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Poetry

Poem: Small Pleasures To Be Had.

Small Pleasures To Be Had. . . The high point of the day Is toast and Marmite Cut into little fingers, And then there’s the postman, Bringing the promise of a letter, Or something unexpected. . .

Poem: Friend.

Friend. . . Each time I take a walk Along by the river It is a pleasure. Though not so much the water, The hanging trees, Or pillowed grass, As much as it is The large and purry cat Who lies in the dust of pink flowers, Waiting to greet me. . .

Poem: Sex.

Sex. . They made love before he left, And she curled up later Replete with the promise of it, After he got back home He hurried round to the pub To watch the footie match on Sky. . .

Poem: Hospital Waiting Roon.

Hospital Waiting Room. . . Sitting here on the ward, Watching the waiting patients Closing one eye To enable them To test out the sight in the other. A background of murmuring From the intense couples, Some with their own partner, Others making friends while they wait. The only thing that’s certain Is that I […]

Poem. Geordie Dialect: Me Mutha’s Deed Man.

Me  Mutha’s  Deed Man. – Nowt’s green roond heah It’s alle bluddy concrete Bluddy beach is gone Nowt but a crappy auld seat. Me Mutha’s deed man, Aye, ahm bluddy glad, Wi alle these changes Shid tek it bad. Shi luvved them trees doon bie the ‘Lark’ Coonsills buggered off hinny Wi wor bluddy park, […]

Poem: Facadism.

Facadism. . You are an unknown country, One where badlands And poisoned wells Are possible Behind the hoardings Of your pretty papered face . .

Poem: Change Of Plan.

Change Of Plan. . I liked it today When you called unexpectedly And then apologised For interrupting me. It didn’t matter that I had made plans Because nothing could Have pleased me more Or suited me better Than the way it all worked out . .

Poem: Rock The day.

Rock The Day . . I love a sudden trip out. Just a quick change of shoes, A swift wee, and a bit of lippy, Then I’m ready to go out and party. . .

Poem: Splendour.

Splendour. . How beautiful To see the weight Of heavy white blossom That lowers the bearing bough In wondrous submission . .

Poem: The Bay By Tynemouth Priory.

The Bay By Tynemouth Priory. . Children, pecking At the edge of the sea Like waterbirds, In streams of diamonds Pulling back under waves That smooth the sands, Rushing forwards to inundate Old concrete steps Inlaid with stones Like glistening scarab beetles . .