Category Archives: New Poetry

Flowerpots for Africa by Pat Francis

A sunny English summer stirs up
a jumble of feelings now
in our revolving world
 
but the heart still expands
in the warm green of it
settles like a bee on lavender
when shadows sidle
across evening gardens,
we stroll our small terrain
pick up discarded plastic pots
we find under bushes
behind the dustbin.
 
Tomorrow we take them to
a charity that sells plants
to other comfortable gardeners
touched by guilt
at the easy way we help
children under and unflinching sun
who need a bowl of porridge
before they can sit and learn
from random books
we have donated
 
Food    books  flowers
old pleasures
new configuration
 
May they be blessed.
 
Pat Francis

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That Smile – Doig Simmonds

Oh!  See
Oh!  Beyond
Those shining eyes
Glancing.

Look and see
Gold hair halo
Softly warm
Flowing

Finger tips touching
Cool and loving
That smile giving
The welcome
Of living

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Counting Magpies – Martin Choules

One for nada,
Two for nowt,
Three for a shrug,
And four for a doubt,
Five for zero,
Six for oh,
Seven for knowing there’s nothing to know.

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Spring List – Nick Barth

Cherry blossom, check.
Book of verse, jug of wine, check.
Loaf of bread, thou, check.

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The Exhausted Poet – William Morton

The exhausted poet went to bed
and there she laid her sleepy head.
Rhyming tried she in repose
but none there came – just boring prose!
Half wakened by her snoring nose,
a rhyming couplet I suppose,
had tangled uvula and airway,
but to Parnassus came no stairway!


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Time, Ladies & Gents – Pat Francis

It’s Christmas time at Questors,
let’s have a glass of wine;
it can’t be eight already –
the readings will be fine.

It’s party time at Questors,
you’ll find us in the bar;
my sonnet’s nearly ready;
let’s have another jar.

It’s Christmas time at Questors,
let’s dive into the fray;
I forgot to bring my glasses;
let’s read another day.

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The Old Men – Alan Chambers

With red rimmed sunken eyes that leer
the old men sat and blew upon their wrinkled claws
like cold toads waiting under stones for summer.

A pretty miss
with heels a clack a click
and well upholstered grapefruit breasts,
caused those bleary eyes to flicker.

A wan regret, a thought of racier days,
a coarse remark and then a shiver.
The old men spat and turned for solace to the pub.

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