Our little Poets... - Page 18

Bren · 14 Dec 2003, 11:40

Sin wrote
"So high I flew, and am still up there "
Know that feeling Sin,

...felt like that after the Birmingham NEC,concert
Like the poem

Bren

Bren · 14 Dec 2003, 11:44

Hero Imprisioned...another great poem Eyeore....don't ever stop writing, you have such a skill with words.......love reading your poems

Bren

Rob The Badger · 14 Dec 2003, 11:54

Thanks Bren, much appreciated. And where is your latest poem may I ask?

Bren · 14 Dec 2003, 14:58

previous page, one before meshurps "spoon" poem

been hectic this week, not had chance...poor excuse i know

Bren

Rob The Badger · 14 Dec 2003, 17:39

Ooh, I missed that one Bren. Like it...but that 'spoon' poem. . .class. Hehe

rockfenris2005 · 15 Dec 2003, 09:22

I've written five full-length musicals, but I haven't the time to post lyrics yet. I'll wait for a bit, then enlighten any interested

Rob The Badger · 15 Dec 2003, 22:07

Everyday Is Like Sunday

Evenings in Scarborough are always akin to Sunday.
They tend to drag on, like that last
cigarette which you regret taking. Since last
Sunday the fair has moved on,
And the beat poets and clowns are sucking
on tea in a cake shop in the country.

When your days are always akin to Sunday,
you can't help but wonder why the telly's never on;
Why ugly people without a slightest cut of the talent cake
aren't cavorting under your skin, or on the radio.
The faceless employess who hand you your change
seem to cry out for a slap upside the head. . .
However if you were to give them what they so direly deserve,
You'd be the one to go to jail. . .
Freedom is an un-person nowadays.

Rain is commonplace in Scarborough, especially on Sunday
or any other day as it happens.
When you speak up and the clerk gives you a kick up the arse
for talking on her coffee break, one realises how terribly dreary life is.

A Monday much akin to Sunday cigarettes is dragging on. . .
Madely, now there's another one who needs a stabbing. . .
When it seems like grey Sundays have no meaning;
The telly switches to QVC, and one is provided with proof
in the form of tacky jewels.

Rob The Badger · 17 Dec 2003, 20:36

"Hello"
There's no one here to tell me
what on earth I'm doing here
Stop tell the world
Cars crash all the time
but this one's special
special dosage this time
this time
this time
special dosage this time.

Rob The Badger · 19 Dec 2003, 19:03

there are times
when hunger is sustenant
times when blood is no thicker than wine.
in these times birds flock no more
but head yonder solo.

the cries of animals are met with steel
and hope is a crutch that provides no comfort
when the sanctuary of the loving mind simply isn't there
who can we turn to?
when all is the same
on Thames, on Humber,
the same day, the same week and on and on the hours bleed
into one another
as words bleed on a bible page
murderous horrible words.

Rob The Badger · 21 Dec 2003, 00:34

I've got a one way ticket to tommorow
But I might just sell it on
There's no one waiting at the station there

I've a mind to lose my body
And a body to wreck my mind
I've a soul that's never been touched
But there's hope for me yet

The needle opens a thousand doors
Each one shining bright
in the cold forgotten night

"I've moved on, finally"
(but not to where you think. . .)
There's a train waiting for me
(To my surprise)
but I might just stay to see
The sun rise,
in your eyes. . .
(But I won't stay long).

Bren · 23 Dec 2003, 21:15

A Winter Poem..........by Meshurp and Bren

Cold fingers of ice's touch
creep out acoss the quiet land.
Silent trees sentinel stand
bleak twigs capped with ice
frosts downy cloak.
White snow's purity cleanses
the dark landscape
and imprinted feet spiralling
dance the way home.
Silent snowfall covers all trace
of tracks of your laughing passage
as the flickering sun
casts shadows across the world outside your door.
Soft twilight descends and shrouds
the stillness
Moonbeams pick out cold Winter's gems
through the darkened boughs of laden trees.
The soft glow from lighted windows
warms the snow,burnishing the gathered drifts
where winds willful power
brings Winter crowding closer
to your hearth.
Your world of light and warmth
when all around is cold and dark.

