Christmas Present

Social Slutaby

I’ve done it, I’ve even posted it!  I’ve finally managed to write a poem for the members section of Poetry News.  This is a quarterly news paper which is produced by the The Poetry Society and is sent out with ‘Poetry Review’.  I have always meant to try and either not been inspired by their theme or not had the time.  What a great start to the New Year.  This time the theme is ‘Dangerous Sports’

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Social Slutaby

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Vamptastic eyelids flutter,

Lead them on without a thought.

They’re all the same, it’s just a game

Not doing what you ought.

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Let them massage your ego,

You’re not here to have and hold.

Work the room with your va va voom

Despite the band of gold.

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They swarm like bees ‘round honey.

Shackles rise, sharp eyes of green.

A quick retreat, elude the heat,

Move on, avoid a scene.

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I’m back…

Hello poetry lovers.  After a hugely barren poetical period I’m back.  I felt a little fed up with it all and I allowed life and Christmas to take over, but hey, it’s a New Year full of possibilities! (Sunday Scribblings think so too!)  The following is a poem I read for the first time back in November in ‘The Arty Types Show’ in Wigan.  I am also working on another poem that I want to finish in time for Write Out Loud in Bolton on Jan 17th.  Nothing like a deadline to get the creative juices flowing.  Ages ago I sent some poems into ‘Ambit’ for consideration and I’m still waiting to hear.  I wonder if they realise what hope people pin on their reply.  Perhaps no news is good news?

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This was written to be performed.  How well do you  think it reads on the page?

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I’m Death

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I’m death and I’m knock knock knocking at your door

Feel my touch

When you last said goodbye

Who’d think it would mean so much, so much.

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Are you enjoying that drink in your hand?

Could it be your last?

Let me see you to your car

I’ll get your home real fast.

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I’m the ice on the road

I’m the clot in your blood

I’m the train off the tracks

I’m the cause of the flood.

I’m the proud pavement slab

I’m the gasping for breath

I’m not learning to swim

Yeah baby I’m death.

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I’m famine, tsunami, I’m earthquake, I’m fire

I’m the ember that lights the destructive bushfire.

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I’m death and I’m knock knock knocking at your door

You’re on my list

When you kissed your loved one

It was the last kiss, the last kiss.

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Trot along now for your fag outside

Honest I’ll leave you be

But feel that craving deep inside…

Yes, that’s me.

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I’m the pain in your chest

I’m the rabid dog bite

I’m the poorly wired house

I’m the bump in the night.

I’m the disease in your liver

I’m the lump in your breast,

I’m the rot in your lung

Yeah baby, I’m death.

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I’m the dead battery in your smoke detector

Sweet dreams my lovelies, I’m out to getchya.

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I’m the voice in your head that says jump, jump jump…

I’m your last rasping breath

It’s been very nice to meet you

Love and kisses, Death.

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Please comment!

I will be performing at ‘The Saturday Arty Types Show’ in Wigan

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I have been asked to perform at ‘The Saturday Arty Types Show‘ on Saturday 21st November.  I’m really looking forward to this event and am described in their listing as:

“Great poet, playful, sexual, yet serious and touching.”

You’re A Bad Man

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You’re a bad man

A great big bear of a bad man

My number one fan

But still a bad man

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You’re a quiet thinker

A brooding, sultry, quiet thinker

A bit of a drinker

But I like a thinker.

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Stop doing that.

You know what I mean

I can see your thoughts

And they’re none too clean

Because you’re a bad man

A great big bear of a bad man

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You’re broken goods

Self inflicted broken goods

You’re not out of the woods

My broken goods.

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You’re crushed inside

Bruised and hurt and crushed inside

There’s no where to hide

That you’re crushed inside

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I’ve told you once

I won’t say it again

I can see your thoughts

So weak are men

Especially when… you’re a bad man

A great big bear of a bad man.

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Still, I like having a fan.

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(I performed this poem at Write Out Loud in Wigan this November 2009)

New Poems on my ‘My Poetry’ page.

Click on my ‘My Poetry’ page to see my latest poems.

Look at this myth/poem:

This is certainly adventurous!

‘The Goblins Market’ is a long poem and definitely worth reading.  The author is unknown.  It’s about resisting temptation and sisterly love.  The longing for the fruit and pining away can only be compared with drug addiction.  The imagery at the end where the good sister tries to get some fruit for her sister who is wasting away is very brutal, even sexual!

Click here for ‘The Goblins Market’

 

What do you think?