoyed this... haha.
Kat
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Andrea on 19-02-2013 Leopard Print Carpets I know that pub - it's in the old Camden High St. π
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ValDohren on 19-02-2013 Leopard Print Carpets We had one like this in our village - they demolished it, and now its a housing estate (another) !! Enjoyed reading.
Val
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Mum Won The Pools (posted on: 08-02-13) Life's memories can help you through. They play with their offspring
As I did with mine
Distant from me now
Fruit never falls far from the tree
It just rolls away, as I did
I see the cycle repeat
A trait started at mothers' hip
Passed like a hereditary tick
A need to show we don't need
I'm alright, so will you be
Sometimes the hardest trick
Is just to leave them be
Then by the time they remember
They realise they don't need you
Consigned to a guilty memory
It's never too late to make amends
But it might be too early for him
I hope he can deal with
The demons of his parents
Better than I dealt with mine
I remember a time when mum won the pools
And we had a new colour telly
Then I look at a picture
Walking along a sunny street
Holding hands with a small boy at my side
Archived comments for Mum Won The Pools Mikeverdi on 09-02-2013 Mum Won The Pools Beautiful words, I loved it. Mike
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Bozzz on 09-02-2013 Mum Won The Pools Deft touches with your brushwork here. But you don't even give Mum a capital letter - ah well, as you say, that's life ! Lose one mark for cruelty to the aged..... great stuff otherwise....Bozzz
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Battleships In The Clouds (posted on: 08-02-13) (Sitting in a coastal conservatory after visiting Martin Creeds balloon art installation project at Tate, St Ives in summer 2011) They gather overhead
Line up to cruise inland
Like great grey battleships
Remember when you were young
Finding faces and shapes
Amongst those massive marshmallows
Time would stand still for an afternoon
As the cowboys and Indians of youth
Drifted across our child's minds eye
Over time thoughts get clouded
By things not known as children
No string left to ravel ourselves up in
Yesterday we played amongst Tate's balloons
Today there are battleships in the clouds
Archived comments for Battleships In The Clouds Mikeverdi on 08-02-2013 Battleships In The Clouds Ah! St Ives. Nice touch with this one Steve. Mike
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Some Wonderful Treats (posted on: 04-02-13) Just a bit of fun. There are places in this world
That help me to write,
The corner of the Hollybush, as was
The streets, alleyways and beaches of St Ives
And I'm pretty sure that artists feel
This way about locations in their life
It must be lovely to be poet in residence
Somewhere with a poetic history, I'm
Sure it's something I strive towards
Not sure I could give it the gravitas
It deserves, but if Mojacar comes up
I'll give it a go!
Just a white-walled Spanish village on
The Costa d'Almeria, for two of us
It became heaven on earth in the
Early noughties, family holiday, followed
By honeymoon, just a perfect idyll
South of France this year
She finds some wonderful treats
Archived comments for Some Wonderful Treats bo_duke99 on 04-02-2013 Some Wonderful Treats free wheeling
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Savvi on 06-02-2013 Some Wonderful Treats wonderful treats indeed, my kind of treats. S
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Once (posted on: 25-01-13) A time gone by. Are you that same boy that I knew?
Years gone by, dancing to a different tune
That takes me back, to a whole old world
Skipping, I'm sure I used to skip
Over to the fields, our own Greenham common
No tents, wives or mums, just grass
And the wondrous woods
No worries about when to be home alone,
without an adult, keys in the door
no worry about burgling, stealing
friends close at hand to belay the threat
Remember the football on the field, me
Smithy and Dom, tops against skins
close to the door for when she called
Have you stood and looked at that door since then
All gone now, far away from where we were,
different being your own man, for once
A thought provoking stereotype, maybe
Just a bloke, trying to remember
the lad inside, the innocence Archived comments for Once Weefatfella on 25-01-2013 Once
Aye. It all gets lost in the mists of time, but sometimes the wind blows an opening and we glimpse again that front door. Made me think.
Thanks for sharing I enjoyed this piece.
Weefatfella.
Author's Reply: Just a thought eh? Nemo on 25-01-2013 Once Hi Savalot,
You're doing the old days too - we can't help it - your childhood environment sounds like fun, expressed with great clarity with a wistful sense of a change in later times. Good line 'Have you looked at that door since ...' I have, on google. Not an enjoyable experience. Hard to rate a poem, need to see a few 10's and work from there. Very subjective, what?
Author's Reply: Hi nemo, are we the same two over from forward? hope so. barenib on 25-01-2013 Once A good narrative drives this poem and makes me feel like I'm skipping through the nostalgia with you, and then we are brought to a reflective halt which nicely concludes the piece - John.