Meshurp and Bren

Rob The Badger · 24 Dec 2003, 16:57

These Things I Believe

Musky clouds of amber grey
(These clouds have no silver lining)
Crowd 'round a hollow sky
The trees are skeletons
The roads are graves

This is what I stayed for?
A damp tarpaulin of shame, and regret and. . .and. . .
. . .and an earful of lies.

This is why I remained?
delayed the death knell
To watch the crack
Turning girls to shells

There's a room full of corpses. . .
But there's a doctor in my mind
Sending shock waves to my closing throat

"Hi" say I
"Yes I'm fine"
I lie. . .

"How are you?"
"How nice. . ."
"I'm truly glad you care, you know. . .
no, really, I really am. . ."

Spare rooms are more homely than my own
Because there's nothing there to make me regret
everything I've ever done. . .

A telephone rings in an empty room. . .
it's no one important so I let it ring

But I'm still waiting by the phone. . .
in some desperate hope that he'd think
to pick up the phone and give me a call

But I'm kidding myself aren't I?
People just don't do that sort of thing anymore. . .

So I'll place the needle on the turntable/my arm and press. . .
and let the sweet sensation drift though me
I'm high on a feather of hatred, disgust and utter, hopeless love

I love everything in everyone. . .from blue eyes to last words
I cry you know. . .but I don't let on. . .because that'd be telling. . .

The needle squeaks and yells out a song. . .

"I need a friend. . ." a real one. . .who can "make me happy. . .
I'm so alone. . .
look at me here, here on my own again,
I've strayed in the sunshine"

It's a wonderful life. . .or so I'm told. . .
But I want to believe.
I need to see it for myself

Turn to me. Kiss me. Hold me.
These things I dream.
Love me. Need me. Like me.
These things I believe.
Fin chapite.

Bren · 24 Dec 2003, 17:15

Christmas Eve 3pm

The dismal grey
of a damp December afternoon
smothers the garden
hangs in the air
with sullen stillness.
Inside
warm smells of baking
drift enticingly on
air brittle with the usual
festive arguments.
The bleakness of outside
seems somehow inviting
in it's nothingness.
Longing to skip the next few days
fast-forward Time
wanting to stop
the inexorable treadmill of it all.
Just simply...to stop,
have a little stillness
and a moment or two
of peace.

Bren

Rob The Badger · 24 Dec 2003, 17:48

Quote:

Originally Posted by Bren

Christmas Eve 3pm

The dismal grey
of a damp December afternoon
smother's the garden
hangs in the air
with sullen stillness.
Inside
warm smells of baking
drift enticingly on
air brittle with the usual
festive arguments.
The bleakness of outside
seems somehow inviting
in it's nothingness.
Longing to skip the next few days
fast-forward Time
wanting to stop
the inexorable treadmill of it all.
Just simply...to stop,
have a little stillness
and a moment or two
of peace.

Bren

I know how you feel.

Em · 24 Dec 2003, 20:32

Christmas Eve 3pm - nice one Bren :)

Bren · 24 Dec 2003, 22:22

Quote:

Originally Posted by Rob The Badger

I know how you feel.

Christmas is my least favourite time of year...i know the majority celebrate and have fun....but there are also those for whom it is a very depressing and lonely time of year.

Bren

Bren · 24 Dec 2003, 22:22

Thanks Em

Bren

Rob The Badger · 24 Dec 2003, 22:29

Quote:

Originally Posted by Bren

Quote:

Originally Posted by Rob The Badger

I know how you feel.

Christmas is my least favourite time of year...i know the majority celebrate and have fun....but there are also those for whom it is a very depressing and lonely time of year.

