Submissions by driversoft
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
A somewhat eclectic wordsmith, with tastes that encompass anything from the satirical to the erotic. I've always admired the power of the written and spoken word, and consequently love it throughout its many incarnations.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd May 2013 8:25pm
23rd May 2013 8:25pm
Bloody Muslims...
"Butchery" the tabloids scream "Pics!" - queasy.
"Allah hu akbar"'s heard across the 'net.
The "Bloody Muslims" subtext's all too easy
But those WE raise - and then, somehow, forget?
Denmark's "Anders Breivik" - the Far Right's
Not something with which we, perhaps, engage.
A Workers' Youth League camp - and Breivik's sights
Saw sixty-nine of us give up old age.
A drop-out neuroscientist - James Holmes
White, non-terrorist - with no surprises.
Where's Batman when grenade and pistol roams?
As...
"Allah hu akbar"'s heard across the 'net.
The "Bloody Muslims" subtext's all too easy
But those WE raise - and then, somehow, forget?
Denmark's "Anders Breivik" - the Far Right's
Not something with which we, perhaps, engage.
A Workers' Youth League camp - and Breivik's sights
Saw sixty-nine of us give up old age.
A drop-out neuroscientist - James Holmes
White, non-terrorist - with no surprises.
Where's Batman when grenade and pistol roams?
As...
514 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Mar 2013 00:32am
1st Mar 2013 00:32am
Sing a song of nonsense
Time for controversy? It is, after all, the poet's job to observe, and to raise questions - once again, here's a timely little something for Belfast:
Sing a song of nonsense;
A petrol bomb explodes.
Four and twenty 'flegsters'
Blocked up the roads.
When the highways opened
And 'chokey' was foreseen
Wasn't that a pile of pish
To blame it on a queen?
The DUP are sitting tight
Counting Mayoral votes.
Sinn Féin, on the sidelines;
Beelzebub, he gloats.
Alliance in the garden,
Being hung out to dry.
Forget petty...
Sing a song of nonsense;
A petrol bomb explodes.
Four and twenty 'flegsters'
Blocked up the roads.
When the highways opened
And 'chokey' was foreseen
Wasn't that a pile of pish
To blame it on a queen?
The DUP are sitting tight
Counting Mayoral votes.
Sinn Féin, on the sidelines;
Beelzebub, he gloats.
Alliance in the garden,
Being hung out to dry.
Forget petty...
575 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Jan 2013 10:10pm
28th Jan 2013 10:10pm
Flaggery Blaggery Dock...
Another attempt at documenting the ongoing scene here in Belfast - apologies to those who have no idea what is going on, or are simply not interested. It's as grist to the mill for a poet here.
I love my flag - I love it loads!
To prove it? Well, I block off roads -
Delay the traffic, cause a jam -
And throw my toys out of the pram.
Petrol bombs - long dormant wars -
Bring press attention to our cause.
A fillip, just like 'er old spouse,
Our glorious Queen, in old Buck' House.
I'm one of her subjects, loyal,
And ready for a 'battle...
I love my flag - I love it loads!
To prove it? Well, I block off roads -
Delay the traffic, cause a jam -
And throw my toys out of the pram.
Petrol bombs - long dormant wars -
Bring press attention to our cause.
A fillip, just like 'er old spouse,
Our glorious Queen, in old Buck' House.
I'm one of her subjects, loyal,
And ready for a 'battle...
498 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Dec 2012 10:41pm
5th Dec 2012 10:41pm
Living in a No Man's Wonderland
Again, something meaningful to Northern Ireland - and to my now home city, Belfast, in particular. Inspired by the recent mini-riots at the binding decision to display the Union flag at City Hall for a mere 18 'designated' days a year, as opposed to having a previously permanent display. Theresa Villiers is the UK government's current Secretary of State for Northern Ireland.
City Hall, thugs and looters
Vote is lost - What a hoot as
A beautiful sight
We're trashing tonight
Living in a No Man's Wonderland.
Gone away old 'obscene' ways.
Now...
City Hall, thugs and looters
Vote is lost - What a hoot as
A beautiful sight
We're trashing tonight
Living in a No Man's Wonderland.
Gone away old 'obscene' ways.
Now...
586 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Nov 2012 4:24pm
30th Nov 2012 4:24pm
To Be Perfectly Blunt
An observation, inspired by John Luke's art (a Belfast-born artist). The Blunt in the title refers not only to the rolling contours of much of Luke's tempera work, but also to Anthony Blunt, an infamous homosexual British art historian and Soviet spy. Whether Luke was similarly homosexual is conjecture on my part, but his art could be taken to indicate as such.
