#poem #poetry #amwriting #beehive #bradford beehivepoets digest compilation

Don't mind me...

 I'm just putting some poems together for my trip to the Beehive tonight....


the republican mantra

from meduaern come bees
fresh as yon hard-back beck :
lufteme pulled
by the petrichor of spring :

drenc on thunder : drenc on cloud :
aelmesgeorn in verge well give :

them stamp the snaeb 
and drink the tear :
full fat their collared necks :
aswellan as swine in gor



the fond view now remains
not the keep of then

not the face by numbers forged
each a windowed glance

just the flare of struck matches



for years she called them parkies
- darkies - and mister to their face
and grew a wart upon her chin

don't come that - she stuck the door
made pot-noodles out of straw
and sold hot dogs out of date

don't bother your head with that
it's a bit of tat from butlins
I picked it up on the fair

she keeps it for a keepsake
forgot it was even there
a memento of the jubilee

her kid was the one - with his bulldog -
and his laced up boots
and short cropped jeans

it was lice that made him cut his hair
don't you drag him in
and put that down - you witch


friend's friend

whenever we met
she told me how I disliked her
and in what measure
   and the reasons
and I laughed

her room was draped with peacock scarves
   of purple print and pink bohemian hue
      burnt candle and saffron and wine

even in the stink of summer
   when children in buggies were gassed by buses
      the air striking in the surrey hills
her room had coolness

our disagreement lay
- or so I am told -
in an off-hand remark while drunk
for which no apology was asked
and full insult taken

she never drank tea - only earl grey or lapsang -
but I drank it with milk and no lemon

during one lecture about the perils of meat
I pointed out I was a vegetarian

she knew me better than myself
told me my opinions
defined my tastes and whims
laughed at my clothes
and my carefree contempt

and then one day we air-kissed
      without goodbye



the beehive poets meet at the beehive pub on westgate bradford - be there at 8pm for an 7.30 start

all welcome

The Blue Book


#poem #poetry #amwriting privilege


I still remember the meagre collection
- shirley bassey tihuana brass neil diamond's greatest hits -
and a couple of 45s
- one of which - tommy steele's confession - we never played -

but we would stack the rest
and dance until they dropped
- then dance some more

flared trousers swinging
- the green patterned pile carpet -
and my sisters osmond lp

later I asked my mother
what she did in the sixties
and where was her music


walking into town -
suddenly I am holding a man's hand
- broad - strong - yet childish
enough to seek a fathers love

blue slushie stained teeth grin at me
- a blob of chocolate ice cream under the nose -

every song I sing is boring


it was only when later
- cheque to cheque - without a washing machine -
that I understood the paucity of music

and my mother nods
in that most irritating of ways -
like when she reads over my shoulder -
or says she doesn't understand my poems
unless I read them aloud


it is only when writing
I understand the happiness
of experience

and see through the lies
of peddled shared guilt

The Blue Book