Poetry
NO EDITITING OR FANCY LAYOUT. WE GET THE POEMS, WE PUT THEM UP. THEREFORE SAVING AND RESPECTING THE VERY ESSENCE OF THE POETRY PRESENTED. YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR POETRY IN OUR COMMENT BOX. WE WILL READ IT AND THEN WE WILL POST IT UP FOR EVERYONE TO READ, ENJOY AND SHARE.
YOU CAN ALSO EMAIL IT DIRECT TO dean@artsaveslives.co.uk
PLEASE KEEP THEM COMING!
BY CATHARINE FLANNERY
Time
No ligHt of time my TrUth be lost
For I StAnd here in my VERSE and ShAke hanDs wITh TImE. NeVer LoSt.
HoPe tO moVE, to sEE.
MovEmet and to look back and KNOW that I am TiCKing ClOcks ElApse.
Written for Ed 30/12/2006
By Catharine Flannery.
I wrote this when I was 18, I had just had my heart broken for the first time. I was unemployed and thrown out of the house by my parents. I was lamenting on taking the Prozac I had just been given by the GP, and suicide.
A Very Simple Mind Trap.
Who created this?
Born to live, live to learn, learn to fight, or, be frightened.
Religion, poverty, education, get a job, get on your chosen treadmill, pay your taxes. Pat yourself on the back.
Born to live, life, learn to reproduce. Sit in your house, switch your TV on, who do you see?
Distorted contorted visions of disatisfaction. Be disortianted. No wonder I look yonder.
I slip, slide, view things from the side. I don’t want this.
Cut in half, sack the staff. Start again. See again, Make amends.
Believe in what you see and you’ll lose your sight, the fright. I’ve been there, be aware.
Here now, don’t listen to the cow. Eat up, don’t fall into the rutt. Be alarmed don’t fall for their charms. Into bed, and they’re in your head. Silly girl.
Do the dance and take a chance, leave the house don’t be a mouse.
Life doesn’t happen when you’re lying in bed, get real in your head. Hault! Leave the vault!
The medication is a sedation until you find the real meditation.
Pick up the camera and the pen,hen. Start again. Don’t reach for the rope, you know it’s a joke. Not the blades, you know what cascades. Don’t be afraid.
Live to learn, learn to fight, get up. Feel the sunlight against your face, you’re not a disgrace. Pick those pretty flowers, and feel their powers.
By Catharine Flannery.
asl by dean stalham
Wife died never cried
Sister Did I hid
but now I’ve been found,
gone to ground, unbound
Quiet town promised not to let
You down.
Rat race human race
Nothing slower than sun on your
Face, feel the sun, close your
Eyes, breathe in deep
Wait to die under a massive
Why!
Mum smiled, Uncle wild
Nan beguiled, bathroom tiled
Feels cold, eyes old, neck stretched
Feeling wretched, shit sketch
Tear it up, rip it up, rip it up and
Start again.
School plays, great days, kiddie ways, hooray, hooray
Hooray.
Who’s to blame for the
Lion tame, endless search for endless
Fame, shame pantomime dame,
Ugly sis, blistered fist pounded wall
Long fall, don’t worry one day you
Might grow tall, but as for now, wow!
Who knows, maybe you won’t grow?
Got to go!
Tiddly wink, wrap shrink,
Kitchen sink full of tea leaves brown
And dirty, full of ash and doggends
Unworthy.
Make the tea 22 mugs for
22 drinkers, sup, sup, sup, what’s up eh?
Mucky pup. Leave a note for Santa, put it
Behind the fire, situation dire, perhaps he’ll
Come perhaps he won’t, if you do or
You don’t, does it matter, smatter, gangs
Scatter, see you later, late mate garden gate,
No point, no weight.
As a cool west breeze
Blows across my sea, I think of you
Do you think of me and I think of all
That I have done, how I’ve wasted so
Much time on joviality and fun, and I
Think of now what I must do but my
My thoughts keep coming my thoughts
Keeps coming back to you. I will
Never let you down, I will never
Let you down again, I’m not
Leaving town, Dad’s frown
Flowered gown, dressing down.
