Kumbuka - Stephen A. Roberts

Image: Paignton Zoo

Kumbuka stares out with an angry demeanour
The ape in there - eyes the ape sans hair
From his Gorilla Kingdom secure enclosure
Is "Kingdom" really the right word there?

Giant, agitated, western lowland gorilla
Cannot be tamed by treats and cakes
He goes wild, turns psycho killer
Smashes the glass, that's all it takes

He just wants to be one of us
So in a human-style temper tantrum
He busts out - to cause a fuss
And escape his violated inner sanctum

Bored with all the pointing and peeking
He's finally grown tired of looking back;
and now the human chimps run yelling and shrieking
From the massive male silverback

To restore him to his voyeur prison
They shot him with a dart and fed him a muffin
In an interview on daytime television
he signed "I just got fed up - it was nothing"

Stephen A. Roberts

Walter Le Page, L'homme des Pignons - Bryony de Lat

At the Model Yacht Pond, he's feeding the pigeons
never on Sunday, though, he's to church
they climb all over him, pecking the seed
sometimes, even on his head, they perch

Bryony de Lat

Boots 1916 - Trudie Shannon

My boots are invisible.
I cannot see where my torso ends and my thighs begin.
I cannot see my trouser legs, or my legs within
I am become a shapeless form encased in cloying mud.
I cannot feel the cloth that clothes my skin.
I cannot feel the skin beneath the cloth
I cannot feel a bloody thing.
My boots are invisible.
And the gun in my hands is slick with blood,
My blood and bloody rain.
And I cannot see where my torso ends and my thighs begin
I cannot see ought but this sea of mud
And its tide of body parts.
And it’s so quiet, so deathly quiet.
My boots are become invisible roots
And the bloom of my youth a poppy.

Trudie Shannon

Turn It Around - Lester Queripel

Poor levels of communication.
Lack of cooperation.
Resulting in frustration.
Put it in the boiling pot.
Boil it up.
Turn frustration into energy.
Set it free.

Turn it upside down.
Turn it all around.
Don’t let them drag you down.
Don’t let them knock you to the ground.
Transform all the negativity.
Turn frustration into energy.
Set it free.

Lester Queripel

World Watching - Diane Scantlebury

Watching the world pass by my window
Some march fast,
Some walk very slow,
Up and down the challenging incline
To reach the places they need to go,

Some pause briefly in the doorway
To catch their breath,
Or to have a smoke,
Some faces sad, others expressionless,
Some laughing at an unheard joke,

Through the frosted one way glass
Upon their lives I can surreptitiously spy,
Captured in full colour,
For a fleeting moment,
The to and fro world that passes me by.

Diane Scantlebury

Samantha Barks . . . (there is a Heaven.) - Tony Bradley

She illuminates the stage, the TV, and my little world
such divine beauty, I'm sure I've pictured, since the day of my birth
never ever such passion, such talent, in one being
nor ever such loveliness, graced this Earth.

Tony Bradley

Cold Horses - Richard Fleming

Cold horses, in the field, forlorn,
are statues, stark, in pale half light.
Tethered beside bucket and hay,
they have endured a winter’s night
and must now face an icy day.
A half-moon lingers. This grey dawn,

diamond dew sparkles on their
mighty shoulders. They exist free
of man’s presentiment of death:
theirs is a careless reverie.
Life challenges: they acquiesce.
Rain, wind, ice, sun: they do not care.

Their gentle eyes meet my concern,
by the stone wall that separates
man from beast. I come with apple,
stand, wait. What differentiates
beast in field from man in chapel?
What do they know, that I must learn?

Richard Fleming

This poem first appeared in The Man Who Landed, as part of A GUERNSEY DOUBLE, a joint collection with poet, Peter Kenny.

For further details and availability of this book please go to http://redhandwriter.blogspot.com

Painting Words - Julian Clarke

Take your angry words
toss them to the sky
hear them jingle and jangle
breathe a hefty sigh;

on an artist's palette
land with a clatter
watching them mix in rainbows
hues all a splatter,

dip a fine sable
lilac is my cue
colours leap out from my heart
painting, I love you.

Julian Clarke

Poetry Not In Motion - Sara Kreckler

I sat down but I couldn't think
So I washed the dishes in the sink
One plate and one saucer
Then I thought of Chaucer
Also William Shakespeare
And whatshisname
But nothing came

I suddenly thought of something to do
Mix all the words together like a stew
Chaucer became saucer
Shakespeare became disappear
To be or not to be?
Now where have I heard that?
I'd get on my bike but the tyres are flat
Oh well......I guess I'd better eat my hat!

Sara Kreckler

Blog Archive