Archive for british poetry

The Mourning Rain

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2019 by dc

Thunder calls,
The mourning rain,

Autumn sings
Its subtle pains,

Worries sink into the ground,
Dissipating drowning sounds,

A stream of thoughts running away,
The stale smells, a passageway,

Naive and oh so cavalier,
As shadows fall you disappear

Into your borrowed dreams,
Stitched together from smithereens,

Worn out t-shirts and happenings,
Your disregard for the finer things,

You’re happiest when you roam alone,
Gliding over the cobblestones,

Staring up at the great unknown
As all those memories that died

Rise high and hook their fingers in the sky
Like fire flies electrified.

Advertisements

Wolf Pack

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 3, 2019 by dc

The cluttered filth
Of ravaged gutters,

Rusting raw under
The loose stampede

Of this city’s
Stray wolf pack,

The bankers and
The business creeps,

The parasites
And lads for hire,

The rotten ivy on
Brutal grey towers,

The monolithic monuments

That no-one can be arsed
To tear down,

Sickly smiling,

The littered rivers
Steady swelling,

Amidst the overwhelming forfeit
Of sacrificed justice,

Those tubthumping echoes,

A hindsight sat ripe,
All regret and insights

Into why we became.

It’s Called ‘Weekend Percussion’

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 27, 2019 by dc

Bring the weekend percussion,

Kids jumping into hedgerows,

The whine of hot tyres
And their whistles of smoke,

Drunk teenage girls
Rewriting pop songs,

Wired dogs growling
As the pub sucks its struts
From the street;

The lemon-eyed gallivants
And tropical fruit cakes,

The funk of kicked bins,

Widows jukebox reminiscing,
Divorcees house-training cats,

A hurly-burly fragmentation,
A ripped chaotic sound collage

Of pumping moxie thumps,
Skunk smells and all you love

If you came not wanting much.

The Laughing Fires

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 26, 2019 by dc

The laughing fires
And the trampled boxes,

Herculean lives
Built on stolen memoirs,

Ripe neglect
And a rustling breeze,

Freshly discarded
Pride,

The widowed clichés
Of addiction,

Fixations painted
On walls in the rain,

Tricks spent
In the gravel,

Puddles meeting
In shadows,

The veins of this city
Pulsing in flickers,

Bickering glooms
Spilling out.

An Oddity Dance

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 6, 2019 by dc

Those missing pieces
Hidden in pages
Once skimmed through,

Routines and the grind,

Succulent fruits tucked away
In the crags of the mind,

In the creases and folds.

A late night shock
Or sudden pop
Of live jigsawed beauty

Sliding into place,

Love’s grace magnified,
A mystery come to life,

An oddity dance,

A sweet serendipity

Crafted by chance.

Last Year’s Haircut

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 26, 2019 by dc

He leant in with last year’s haircut,
Kissed her digital image convincingly
And relaxed into his script;

Truth is he just mouthed things,
He didn’t even bother with stagecraft,
He just ruffled his hair and smiled,

There’s a simple truth in laziness,

Improvising shame and ruthlessness,
Unapologetic foolishness,
Stumbling around all ludicrous

In another person’s dream.

Powder Blue

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 23, 2019 by dc

Light cracks
And the stars
Glimmer through,

Motion fizzles
And skips,
Morning wonders.

Peripheries catch
Stippled specs
Distant dancing,

Odd sounds
Elongate
And smear echoes,

Reality pops,
Delusions quiver,
Balance rocks.

In a fading
Corner of the room
Beliefs recede,

Worries tingle,
As insomnia hovers
Like a gull lost at sea,

Weary mantras retreat
In serenity’s
Stolen shadows

And the dawn whispers
Clues powder blue,
As the sky catches breath.