Sin bin, tin tin, tin tack, poor Uncle Ian
Smack, whack no pushing that brain back jack.
Funny days, funny farms, tattooed arms
My lucky charms. One day I bent
Over plucked myself a four leaf clover,
Endless luck, was it fuck, useless quack
Quack duck!
Out for the count, no doubt
Ear hole clout, back hander round the head,
Early bed, leg red. Brother giggling, toes wiggling
Aunties haggling.
I ran round the block once,
Really fast I did, fastest kid or so I thought
Zero naught, never got caught.
Picked my wart
Upon my hand, I was once a lead singer in
A band. The killer sharks, what a lark!
One gig once stupid dunce thought it
Was the start of something big, just one off
Gig!
Slip shod, brickies hod, big dog unwiped
Big log, hog hog blog, I remember sweet shop
Black jack fruit salad Gary Glitter massive ballad,
Sad lad, gone bad, should have been more than
Happy with what he had, how sad leaky rad,
Quick spurt, taste the dirt Uncle Bert.
My Woman
She hasn’t gone away she lives here in
My heart, the drink, no it never took her
It never tore us apart, for we made love while
The storm it raged and I held her
In my arms, no the drink it never took
Her, she lives here in my heart.
Big gob, desk job Uncle Rob. Uncle Alan
Thinks he’s Callan, just a top cop in a
Strop. Uncle Peter?Now there’s another
Brother, loved a lover or two or three
Tee hee, hee haw, see saw. Swing in the
Park after dark, after eight, I’m sorry sir
That I’m late. ‘At the back you’re disrupting
The class you stupid arse! But I got him back I set
His sail, can’t tell you what I did end up
In jail.
Shoosh bush nice tush mush tickly beard
Something weird feel the fear costs dear.
Can’t hear. For the sake of trying
Crying, Friday night is the night for
Frying, Sunday drying, hanging out
To dry Grand Dads navy tie. Smoked Senior Service
He did 40 a day! He wasn’t gay.
Brain brain speeding train door whore
Go away, co-op man please come back another
Day. Leave us alone! You can’t phone no tone
Dog and bone. Tic tac jack frost.
One day in my
Silver cross a bumble bee invaded me stingzeeee.
In the middle of my big forehead, it must have bled?
No shit, no jargon but what a garden! Hedge
Forge Grand Pop George and nanny Daisy heard
Tell she hell she raisy, many lovers during war, COR!
Loved my piccies a chicken I drew, phew!
She said it was art sent it off to Tony Hart.
Never shown, blown, moan, everyday man,
Sham, sham, lost lamb Batman BLAAM!
My mate Sam opong he did me wrong
Sold me cheaper than a song, busted gong!
Long hair, hipster flare, kiss or dare, postmans knock,
Pretty frock, ankle socks, you run for fun
At the sound of the gun. First kiss bliss lemon
Drops, tip tops, flip flops, guitars made from mops.
Bruised battered shattered chips in paper ice cream wafer
Wafer thin next of kin sin bin.
My son loves fun, when I look into his eyes I see the sun, I
Feel the sun, then I run, beat my retreat, fast feet, no heat.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, blow, hot and cold, soul sold.
My wealth? Health and stealth, life its self,
my heart beat beat’s to keep my feet’s on the streets,
my lungs go in and out catching air,
even I wouldn’t want to catch my breath,
eye twitch, back itch, fingers scratch,
snatch a wink or two or three or four
can’t count no more, layer player
soothsayer tooth slayer, doctor,
doctor call a doctor spock ya?
In need of dentistry, set my gums free,
do one, do two never bothered
sniffing glue, do you, you hoo?
I got lost, no repost, gathered little moss,
life’s a doss but I wish it wasn’t.
One fond memory keeps me safe,
keeps me warm, keeps me strong,
makes me smile as wide as a mile,
only for a while, a short, short while,
Only myself to blame, lost the game, lost the plot,
did what I did got what I got, running nose snot, snot, snot,
dim sum, some din, big yin lost on train,
lost his brain searching for an obscure vein
end up slain, big ben, japs, yen, click click
camera lens, stale widge under bridge,
not great, irate crate, human freight,
ping pong sing a song.