Bren

Indeed. . .

These people go unnoticed at Christmas. . .well, some.

Rob The Badger · 25 Dec 2003, 00:14

Quote:

Originally Posted by Rob The Badger

Everyday Is Like Sunday

Evenings in Scarborough are always akin to Sunday.
They tend to drag on, like that last
cigarette which you regret taking. Since last
Sunday the fair has moved on,
And the beat poets and clowns are sucking
on tea in a cake shop in the country.

When your days are always akin to Sunday,
you can't help but wonder why the telly's never on;
Why ugly people without a slightest cut of the talent cake
aren't cavorting under your skin, or on the radio.
The faceless employess who hand you your change
seem to cry out for a slap upside the head. . .
However if you were to give them what they so direly deserve,
You'd be the one to go to jail. . .
Freedom is an un-person nowadays.

Rain is commonplace in Scarborough, especially on Sunday
or any other day as it happens.
When you speak up and the clerk gives you a kick up the arse
for talking on her coffee break, one realises how terribly dreary life is.

A Monday much akin to Sunday cigarettes is dragging on. . .
Madely, now there's another one who needs a stabbing. . .
When it seems like grey Sundays have no meaning;
The telly switches to QVC, and one is provided with proof
in the form of tacky jewels.

I'd just like to inform you all, that I've just recieved notification that the poem I entered [above] just won me £100 in a town poetry competition. I put this down to all of your support regarding my poetry.

Bren · 25 Dec 2003, 00:44

That's great Rob

Bren

Rob The Badger · 25 Dec 2003, 00:57

Yup! Happy happy happy!

original sin · 25 Dec 2003, 17:02

That is wonderful Rob - This has really brought a tear to my eye. I'm so happy for you and it's not just the money! a recognition I hope you are very very pleased with yourself.

original sin · 25 Dec 2003, 17:03

So the day has now come, at last it’s here
Come and fill your glass, be full of cheer
The lights are twinkling bright, on the tree
Below are presents and they’re not all for me

We’ve eaten lots and have drunk too much
Now watching a rerun of Starskey & Hutch!
Then asleep I shall fall, in my old armchair
Happy and content, but rather worse for wear

Past the tinsel and glitter, I hope we can look
To the special occasion told in an old book
A child sent to save us, by a redeeming grace
Lets me think of the future, I smile on my face

So as we spend our time with loved ones and plenty
Spare a thought for others whose plate may be empty
For the many who may be lonely, frightened or lost
For the old man wrapped up on the bench in the frost

Remember that life is not all about what we own
But the strength of our soul wherever we roam
So next time you smile, let it start from your heart
From your loved ones and family may you never part

Rob The Badger · 30 Dec 2003, 17:52

bump

dottie · 30 Dec 2003, 20:15

Every Day is like Sunday - Fabulous - you deserved to win Rob -

14 Dec 2003, 11:40	#426
Bren The Bat Join Date: 23.03.2003 Location: Roosting on a Silver-Black Phantom Bike. Posts: 10,017	Sin wrote "So high I flew, and am still up there " Know that feeling Sin, ...felt like that after the Birmingham NEC,concert Like the poem Bren

14 Dec 2003, 11:44	#427
Bren The Bat Join Date: 23.03.2003 Location: Roosting on a Silver-Black Phantom Bike. Posts: 10,017	Hero Imprisioned...another great poem Eyeore....don't ever stop writing, you have such a skill with words.......love reading your poems Bren

14 Dec 2003, 11:54	#428
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	Thanks Bren, much appreciated. And where is your latest poem may I ask?

