Poetry Space
3rd September 2010
| Tel: 0117 961 4081 Web: www.poetryspace.co.uk Email: susan@poetryspace.co.uk | Bristol and London | 
September Poetry Showcase |
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September Showcase
- Photograph © Stuart Johnston
@ Sunset Bay
The finest china was served
The treat was purged-
With memories of laughter
The atmosphere hurricane in musical tunes
Sunny disposition of squire gentlemen,
At the bay of glowing lights-
Sunset reflecting mood-
Crowning salsa to the harmonious melody-
Whistling high-heels and crunching shoes-
Giggling here and there,
Tying bonds-
Re-affirming vows-
And sharing bands-
In array of flying kites-
Rainbow mingling colours-
Amidst virtuous women - of perfection
Who trudge the anniversary of life’s marriage,
Celebrated at sunset bay,
Coz it’s envisioned to be the haven
For successful pairs.
© Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah (Ghana)
Life is a game
-that we are all playing,
but i stay in, decaying, rarely displaying
any of the skills that society's craving;
I cave in, not braving the contact i'm waiving.
its a role i'm playing, but i missed the weigh-in
i'm swaying, fraying, opponents are preying;
i'm a punchbag, a ragtag with a social gag
they're still hitting me, as i raise the white flag.
i search for a breakthrough, this game can't continue
i pause for thought but freeze like a statue.
need a platform to raise me out of this mindset
i stretch for the 'off' switch, but instead i hit reset.
© Gerwyn James
The Dancer
(Stepping off the ledge)
I can have it again and again –
downloaded, speeded up, slowed down,
stopped at the crucial point:
the knockout punch; tongues licking goodbye;
the rare triple play; the moment of creation;
the car exploding against the wall.
The dancer stepping off the ledge.
I can play it again and again Sam
to my heart's digital content.
I can even have it reversed:
the diver sucked feet first out of the water,
landing on the board perfectly dry.
The marriage working out, divorce averted.
The dancer dancing safely on the ledge.
At night I dream with the help of camera
techniques: jump-cuts, fade-outs, slow-mo.
The same old dreams: the snake pits;
the flying over vast cities; the ambiguity;
the appointment I have with someone
somewhere, but have yet to keep.
The dancer stepping off the ledge.
© David R Morgan
'Alice Threw The Looking Glass'
"Alice threw the looking glass,
She threw it at the wall.
Alice threw the looking glass
It splintered in its fall.
Alice threw the looking glass,
It nearly holed the rabbit.
Alice threw the looking glass,
A very shattering habit."
© David R Morgan
Author David R Morgan teaches 11-19 year olds at Cardinal Newman School in Luton, and lives in Bedfordshire with his wife and two children. His eldest daughter lives in The Isle Of Man.
David has been an arts worker and literature officer, organizer of book festivals and writer-in-residence for education authorities, Littlehay Prison and Fairfield Psychiatric Hospital (which was the subject of a Channel 4 film, Out of Our Minds). He has had two plays screened on ITV.
His books for children include : The strange Case of William Whipper-Snapper, three Info Rider books for Collins and Blooming Cats which won the Acorn Award and was recently animated for BBC2's Words and Pictures Plus as well as a Horrible Histories biography: Spilling The Beans On Boudicca. David has also written poetry books, including: The Broken Picture Book, The Windmill and the Grains (Hawthorn Prize) and Buzz Off.
His poetry collection Walrus On A Rocking Chair , illustrated by John Welding, is published by Claire Publications and his adult poetry Ticket For The Peepshow is published by art’icle.
"Sad Tragic Mystery"
Kidnapped by memories, numbed by regret,
my wild waking dreams never let me forget,
past summers and winters all rolled into one,
I'm stuck at the start, though I've already begun,
Minutes and months both feel the same,
Whoever invented the rules of this game?
The mind doesn't play by any known rules,
I want to rebuild it but where are the tools?
The show must go on, or so they say,
yet this crazy riddle won't get solved today,
where are all the answers, where do they hide?
Some claim their hidden deep down inside
When it seems within reach, the bar just gets higher
The 'Sad Tragic Mystery of my Unknown Desire'
© John Flynn
Saturday Morning Confession
Waiting under the picture of the Pope
His eyes following my every move
My turn to go in
Bless me father for I have sinned
I stole apples from the church orchard
Let me see the hands that stole
Though the grill I pushed my hands
Down slammed the grill
You will not do that again!
© Charles Lawler