The undulating landscapes of the mind
Are a metaphor, perhaps, for Luke to find
The nature of existence in this life
Against an Ireland troubled, and in strife.
When society won't comfort all around, ...
The undulating landscapes of the mind
Are a metaphor, perhaps, for Luke to find
The nature of existence in this life
Against an Ireland troubled, and in strife.
When society won't comfort all around, ...
738 reads
6 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Nov 2012 6:05pm
28th Nov 2012 6:05pm
Funny Money
I lunched with my two friends the other day;
The bill arrived - we'd thirty pounds to pay.
Each of us paid an equal share - in cash.
Ten coins - times three - collected in a flash
By a waiter who, it seemed, was later told
We'd been overcharged a fiver; so he doled
Us back one coin apiece, and kept the two -
As we hadn't tipped him - well, I ask, would you?
So now, when I recall this dodgy deal,
Of how we each paid nine pounds for our meal:
Three nines are twenty seven - that's quite plain.
The waiter has his two - so please...
The bill arrived - we'd thirty pounds to pay.
Each of us paid an equal share - in cash.
Ten coins - times three - collected in a flash
By a waiter who, it seemed, was later told
We'd been overcharged a fiver; so he doled
Us back one coin apiece, and kept the two -
As we hadn't tipped him - well, I ask, would you?
So now, when I recall this dodgy deal,
Of how we each paid nine pounds for our meal:
Three nines are twenty seven - that's quite plain.
The waiter has his two - so please...
1000 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
26th Nov 2012 3:02pm
26th Nov 2012 3:02pm
Love Is Blind
His words were beautiful - she knew as much
And offered up her body to his touch.
If 'love is blind' then there is naught can fail
With he her guide dog now, and she his braille.
And offered up her body to his touch.
If 'love is blind' then there is naught can fail
With he her guide dog now, and she his braille.
709 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Nov 2012 2:40pm
25th Nov 2012 2:40pm
"Liar, Liar"
..or an "Ode to the Daily Mail".
Sorry, but this probably only means anything to us Brits, or any ex-pats.
Viscount Rothermere, printing shite;
Wasting forests, through the night.
What mere mortal hand or eye
Can'st stem thy fearful bigotry?
Sorry, but this probably only means anything to us Brits, or any ex-pats.
Viscount Rothermere, printing shite;
Wasting forests, through the night.
What mere mortal hand or eye
Can'st stem thy fearful bigotry?
609 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Nov 2012 11:49am
22nd Nov 2012 11:49am
"Tetris"
In the great
"Game of Life"
You were both
Author and player.
Infamous, and yet
Cruelly anonymous.
That Russian chap
That invented “Tetris”.
Quite a claim,
Should fame have not
Proven so fickle.
"Game Over" tugs at all of us - it must;
As ashes turn to ashes, dust to dust.
We watched your casket lowered, saw it sway;
The all-enveloping earth engulfed its prey...
...then, half the bloody cemetery disappeared.
"Game of Life"
You were both
Author and player.
Infamous, and yet
Cruelly anonymous.
That Russian chap
That invented “Tetris”.
Quite a claim,
Should fame have not
Proven so fickle.
"Game Over" tugs at all of us - it must;
As ashes turn to ashes, dust to dust.
We watched your casket lowered, saw it sway;
The all-enveloping earth engulfed its prey...
...then, half the bloody cemetery disappeared.
517 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Nov 2012 6:44pm
21st Nov 2012 6:44pm
Pocket Calculator
"Addition" said the teacher:
"Who can tell me the amount
If your left pocket holds nine pounds
And your right has six to count?"
The hands went up; the teacher smiled -
"Yes Mark, what have you got?".
"Someone else's trousers."
Came the answer like a shot.
"Who can tell me the amount
If your left pocket holds nine pounds
And your right has six to count?"
The hands went up; the teacher smiled -
"Yes Mark, what have you got?".
"Someone else's trousers."
Came the answer like a shot.
730 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Nov 2012 6:42pm
21st Nov 2012 6:42pm
Tomb Reader (7)
The inventor of the crossword
Lies interred amongst our crew.
To define his final resting place
Dear reader here's a clue.
You can still locate his headstone
At the cemetery in town -
Enter, and you'll see it's
Four across and fifteen down.
Lies interred amongst our crew.
To define his final resting place
Dear reader here's a clue.
You can still locate his headstone
At the cemetery in town -
Enter, and you'll see it's
Four across and fifteen down.
572 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by driversoft