Author's Reply: Thank you for your comments. Andrea on 26-01-2013 Once Ahhh, lovely - those were the days, eh?
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Mikeverdi on 26-01-2013 Once Terrific write, one of your best for me. Mike
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Texasgreg on 27-01-2013 Once Aye! I try to let him out for playtime as often as possible.
Good write!
Greg π
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ValDohren on 27-01-2013 Once Memories of youth, we all go there as we get older. Very well written Savalot.
Val
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So that Mr Owen knows (posted on: 21-01-13) A poem about the futility of war nearly 100 years on. The bombs still crump, or blossom now
No longer the boche, older enemies even
We've moved on from 'tommies'
But the futility is still the same
No chance of a 'peg' these days
Thoughts of it welcome in this dryness
Decorum is as decorum does,
It's certainly not sweet, any more than it was
The tactics have changed
Going out on our daily patrols
Likened to going over the top
We hope, like you, the enemy sleep
Our weapons have progressed
Wouldn't you know it
But the drills are still the same
GAS! GAS! GAS! - nine seconds to death
Not a full on conflict
They call it peace-keeping
My life expectancy greater than yours
But dreams recall our choking horrors
('peg' - usually brandy and soda water) Archived comments for So that Mr Owen knows Corin on 21-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows This sounds as if you have had experience of Afghanistan, but you are right about the parallels and the ironies of the 'War to end Wars'.
What is planned I wonder for August 4th 2014?
Dave
Author's Reply: I was in the Army from '82 to '97, still keep in touch with a few old buddies. Thank you for your comment. Weefatfella on 21-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows
I have friends and friends sons over in Iraq.
The sooner the boys and girls are home the better.
Thank you for sharing this.
Weefatfella
Author's Reply: Thank you for your comments. franciman on 21-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows Our leaders tell us that our young men and women are fully committed to the struggle. They paint a picture of our forces being convinced of the rectitude of what they are doing. If true, therein lies the difference with the Great War. Your very fine piece paints an effective counter-balance to such crude propaganda.
In all regards you are carrying on the very necessary work of the War poets. A fitting tribute to Owen. BZ.
cheers,
Jim
Author's Reply: Thank you for your comments. royrodel on 21-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows You're fighting a losing battle, because if you want to be
like the folks on the hill, then just, do as you've always done,
go with the flow. We the British have just declared war on Africa, well they'll call it war, it'll be a genocide but they'll call it war
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Texasgreg on 22-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows Aye! The difference between victor and conquered is merely frame of mind. While I detest things people do to each other in the name of God, one cannot intervene successfully in such a situation. Their people must stand up together and say βEnough!β.
Greg π
.
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Mikeverdi on 22-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows This is a great write Steve, thanks for posting it here. Mike
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Andrea on 22-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows An excellent write, Savalot.
Author's Reply: Thank you for your comment. Ionicus on 22-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows It isn't the first time that these sentiments have been expressed but does anybody listen? Not on your nelly.
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Savvi on 23-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows I like your stance within the poem, countering current techniques always ending with the same conclusion, futility. Thanks for sharing. S
Author's Reply: Thank you for your comments. stormwolf on 23-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows Welcome to UKA π
Super poem. congrats on the nib and nom.
When will people wake up to the manipulation? Not in time I fear.
Alison x
Author's Reply: Thank you for your comments. butters on 23-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows we hope, like you, the enemy sleep
GAS! GAS! GAS! - nine seconds to death
But dreams recall our choking horrors
these are lines that steal the heart.
I'll go out on a limb here, Savvi, and say the rest isn't as strong as you could make it, poetically; V's 1&2 are constructed better (imo) than what follows, and a little restructuring/elbow-grease would make this shine above and beyond the concept into which we all, as readers, can buy. I'd also question 'then' at the end of L8.
enjoyed the references to Owen's own piece.
what sorrow would Owen experience, knowing so little's changed? the war to end all wars - such a misnomer.
Author's Reply: Thank you for your constructive words, I'll look into a few tweaks over the next few days, I agree about 'then'. Savalot on 31-01-2013 So that Mr Owen knows This was modified on 31/01/2013. I think it just got a little bit tighter. Hope you do too.
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I speak to her each day (posted on: 30-11-12) Emotion I speak to her each day
When we are apart through work
I phone her on the slightest pretence
That I have something to tell her
But really it's just to hear her voice
To know that she is okay, safe
It's my biggest fear she won't answer
That I'll never hear her voice again
Her essence won't be there
The house will be empty and lonely
I never tell her how much I worry
Don't express my fears to her
Wouldn't want to scare her
Wouldn't want to scare me Archived comments for I speak to her each day Bozzz on 01-12-2012 I speak to her each day Hi Savalot, This is pain, I have been married for 60 years and still have the same feeling. Simple and well-worded...Bozzz.
