Submissions by dartford (Paul S...)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
writing poetry doesn't make me a poet, who hasn't written poetry at some time or other...
4 A.M. AT DIGBETH
There is nothing I am keen to describe,
This coach station being just a station,
The smell of petrol simply an odour,
The drunk on the ground lacking metaphor.
This is no place to work on with big words.
Those three hard bastards over there are not
The kind to stare from curiousity,
They merely wish to inflict fear, or pain.
That woman, with lovely hair and faint lines
That crack her eyes like eggshells, is at risk,
Touched not by the excitment of waiting
To travel, but by verbal abuse from
That direction, over there by the...
This coach station being just a station,
The smell of petrol simply an odour,
The drunk on the ground lacking metaphor.
This is no place to work on with big words.
Those three hard bastards over there are not
The kind to stare from curiousity,
They merely wish to inflict fear, or pain.
That woman, with lovely hair and faint lines
That crack her eyes like eggshells, is at risk,
Touched not by the excitment of waiting
To travel, but by verbal abuse from
That direction, over there by the...
685 reads
5 Comments
?!
I don't
get it
he said
as she
gave it
to him
get it
he said
as she
gave it
to him
910 reads
3 Comments
Precis
I loved
she left
she left
803 reads
11 Comments
UNFINISHED
you text with, "loads of love"
and I reply, as above
but when we actually meet
it's all about what might
have been, quite
incomplete...
and I reply, as above
but when we actually meet
it's all about what might
have been, quite
incomplete...
737 reads
3 Comments
Why, I'll...
whiling away
the way
you do
wily
wily
you!
the way
you do
wily
wily
you!
666 reads
2 Comments
PUB
the bar writhes
like a jam jar filled
with dying wasps
in late summer
placed on
somebody's windowsill
to stop them going further
like a jam jar filled
with dying wasps
in late summer
placed on
somebody's windowsill
to stop them going further
949 reads
6 Comments
THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
everyone looks
so angry
so cross
I mentally
cross myself
cross over
the road
to avoid them
they who look
so cross
and I
who must
have annoyed
them
so angry
so cross
I mentally
cross myself
cross over
the road
to avoid them
they who look
so cross
and I
who must
have annoyed
them
726 reads
6 Comments
PARIS I LOVE YOU
sitting at a pavement table
of a Turkish cafe
near the Gare de L'est
I feel myself hunched
like a dishevelled pigeon
over lunch
the waiter asks
for our order
naturally in French
"parlez vous anglais?"
he enquires if we're dutch...
or possibly deutsch?
it doesn't matter much...
of a Turkish cafe
near the Gare de L'est
I feel myself hunched
like a dishevelled pigeon
over lunch
the waiter asks
for our order
naturally in French
"parlez vous anglais?"
he enquires if we're dutch...
or possibly deutsch?
it doesn't matter much...
701 reads
2 Comments
CITY CENTRE
sitting on a hot street,
pigeons seething and stumbling,
jerking and merging...
I sit and wonder at
their grey camouflage,
the very pavement
quaking, lurching, surging!
pigeons seething and stumbling,
jerking and merging...
I sit and wonder at
their grey camouflage,
the very pavement
quaking, lurching, surging!
750 reads
4 Comments
Invocation
I guess I see us as
two children playing in a garden
may wizards protect us
from all that will harden
two children playing in a garden
may wizards protect us
from all that will harden
656 reads
0 Comments
DAD
dad loved me I know
but saying so
would have been wrong
back then
like bursting into song
or showing affection
but saying so
would have been wrong
back then
like bursting into song
or showing affection
767 reads
3 Comments
IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES
I want
she went
she went
648 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by dartford (Paul S...)