religion shits openly
on everything….but
there is always somebody
strolling behind the ass
(dear God for thy name)
scooping up to feed
their dear little vegetable patch,
their not quite fertile
vegetable brain.
Vic Gamble
The Earth Is Crying - Lester Queripel
Can you feel the earth crying?
Can you see it dying?
Can you hear nature's plea….....for help?
Society’s greed
The rush to feed
The stomach is already bloated
It has got to stop!
The earth has had enough
There is no time to listen to excuses my friends
Time is running out
So fight for your right to be protected
By the politicians that you, the people, have elected
Lester Queripel
Can you see it dying?
Can you hear nature's plea….....for help?
Society’s greed
The rush to feed
The stomach is already bloated
It has got to stop!
The earth has had enough
There is no time to listen to excuses my friends
Time is running out
So fight for your right to be protected
By the politicians that you, the people, have elected
Lester Queripel
Apocalypse - Richard Fleming
The Fall-Out Shelter queue winds on
and slowly on, then out of sight.
We clutch our tickets, move along:
in twos, a crocodile, polite;
a flock, a never-ending throng,
bent-shouldered, stricken, pale and drawn.
All but our clothes and one small bag,
is lost, abandoned any how.
The future is relinquished too:
we live in the rude present now.
We leave behind all that we knew:
possessions, symbols, honour, flag.
The soldiers, at the Shelter gate,
are brusque beneath the moving lens
of cameras that seem alive.
We enter, gather in our pens,
like bees within a buzzing hive,
to wait, survive and procreate.
Richard Fleming
and slowly on, then out of sight.
We clutch our tickets, move along:
in twos, a crocodile, polite;
a flock, a never-ending throng,
bent-shouldered, stricken, pale and drawn.
All but our clothes and one small bag,
is lost, abandoned any how.
The future is relinquished too:
we live in the rude present now.
We leave behind all that we knew:
possessions, symbols, honour, flag.
The soldiers, at the Shelter gate,
are brusque beneath the moving lens
of cameras that seem alive.
We enter, gather in our pens,
like bees within a buzzing hive,
to wait, survive and procreate.
Richard Fleming
All Because... - Janet
The plates moved.
The cups danced.
The saucers flew.
The bowls jumped.
The glasses rang.
The spoons rattled.
The vase rocked.
The doors banged.
The house shook.
The earth grumbled, all because
The plates moved.
Janet
The cups danced.
The saucers flew.
The bowls jumped.
The glasses rang.
The spoons rattled.
The vase rocked.
The doors banged.
The house shook.
The earth grumbled, all because
The plates moved.
Janet
Guernsey Poets is back!
Fellow poets,
The Guernsey Poets blog is back!
Please note that there have been some minor changes to the way the blog operates.
The submissions email address has changed to guernseypoets@gmail.com
A new ratings system has been introduced for the reader. Underneath each poem you will find a selection of feedback options. Feel free to tick whichever option matches your feeling about the poem.
Comments will no longer be accepted or published by the blog.
The Guernsey Poets blog is back!
Please note that there have been some minor changes to the way the blog operates.
The submissions email address has changed to guernseypoets@gmail.com
A new ratings system has been introduced for the reader. Underneath each poem you will find a selection of feedback options. Feel free to tick whichever option matches your feeling about the poem.
Comments will no longer be accepted or published by the blog.
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