Category Archives: New Poetry

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

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under New Poetry

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under New Poetry

Spring List – Nick Barth

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

Leave a comment

Filed under New Poetry

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!


Leave a comment

Filed under New Poetry

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under New Poetry

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under New Poetry

Caution: Poet on Song – Pat Francis

You don’t care if you’re right you don’t care if you’re wrong,
you forget to be cool when you’re spinning along
swinging on words like a hammock.

You thunder and cry, you plunder and lie,
you bluster and roar an’ lose all decorum
your politics distasteful, your grammar disgraceful.

You don’t know what is real, you don’t know what is true,
you don’t know who is who, you don’t care how they feel,
you just kick up your heels and go

swinging, swinging,
swinging, swinging,
swinging on words like a hammock.

N.B. If we weren’t carefree poets we might say ‘swinging on words as if they were a hammock’ but who wants to say that?

 

Leave a comment

Filed under New Poetry, Poetry, Workshops