Posts Tagged by Jamie Green
Poetry highlights of 2011
| January 2, 2012 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under features, poetry |
(Please note: These poems were chosen by an independent judge, and not by the editor. I hope you enjoy them!) BEST ORIGINAL POEMS Underground We are down in the earth In the burial mounds and medieval crypts With the naked bodies and their skeletons dancing, Dancing in their stone and dirt graves Why do we commemorate, we remember The pale faces of the dead in their deaths? We are down in the earth singing To the tune of faintly echoed heartbeats And pulses at the wrist, blood spurting out The carotids and carpal tunnels of the slain Your face is etched, like mine in one of these columns; Where have you disappeared to? Others just like you Have come down… more
Poetry of the week – things past
| September 26, 2011 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
Silent Witness In the caves of mirthless night A solemn streetlight stands alone As petty drifts of gustless wind Flirt to stir its sickly flame Out from grazing shadows creeps A pearly face of anxious haste And following, a timid cloak Shies from blooming in his wake He picks his steps on cobbled road But on the kerb a fleeting glint Of teeth and eyes and polished toe Leers unseen with lucre lust In the lamplight’s apron Which sound is quashed with stifling calm A rogue accosts a frugal monk Who begs forlorn of none to give But at brief, confrontation’s end The thief, stirred by his humble peace, Hits out in fear and flees the eyes Which searched his… more
Poetry of the week – home
| September 12, 2011 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
Home is where you grow up, return each night Covered in blood, sweat and tears Home is where you go to fight It looks after you Throughout the endless, restless years. Is your home a sanctuary or where you go to die? Where you join new people new faces, Indulge yourself with past embraces. “The ache for home lives in all of us” By Sam Altmann and Georgie Tindale Home Ah, indeed. An abode. What better place to reclaim what I’m owed? The owner knows what I’ve come here to do And fears he’s the one I’ll be doing it to And those fears aren’t unfounded, I’ll gladly admit If I can’t reclaim debt, he’ll get the worst of… more
Poetry of the week – reality and illusion
| August 29, 2011 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
|
Body Language The bridge is full, there’s no alarm For me at the elbow of one crooked arm My figure’s digested by cast-iron bones, Unseen by tides of corporate clones. It’s skeletal rust that holds me seated, As skeletal cars drive by, I feel cheated Of one final reflex, my last nervous pulse To give back to the world (which has proven me false) A foot in the arsehole in making a show But no concerned fingers reach out from below With the throb of the traffic, the bridge seems to sigh And I spit in its face, to jump, fall, and fly? By Hannah Robinson Our World You’re in your lounge, feet on the floor Shoulders to the… more
Poetry of the week – limericks
| August 22, 2011 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
There once were some Quakers from Ealing Who didn’t find riots appealing They countered the violence With periods of silence Much better than looting or stealing By Jamie Green There once was a lizard called Sprite Whose skin was all shiny and white They said “How’d you do it?” He said, “I shampoo it, and blow dry it till it’s just right!” By Ellie Brierley There once was a man from Vancouver Who wanted to marry a hoover On his wedding night He was in for a fright “Cor blimey! She clean blew me o-over!” By Georgie Tindale There once was a man from Japan Whose limericks just wouldn’t scan When his friends told him so, He replied,… more
Poetry of the week – contrasts
| August 15, 2011 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
Broken Sun I am the darkness that envelopes you. I fold my letter neatly, tuck it firmly inside, Before resolve’s forgotten, sending off into the light, To salted sunshine and air that weighs heavier on your lungs. I’ll sit in my frozen darkness, unmoving as I write lies to try to fix The blinding truth, that hurt your eyes and scorched your mind, That tore your insides and made you cough until you were dry. I alone knew the truth, I, lonely, kept it from you, Waiting for the cover of my darkness, to enlighten you. Now I’m struggling to mend your shining soul with my dark silken lies, Silken ties that only pull you closer, as I try not… more
Poetry of the week – youth and age
| August 8, 2011 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
The Ozymandias of the Ouse Many years from now, When I am old and grey, I shall have a statue constructed Of myself. And it will represent a Younger More athletic Larger than life Version of myself. And on the pedestal it shall read: “I am Fergus Doyle, king of poets, Look upon my works, ye wordsmiths and despair!” And no more. None of my works will survive to look upon. I will be long dead and gone. They will think these two things of me, Those archaeologists of the future. I am either: The greatest writer to have ever lived, Or the largest ego of the ancient world. Either way, I will never be forgotten. By Fergus Doyle … more
Poetry of the week – origins and beginnings
| August 1, 2011 | Posted by Georgie Tindale under poetry |
“Start at the Very Start.” “Since the beginning of time, there’s been a word for the lie, That the sprites tell the ghosts as they wisp on by, Since the start of the ‘verse, the wind let out a sigh; Every time men told the tale of the bee. Since the bloss’ming of the sun there’s been no time left to read, Which was down to the size of wise king’s great need… Since the birth of the Earth, t’was a sound of a steed-” When the Children. Stumbled. In. “Since the budding of beasts, it’s all been left to chance, If they build a fire ‘fore their two-left-footed dance. Since the dawn of men, it’s been the wide expanse-… more