I’m trying hard so hard in vain to ease my problems
to ease my pain cos I’m missing you, feeling lost,
lost in lifes maze walking around in a constant
daze cos im missing you, missing who?
Missing Mum, hum drum, half eaten yum yum,
full throttle hit the bottle end up running away to Gerry Cottle,
jubilation for the nation, free education,
no knowledge no college, no school, un cool,
less thrills on tall hills no apple pies on window sills,
love that cat, not the one in the hat, love that mouse,
rat rat no chance me getting fat, sound sound gissa pound?
Police charge, Geordie sarge, worst smell urine cell,
wino fight, endless night, tramp rape,
drawn drape, dumb dumb slum come.
Push ya rush ya diss ya Hare bloody Krishna,
ring ring, ding ding dong dong head gone,
beep beep beeps the train door weeps,
mobile phones, constant moans
tube way clones forever drones,
old town, dads a clown, un wound,
last night I dreamt of butter what a nutter….
blow a kiss hit or miss….if nothing else? Read this.
ART SAVES LIVES!.
By Froniga Rhodes
Ham Riverside
You’re resting easily on the towpath
Against the arms of your wheelchair
Head tilted back
Towards the sun
Flatteringly
In smooth laughter
But your eyes aren’t smiling
And neither is my stinging face
Reflected in your reactolite rapides
Poem 2
My Only Star
My only star
Unchanged still
From whichever
Continent seen
My companion
On silent roads
Clustered streets
Window peeking
When I stare up
Gazing, pie-eyed
You hypnotise
And dizzy me
Finally you
Blink, wink, flicker
Hide between clouds
Then guide me home.
Froniga Rhodes
BYFIONA SKINNER.
Hello – here are a couple of poems I’ve written from years ago. I’m hoping maybe
you’ll put on your website.
Art most definitely saves lives! x
A Job of No Relevance…
Money, Money, Money,
Where does it all go,
Work hard all your life for the minimum constant flow.
Tired, restless and bored -
A job where you don’t feel self assured.
Why has it become such a battle?
Humans are more like cattle -
pushed this way and then the next fitting in -’just do your best’
Why do your best when it’s not what you want? – Wishing you could spend all day at
the front doing what you like and telling the rest to take a hike.
Everyone’s just living a lie by doing an irrelevant job til they die.
Money, Money, Money – Just about getting by.
Poem 2 – Giving up
Enough’s enough
give it all up
except the rough.
The life you thought you would of had -
gone without a trace
wishing you were someone else -
part of the fighting human race.
Depression kicks in
problems hurt and before you know it – you’ve been kicked to the dirt.
Sad isn’t it when you can’t win.
The wind is blowing I wrap my coat up so tight,
As I enter into the dark stormy night.
I walk a litle quicker,trees and shadows making me jump,
My hearts racing I can hear it beating,thump,thump,thump.
I know that I shouldnt use the alley way,but I’ve done it before,
I’ll check its clear first,just to be sure.
Sod it it’s fine what can happen to me?,
You only see bad things at home on tv.
I can hear footsteps,I pick up my pace,
A hot nervous tear drips down my face.
I can hear voices,or is it the wind and the rain,
Oh god,I’m running I’m going insane.
Meanwhile around the corner Jons drunk his 8th pint of cider,
Despeate to impress his date and slide deep inside her.
He jumps in his car,and eager to please,
Donuts around the car park with such vivid ease.
The girl she giggles as he roars away,
Into the night,or so I should say.
Back to autumn,I’m blinded by tears,
I ve run down this alleyway a hundred times over the years.
She checks her watch its 5 minutes to 9,
She waits for the car,and stands on the line.
She steps from the pavement,just like before,
Waits for the impact,to get knocked to the floor.
The girl is screaming at Jon’ what have you done?’
Autumn lays on the floor,her work here is fun.
She gets to her feet and smooths down her coat,
Turns to Jon as if to gloat.
Then she walks to the wall,where flowers were once laid,
Moved by her mum,and placed on her grave.
And now all that remains is a worn old plaque.