14 Dec 2003, 14:58	#429
Bren The Bat Join Date: 23.03.2003 Location: Roosting on a Silver-Black Phantom Bike. Posts: 10,017	previous page, one before meshurps "spoon" poem been hectic this week, not had chance...poor excuse i know Bren

14 Dec 2003, 17:39	#430
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	Ooh, I missed that one Bren. Like it...but that 'spoon' poem. . .class. Hehe

15 Dec 2003, 09:22	#431
rockfenris2005 Mega Loafer Join Date: 16.02.2003 Location: Posts: 2,217	I've written five full-length musicals, but I haven't the time to post lyrics yet. I'll wait for a bit, then enlighten any interested

15 Dec 2003, 22:07	#432
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	Everyday Is Like Sunday Evenings in Scarborough are always akin to Sunday. They tend to drag on, like that last cigarette which you regret taking. Since last Sunday the fair has moved on, And the beat poets and clowns are sucking on tea in a cake shop in the country. When your days are always akin to Sunday, you can't help but wonder why the telly's never on; Why ugly people without a slightest cut of the talent cake aren't cavorting under your skin, or on the radio. The faceless employess who hand you your change seem to cry out for a slap upside the head. . . However if you were to give them what they so direly deserve, You'd be the one to go to jail. . . Freedom is an un-person nowadays. Rain is commonplace in Scarborough, especially on Sunday or any other day as it happens. When you speak up and the clerk gives you a kick up the arse for talking on her coffee break, one realises how terribly dreary life is. A Monday much akin to Sunday cigarettes is dragging on. . . Madely, now there's another one who needs a stabbing. . . When it seems like grey Sundays have no meaning; The telly switches to QVC, and one is provided with proof in the form of tacky jewels.

17 Dec 2003, 20:36	#433
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	"Hello" There's no one here to tell me what on earth I'm doing here Stop tell the world Cars crash all the time but this one's special special dosage this time this time this time special dosage this time.

19 Dec 2003, 19:03	#434
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	there are times when hunger is sustenant times when blood is no thicker than wine. in these times birds flock no more but head yonder solo. the cries of animals are met with steel and hope is a crutch that provides no comfort when the sanctuary of the loving mind simply isn't there who can we turn to? when all is the same on Thames, on Humber, the same day, the same week and on and on the hours bleed into one another as words bleed on a bible page murderous horrible words.

21 Dec 2003, 00:34	#435
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	I've got a one way ticket to tommorow But I might just sell it on There's no one waiting at the station there I've a mind to lose my body And a body to wreck my mind I've a soul that's never been touched But there's hope for me yet The needle opens a thousand doors Each one shining bright in the cold forgotten night "I've moved on, finally" (but not to where you think. . .) There's a train waiting for me (To my surprise) but I might just stay to see The sun rise, in your eyes. . . (But I won't stay long).

23 Dec 2003, 21:15	#436
Bren The Bat Join Date: 23.03.2003 Location: Roosting on a Silver-Black Phantom Bike. Posts: 10,017	A Winter Poem..........by Meshurp and Bren Cold fingers of ice's touch creep out acoss the quiet land. Silent trees sentinel stand bleak twigs capped with ice frosts downy cloak. White snow's purity cleanses the dark landscape and imprinted feet spiralling dance the way home. Silent snowfall covers all trace of tracks of your laughing passage as the flickering sun casts shadows across the world outside your door. Soft twilight descends and shrouds the stillness Moonbeams pick out cold Winter's gems through the darkened boughs of laden trees. The soft glow from lighted windows warms the snow,burnishing the gathered drifts where winds willful power brings Winter crowding closer to your hearth. Your world of light and warmth when all around is cold and dark. Meshurp and Bren

