Poetry

Poetry

It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care to act,
it starts when you do it again after they said no,
it starts when you say we and know who you mean,
and each day you mean one more.

Marge Piercy

Cummings and Goings
Tuesday, 26 May 2020 07:54

Cummings and Goings

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in Poetry
Cummings and Goings by David Erdos Would Hitler have dumped Eva Braun?He needed her slavish concession. The analogy in the UK is that HitlerIsn’t even the one who’s PM. No, our bloated blonde Eva backgroundsBy constructing a 3D photocopyOf presence, while his slick shadowIs sliming, and staining our day For…
Canzone to an Underground Flow
Friday, 22 May 2020 17:29

Canzone to an Underground Flow

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in Poetry
Canzone to an Underground Flow by Jane Burn There is a river underfoot. The road bearsabove it, thickly set. Every while, a squareof red-iron drain, skidded worn – pinned below spinsof tready-rubber, spin wheel repetitions.Blinkered to the water’s secret flow, they lietheir metal eyes, choosing the upwards pale sky,its woeful…
Red Biddy
Thursday, 21 May 2020 16:46

Red Biddy

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in Poetry
Red Biddy by Fran Lock red biddy, noun, a mixture of cheap wine and methylated spirits. biddy, noun, of unknown origin; probably influenced by the use of biddy denoting an Irish maidservant, from Biddy, pet form of the given name Bridget . ‘All you young people now take my advice…
Super-spreaders
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Saturday, 16 May 2020 09:29

Super-spreaders

in Poetry
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Super-Spreaders by Mark Kirkbride Contagion wants to shake your hand. Now you’re ‘it’ and you don’t even know it. When everyone else could see it coming, the Prime Minister dismissed it. With more time to prepare than most around the world, he squandered it all, sleep-walking into disasterwith missed COBRA…
Pandemic
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Tuesday, 12 May 2020 13:01

Pandemic

in Poetry
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Pandemic by Dave Lewis I was thinking about the last pandemic,when fifty million war-ravaged soulscoughed up their bloody guts and died.Merely a small gesture on my part,after the royalists’ pointless war.To be honest, after you did it again,I couldn’t be arsed to punish you.Thought a big bomb or twowas enough…
The Unopened University: Stay Alert, Boris!
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Monday, 11 May 2020 08:08

The Unopened University: Stay Alert, Boris!

in Poetry
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Overacting, or The Unopened University by David Erdos And so the Unopen University fails as its peri-patheticLecturer garbles. Transmitting graphs and equationsThat would set the mathematically untrigged into spin; A series of mixed ratios equal R over the rate of dissentSubdivided, before what is in blue times the yellow,Can, to…
Almarks: Radical Poetry from Shetland
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Saturday, 09 May 2020 12:28

Almarks: Radical Poetry from Shetland

in Poetry
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Jim Mainland introduces a new anthology of radical poetry from Culture Matters What is radical poetry? And can it change anything? The poems in ‘Almarks’ are radical in different ways. Some are explicitly political in content, while others are more indirectly observational and personal. Some are radical in style and…
VE Day: Why they give you medals
Thursday, 07 May 2020 12:43

VE Day: Why they give you medals

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in Poetry
 Why they give you medals For B.L., who sent his back to the palace, stating 'I didn't fight for you'. by Fran Lock, with Unlovable Labour image above by Steev Burgess So they can keep the bloody colonies.So they can dress the slums in bunting.So they can rewrite you, as…
VE Day
Thursday, 07 May 2020 11:24

VE Day

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VE Day by Paul Francis, with image by Laura Moore After it’s over, time to pause for breath.It takes some working out, the “what comes next?”The grim familiarity with deathcan not be cancelled with some pious textand we don’t want to end up like before. Yes, it was give and…
Graces
Wednesday, 06 May 2020 22:08

Graces

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Graces by P. W. Bridgman In the dying light, as the moon drifts fully behind the casement’s edge, Ted and Grace’s little one drifts too: from a fitful wakefulness,at last and finally to a placid sleep. Somnolence settles upon him like a blessing, like a light snowfall, like the blanket’s…
Numbers
Wednesday, 06 May 2020 08:39

Numbers

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in Poetry
numbers by Steve Pottinger this morning(one dressing-gown, two pockets, missing belt) standing on the back doorstep(cuppa, four sugars, first fag of the day) she’s thinking about numbers(two blackbirds, three wood pigeon, one wren) dry mouth, heart pitter-pattering (nineteen to the dozen) the small ones she can handle,(five fence panels, twelve…
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