Stating the untimely death of poor Autumn Black.
Autumn she smiles and walks off into the night.
Jon is too scared to move,he cowers in fright.
For Autumn,the things that mattered the most….
Dont matter at all now she’s a ghost.
So the moral of this story is dont drink and drive,
Cos you know what? Autumn might still be alive.
So one after work,with ya mates,and the gift of the gab????
GET ON YOUR PHONE AND CALL UP A CAB
THE END
Poem 2
A dark dismal cloud where the sun it once shone.
How do I feel? I just cant describe
I feel somewhat funny deep down inside!
Why do I cry? I just couldnt say,
I wouldnt want to hurt nor be in your way
Its not in my mind,I dont make this up
I shake so much I spill from my cup
I quite like pianos,I quite like the rain
I’m me you know,I’m not that insane!
I can’t help but worry,that its just me
I do worry about crimewatch and what I see on tv
I cant help but worry I feel so alone
My friends have disowned me they don’t even phone
I wish I had someone to listen to me
But all I have is the ocean,the deep swelling sea
So I’ll sit here and ponder,sit here and munch
Fish and chip supper is what i’ll have for my lunch
But I’ll sit here alone,a gull as my mate
No one to cuddle not even a date
A day at the seaside a nice rare old treat
I’m me,I’m fabulous I wont admit defeat!
In the celebrity of
Camera-shoots
And magazine covers
Bare breasted models
Inflate their lips with
The frantic cries of billboard messages
Thin but not quite waif enough
To dine with butterflies
The faceless strings of their hidden beauty
Sharpen scalpel-blades
As the plastic surgeon
Sturdy as a hungry penis makes an incision
And pours the wealth of stockbrokers
Into their teenage thighs
And as the secrets of their thongs
Peek out of hipster-trousers
Titillating monsters
The schoolyards of their innocent years
Throw dead skipping ropes
Into the tears of polluted riverbeds.
by Ronnie McGrath.
Faces in the crowd seem grey and sad, my love
I feel my heart beating in my chest
I sing against the traffic cannot hear my voice
I need to take a little rest.
Sitting on a bench I can smell your scent
I see the bright colours that are you
I guess I have to walk until the light is gone
It makes no sense no matter what I do
Take me by the hand I won’t shout at you
I am not as strong as you think I am
Will you wait for me until I reach where you have gone
I’ll take my time and learn what I can
Breathing in and out seems easy but it ain’t
Looking at the sky makes things seem bright
Holding my breath I close my eyes and think
It’s time to get the future back in sight
By Yoka Kuiper (AKA The Dutch Diva from The Little Devils)
‘IF YOU’RE EVER TEMPTED TO CALL A TRUCE’
Whatever you say it’s a sell-out
Whatever you do it’s a cop-out
Whatever you look like you’re a dropout
Whatever they give you grasp
With both hands & never let go!
JAZZMAN JOHN CLARKE (C)FEBRUARY 2010
’HIP HEAVEN’
There’s a cooking quartet in a cellar bar
booze smoke a guy on his own motionless
taking in the scene
a cold-eyed discerning nobody
a girl a looker loosening up the joint
bare walls pockets of heavy silence
intimate alcoves an unidentifiable odour
music embracing every corner
trumpet vibrato hiss of cymbal
long languorous solos digging bass
spirited runs and breaks arriving at dead ends
staccato spurts of sound slicing
through rainbow ribbons of light
drummer and tenor
sucking on the neck of a bottle
cuff brushing lips
picking up the sense of
nothing-in-particular going on
but knowing that wherever they are
the centre is here in Hip Heaven
where all roads are targeted
this common scenario
where no matter what the weather
is doing on the outside
those here on the inside are kicking up a storm
jumping those lights and laying down
the law in musical notes
trailing tantalizing rhythms
a world away from all that hostile drama
happening elswhere…
Dhofar Iraq…the vicissitudes of Amy Winehouse…
Afghanistan Palestine…you name it
JAZZMAN JOHN CLARKE (C) 2006
(From Collection:’GHOST ON THE ROAD’) www.tall-lighthouse.co.uk