24 Dec 2003, 16:57	#437
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	These Things I Believe Musky clouds of amber grey (These clouds have no silver lining) Crowd 'round a hollow sky The trees are skeletons The roads are graves This is what I stayed for? A damp tarpaulin of shame, and regret and. . .and. . . . . .and an earful of lies. This is why I remained? delayed the death knell To watch the crack Turning girls to shells There's a room full of corpses. . . But there's a doctor in my mind Sending shock waves to my closing throat "Hi" say I "Yes I'm fine" I lie. . . "How are you?" "How nice. . ." "I'm truly glad you care, you know. . . no, really, I really am. . ." Spare rooms are more homely than my own Because there's nothing there to make me regret everything I've ever done. . . A telephone rings in an empty room. . . it's no one important so I let it ring But I'm still waiting by the phone. . . in some desperate hope that he'd think to pick up the phone and give me a call But I'm kidding myself aren't I? People just don't do that sort of thing anymore. . . So I'll place the needle on the turntable/my arm and press. . . and let the sweet sensation drift though me I'm high on a feather of hatred, disgust and utter, hopeless love I love everything in everyone. . .from blue eyes to last words I cry you know. . .but I don't let on. . .because that'd be telling. . . The needle squeaks and yells out a song. . . "I need a friend. . ." a real one. . .who can "make me happy. . . I'm so alone. . . look at me here, here on my own again, I've strayed in the sunshine" It's a wonderful life. . .or so I'm told. . . But I want to believe. I need to see it for myself Turn to me. Kiss me. Hold me. These things I dream. Love me. Need me. Like me. These things I believe. Fin chapite.

24 Dec 2003, 17:15	#438
Bren The Bat Join Date: 23.03.2003 Location: Roosting on a Silver-Black Phantom Bike. Posts: 10,017	Christmas Eve 3pm The dismal grey of a damp December afternoon smothers the garden hangs in the air with sullen stillness. Inside warm smells of baking drift enticingly on air brittle with the usual festive arguments. The bleakness of outside seems somehow inviting in it's nothingness. Longing to skip the next few days fast-forward Time wanting to stop the inexorable treadmill of it all. Just simply...to stop, have a little stillness and a moment or two of peace. Bren

24 Dec 2003, 20:32	#440
Em Super Loafer Join Date: 08.07.2003 Location: Sweden Posts: 495	Christmas Eve 3pm - nice one Bren :)

24 Dec 2003, 22:22	#442
Bren The Bat Join Date: 23.03.2003 Location: Roosting on a Silver-Black Phantom Bike. Posts: 10,017	Thanks Em Bren

25 Dec 2003, 00:44	#445
Bren The Bat Join Date: 23.03.2003 Location: Roosting on a Silver-Black Phantom Bike. Posts: 10,017	That's great Rob Bren

25 Dec 2003, 00:57	#446
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	Yup! Happy happy happy!

25 Dec 2003, 17:02	#447
original sin Sinner Join Date: 15.04.2003 Location: cyber space Posts: 2,457	That is wonderful Rob - This has really brought a tear to my eye. I'm so happy for you and it's not just the money! a recognition I hope you are very very pleased with yourself.

25 Dec 2003, 17:03	#448
original sin Sinner Join Date: 15.04.2003 Location: cyber space Posts: 2,457	So the day has now come, at last it’s here Come and fill your glass, be full of cheer The lights are twinkling bright, on the tree Below are presents and they’re not all for me We’ve eaten lots and have drunk too much Now watching a rerun of Starskey & Hutch! Then asleep I shall fall, in my old armchair Happy and content, but rather worse for wear Past the tinsel and glitter, I hope we can look To the special occasion told in an old book A child sent to save us, by a redeeming grace Lets me think of the future, I smile on my face So as we spend our time with loved ones and plenty Spare a thought for others whose plate may be empty For the many who may be lonely, frightened or lost For the old man wrapped up on the bench in the frost Remember that life is not all about what we own But the strength of our soul wherever we roam So next time you smile, let it start from your heart From your loved ones and family may you never part

30 Dec 2003, 17:52	#449
Rob The Badger Too sexy for this post Join Date: 14.04.2002 Location: Manchester, UK Posts: 2,895	bump

30 Dec 2003, 20:15	#450
dottie queen post- whore extraordinaire Join Date: 29.01.2003 Location: Still Rockin' at "72" Posts: 13,181	Every Day is like Sunday - Fabulous - you deserved to win Rob -