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butters on 02-12-2012 I speak to her each day that last line is so telling.
love can make us needy, for fear of losing what we have.
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Not DressedFor Travel (posted on: 30-11-12) Winter's nearly here I spent autumn watching
As each leaf left the tree
Eulogising each leafy suicide
As the tree watched me
It became naked, bare
Stripped of its magnificent crown
I was hunted by its shadow
Tree alone, on the edge of town
If only the trees could move
To where they could be together
Would they let us in?
Or be enclosed from us forever
Tree is bare now
I watched his clothes unravel
He'll not move this year
He's not dressed for travel Archived comments for Not DressedFor Travel Nomenklatura on 30-11-2012 Not DressedFor Travel Ha, splendid.
Do you need another comma
"Tree, alone, on the edge of town"?
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Mikeverdi on 30-11-2012 Not DressedFor Travel Brilliant!! I love it Steve. Mike
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Ionicus on 01-12-2012 Not DressedFor Travel A clever poem. Well done on the 'nib'.
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butters on 01-12-2012 Not DressedFor Travel hello π
your final four lines hit the best notes for me of a piece that works well as a straight read and as a metaphor for people as we age.
I wondered what your purpose was in choosing to stray from the humanising of the tree (as set up in V1 and consolidated in V4), moving from assigning a persona on to calling the tree 'it'?
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Bozzz on 01-12-2012 Not DressedFor Travel For me the poem and its story stand well alone and free from any allegorical sense. I read it loved it for its simplicity and flow..... Bozzz.
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cooky on 01-12-2012 Not DressedFor Travel lovely write.Normally I hate Autumn poetry because the poet always commits suicide by describing the colours of the leaves. This infuriates me. I am glad to say your poem is different and is very good. I like this.
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Texasgreg on 02-12-2012 Not DressedFor Travel I was hunted by its shadow
Just wondering...for some reason, I was wanting to say haunted in my mind in lieu of hunted.
Congrats on the nib!
Greg π
.
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franciman on 02-12-2012 Not DressedFor Travel I really like the structure of this. The story is compelling, and complete, and accomplished with real economy.
One of my best reads this autumn.
cheers,
Jim
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The Silence of Snowfall (posted on: 19-11-12) Families & Emotions. (i)
Snowflakes falling through
Trees at dawn
Jack Frost marching in
Youth marching out
Winters icy claws
Nature's seasonal menopause
Drifts move like icebergs
Heavily laden branches
Turning to inside
Warming toes
In the hearth's glow
Stockings hang waiting
Rosy cheeked faces
All sledged out
Sleeping fitfully
Awaiting sleigh bells
All will be fine
Outside tracks obliterated
Back to white, anew
In the Silence of Snowfall
(ii)
Snowfall, even, crisp
Cleansing the soul
With its arrival
Its purity
Whiteness
Canvas white
Unlined, unblemished, uncluttered
Father by father and son
Smiling and laughing
An age hard remembered
Hillside to fireside
Sledge to snug
White faced pastiness
To rosy glowing joy
Sat amongst the men
Canvas white shirt
Black jacket, tie and trousers
Whether sliding doors
Or earthbound abyss
No more laughing today
(iii)
Today we faced our world
Me, her, our family
Grabbed scarves and gloves
Hats,'waterproof' coats
Sledges long hidden in sheds
Trekking to the top of the hill
Whooping and whooshing back down
In that moment free, finally
Of all ties and worries
Fears and bad memories
Free of sadness and loss
Infused with joy and happiness
Layering new memories
Blocking the old and sour tasting
Things not needed anymore
Snow, the great cleanser
White that fills the darkness
I walk amongst the snowflakes
Falling through trees at dawn
The Silence of Snowfall
Archived comments for The Silence of Snowfall orangedream on 19-11-2012 The Silence of Snowfall I just love snow, and this poem made me very impatient for it. Enjoyed - very much;-)
Tina
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Mikeverdi on 19-11-2012 The Silence of Snowfall I loved this the first time I read it; I love it more now the second time. Mike
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Andrea on 20-11-2012 The Silence of Snowfall Reminds me of a Christmas card! Very happy and cheerful!
