A Rhyme For Halloween
A barking dog, somewhere nearby,
alerts us to strangers’ presence.
We draw curtains, secure both doors,
duck behind chairs, crouch on all-fours.
Such precautions make perfect sense.
We do not welcome those who pry.
We do not welcome those who pry.
People who stray within our fence
are made to stay to settle scores.
We bury them beneath the floors
like treasure. Then we burn incense
and pray and wait for them to die.
Richard Fleming
Laced With Arsenic - Vic Gamble
These old wasted women
behind the dapple of lacehole curtains
sucking in the gossip
with perfect pulse
of piranha …...
careful Eugene
you have been seen
canoodling,
Tom-foodling
and the hot wire is buzzing
from lace to lace
in the metal grindings
of their see-saw tongues.
They slipper shuffle,
like carrion birds on a dead rat,
each vein and artery decimated,
like rancid rats on the gangrene of garbage
each gnaw is anticipated,
but it is, after all,
their private over-excitable art
of self preservation.
These wasted old ladies
with no hope for a new & healing skin,
each one at their personal station of the cross,
unsure if their Jesus
knows of their worst
& sinful sin.
...and lace flutters, whilst they,
like a butterfly still trapped,
unfocused by its
fluttering vision,
inwardly watch their own weak strength
being sapped.
Vic Gamble
behind the dapple of lacehole curtains
sucking in the gossip
with perfect pulse
of piranha …...
careful Eugene
you have been seen
canoodling,
Tom-foodling
and the hot wire is buzzing
from lace to lace
in the metal grindings
of their see-saw tongues.
They slipper shuffle,
like carrion birds on a dead rat,
each vein and artery decimated,
like rancid rats on the gangrene of garbage
each gnaw is anticipated,
but it is, after all,
their private over-excitable art
of self preservation.
These wasted old ladies
with no hope for a new & healing skin,
each one at their personal station of the cross,
unsure if their Jesus
knows of their worst
& sinful sin.
...and lace flutters, whilst they,
like a butterfly still trapped,
unfocused by its
fluttering vision,
inwardly watch their own weak strength
being sapped.
Vic Gamble
Bad Taste - Lester Queripel
If you give bad taste an inch it will take a mile.
It will spread like a cancer through every new born child.
The same goes for apathy.
We don’t want it in our society.
Don’t allow it to be set free.
There’s a better future for you and me.
The same goes for bad language, it gets worse every day.
We have to get it under control it won’t just go away.
Standards have dropped to an all time low.
There’s no one else for them to go.
There’s far too much anger, there’s far too much aggression.
There’s far too much violence and too much information.
There’s a lack of responsibility and a lack of respect.
The reason of course is because of years of neglect.
It’s time to re-educate, rebuild and reclaim.
Before bad taste screams ‘victory’ and wins this awful game.
Let’s put bad taste in its rightful place.
We don’t want it upfront and in our face.
Let’s bury it six feet under the ground.
Then we wouldn’t have to have it around.
Lester Queripel
It will spread like a cancer through every new born child.
The same goes for apathy.
We don’t want it in our society.
Don’t allow it to be set free.
There’s a better future for you and me.
The same goes for bad language, it gets worse every day.
We have to get it under control it won’t just go away.
Standards have dropped to an all time low.
There’s no one else for them to go.
There’s far too much anger, there’s far too much aggression.
There’s far too much violence and too much information.
There’s a lack of responsibility and a lack of respect.
The reason of course is because of years of neglect.
It’s time to re-educate, rebuild and reclaim.
Before bad taste screams ‘victory’ and wins this awful game.
Let’s put bad taste in its rightful place.
We don’t want it upfront and in our face.
Let’s bury it six feet under the ground.
Then we wouldn’t have to have it around.
Lester Queripel
A Poet, Still? - Stephen A. Roberts
It has been announced
that
the former Poet Laureate, Sir Andrew Motion,
will be judging Guernsey's International Poetry Competition 2014 -
"Poems on the Move".
Sir Andrew Motion!
Poet Motion!
Poetry in motion!
How many times has he heard that pun,
the pun that launched a thousand rejection slips…
on so many different types of stationery:
Stationary - in Motion's hand.
Stephen A. Roberts
that
the former Poet Laureate, Sir Andrew Motion,
will be judging Guernsey's International Poetry Competition 2014 -
"Poems on the Move".
Sir Andrew Motion!
Poet Motion!
Poetry in motion!
How many times has he heard that pun,
the pun that launched a thousand rejection slips…
on so many different types of stationery:
Stationary - in Motion's hand.
Stephen A. Roberts
Crashed - Ian De La Mare
Like the surf of a wave it hit me,
I was so prepared to part,
Take stock and reflect upon ,
Our affair,
Longing,
Lost,
Love?
Connectednesss,
So intense,
Now gone,
As you cried,
My heart forward rolled,
The aftershock passed,
My old friend the cynic
Raised a cheery glass
To liberty and freedom?
Freedom to be lonely,
To please myself again,
But my first night without you,
In 504
Business class,
Quite by chance,
I fly away,
Again,
In more pain, than I can bear.
Ian De La Mare
I was so prepared to part,
Take stock and reflect upon ,
Our affair,
Longing,
Lost,
Love?
Connectednesss,
So intense,
Now gone,
As you cried,
My heart forward rolled,
The aftershock passed,
My old friend the cynic
Raised a cheery glass
To liberty and freedom?
Freedom to be lonely,
To please myself again,
But my first night without you,
In 504
Business class,
Quite by chance,
I fly away,
Again,
In more pain, than I can bear.
Ian De La Mare
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