Archive for modern poetry

The Dumb Down

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 8, 2020 by dc

After the PR sound-bites
Had bled their way
Into the listener’s skulls,

Just before the new single
From a clean shaven Mormon from Utah

And half an hour prior
To the scripted kisses and press shots,

We found out it’s been
The perfect week to eat seafood
On the promenade in Whitby

And that coffee after 4pm
Can lead to a sleepless night,

Rock music has a time and a place,
Skinny jeans are uncomfortable

And bananas are the perfect
Breakfast on the go;

Then a serious moment,

It’s abundantly clear that
We all want what’s best for anyone
Who believes in making things better,

There are no instant solutions
But there are a wide range of options
Right across the board,

And the fact of the matter is
•It’s going to take time
To truly examine and gauge

•The dire situation we all inherited
From the previous administration.

Let’s be absolutely open and honest
The message is very clear and simple

•There are no easy answers,

We want to clamp down on violence
And make our streets safe again,

We want to create opportunity
And improve the lives
Of millions of people,

We want to see this nation thrive,

But it’s really,
Really hard.

That Déjà Vu Residue

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 29, 2020 by dc

No one knows,

No one cares,

No one’s underneath your stairs

And no one’s in your kitchen either,

It’s time you took a breather;

It’s time to take things down

A notch or two,

It’s time to wipe away

That déjà vu residue.

All Of A Quiver

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 20, 2020 by dc

There’s a tiny muscle
In my right thigh
Twitching,

It wants to take
The whole leg
With it,

Like a cult leader
Humming his mantra,

Wild eyed,
All of a quiver,

A politician
Electioneering,

An outstretched hand
Of frenzied hope,

A budding influencer,
A distraction,

Another flashlight
In the dark,

A spark that
Dreams of flames,

I sing and then
Pfft.

The Lick

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on January 25, 2020 by dc

In the garden
Where the singing starts,

Sipping ginger gin
From a porcelain tea cup,

Talking to the weekend,

Soaking it up.

Blue tits dance
On the graves of dead pets,
Chirping skits like broken toys,

Noises drift then collect,

The chattering mayhem
Of scattershot school kids,

The curdled melody
Of a downbeat ice cream van
Trundling into Autumn,

And the cliched repertoires
Of the local cranks and toddlers

Assemble to swoop then ferment;

There are bats as dusk leaks,
The air is ripe with mischief,

I was nothing when I came here,
Now the lick is bittersweet.

A Coded Song

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 19, 2020 by dc

Huddled tight,
Then star shaped,

A muddled murmur
From the bird’s nest,

A coded song;

I roll back and settle,

A hot breath
Of thankfulness

Amidst the shifts
Of contentment and zeal,

The warm pop
Of a softened nebula,

A regular melody pulsating
Lightly and lustrous,

I drift off and gleam.

Tickled

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 18, 2020 by dc

It slinks across the viaduct,
An index finger
Caressing the shoulders,

A tram’s trimmed shadow
And the window framed
Quiver of a cityscape,

A lamp light dawn,
A siskin flutters,
A golden coin turned sepia,

The countryside rolls,
The field mice scurry,
A giggle echoes, arches quake,

And then the world stands still.

Clues

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on January 2, 2020 by dc

Watch as clarity melts
In the ballads of the sighing,

In these gossamer reflections
Brewed up in reveries,

Voices lost to empty space,
Opalescent shimmers,

Like translucent winter breaths
Or phosphorescence in a swamp,

Milking frequencies
From thin air,

Off-white in the sky,
Blinking as clouds drift,

Pocked with cavernous holes,
Letting murmurs breathe,

The sounds of old trains
Creaking to life and the hum
Of a village now lost,

Simple loops and routines
Transmuted into wistful nostalgia,

Winter ghosts weaving
Their tales through the trees,

A knowing light
As the dusk shuffles in,

Fragile pleasures
Warm as clues to the ear.