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Did you ever go conkering Dad? (posted on: 16-11-12) Memories handed down. Just over the road from where Nan lives
Through a couple of rough talking alleys
Out onto the common fields and swings
Into the forests beyond
That's where we'd go conkering
There were lots more then
Up to your knees in them we were
No need to throw a stick up
They all fell off on the same day
Every year without fail
Bring 'em home to show Nan
She'd bake a few and pickle a few
Give us a head start in the playground
Until Jonesy got his dad to drill a hole
In a small pebble he'd painted brown
Archived comments for Did you ever go conkering Dad? butters on 16-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? wonderful!
crammed with sights and sounds and smells, home-grown stuff of our early years - all topped off with that neat little twist at the end making (i would almost guarantee it) anyone who'd ever played conkers as a kid wince.
nicely done
and yes, i did notice the clever use of sound throughout tying this together cohesively without use of more obvious end-rhymes.
Author's Reply:
roger303 on 17-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? Very good IMO.
Love the rough talking alleys.
You had to be quick to get them off the ground around our way!
How did Jonesy get busted?
Roger.
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Andrea on 17-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? Love it! Used to go conkering in Regents Park as a kid. Pickled 'em too. Bloody Jonesy deserves a clip round the ear!
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orangedream on 17-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? I used to get mine in the grounds of Alexandra Palace...conkers, that is;-)
Much enjoyed your poem.
Tina
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ValDohren on 17-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? Those were the days - do kids still do it ? My daughter did, but she's 34 now. They probably do it online these days !! Lovely little write.
Val
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Andrea on 17-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? You have to wear a protective helmet these days Val, by all accounts - bloody rubbish!
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Bozzz on 17-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? And that, my friends, is how the armaments industry began. Great poem. .. Bozzz
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Mikeverdi on 19-11-2012 Did you ever go conkering Dad? Fantastic writing and well worth the nib my friend. Mike
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Attenborough Would Understand (posted on: 16-11-12) 60 Years of nature programmes, I'm sure he'd get it. I usually sleep through
Until the 4 a.m. break
Scenting the porcelain bowl
I heard two noises
One relatively close
A fox bark on the nearby car park
One in the near distance
An owl hooting in the woods beyond
No security light came on
As I stood buck naked in the kitchen
Searching out any movement
Standing with arms akimbo
Like a giant silverback surveying his territory
Daring anything to set my halogen alight
That's when I felt a noise
Gently thrumming
Through the floorboards
She was snoring contentedly
I could lollop my way
Up the ex-tree trunk
To the matrimonial leaf pit
Of freshly washed linen
I'm sure that I awoke
With my thumb in my mouth
Archived comments for Attenborough Would Understand japanesewind on 16-11-2012 Attenborough Would Understand Standing with arms akimbo
Like a giant silverback surveying his territory
Daring anything to set my halogen alight
hahaha....great that...David
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Andrea on 17-11-2012 Attenborough Would Understand What a wonderful chap he is, that Attenborough. Nice π
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ValDohren on 18-11-2012 Attenborough Would Understand Love my nature programmes - very funny write.
Val
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Old Sunday In The Pub (posted on: 12-11-12) Memories of a time gone by. Cold with no patrons, no matrons
Those golden old brasses, who would
Let you touch their stockinged leg
Whilst they drank a glass of gold label, just before
The old man clipped you behind the ear
Your cheeky ear, obviously
No more this is my niece, just visiting
Dad's gone away, if you know what I mean
Niece had trouble written all over her
But you had to have a go
Try to get her to take her gum out
And suck her tongue, fumble her tits
The young mum whose husband was away
Spelled danger to the other women
They could smell it on her
So could the dads, she never had
An empty glass in front of her
Or a stray mongrel far behind her
It's all been boarded up
Since I've been away
Not been a bad lad
Joined up for a lifetime
Found my life had changed
Some memories are better framed
Archived comments for Old Sunday In The Pub Mikeverdi on 12-11-2012 Old Sunday In The Pub Excellent, I like this a lot. Mike
Author's Reply: Thanks Mike. Andrea on 12-11-2012 Old Sunday In The Pub Yes, I liked it too. Such a shame that the old English boozer seems to be disappearing rapidly. I remember (and frequented) pubs like that π
Only thing I'd suggest, for easier reading and clarity, is to ditch the capitals at the beginning of every sentence thus (perhaps):
Cold with no patrons, no matrons.
Those golden old brasses, who would
let you touch their stockinged leg
whilst they drank a glass of gold label, just before
the old man clipped you behind the ear.
Your cheeky ear, obviously.
Just a thought, and welcome to UKA!
Author's Reply: Thanks for that Andrea, I can see what you mean, I will probably re-write should I publish elsewhere. Kind regards. Ionicus on 14-11-2012 Old Sunday In The Pub Yes, the traditional English pubs of yesteryear have become wine bars or have been demolished. The atmosphere that was typical of these establishments is just a distant memory.
The line "The young mum who's husband was away" contains a typo: it should be 'whose'.
Author's Reply: Thank you Ionicus, error seen and amended. Regards, S.
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