Rush job by a cynic!!!

We are drowning in a deluge of draught
Water levels are rising in the North and the South.
Hose pipe bans prevail all over the land
Whilst we are sinking slowly as rivers expand.

Our football team is applying to play Polo
The beach volley ball team has now gone solo
Our rowing teams practice in our streets
With results on Facebook and for those who Tweet.

Good news, there is no need to wash cars
and if you like you can bathe under the stars
Should the Thames rise a wee bit more
The Queen can tie up at the knocker on my door.

Still it’s not all bad, some good news here
Murray is in the final, there’s no need to despair
We have waited so long, win he must
It will give us good cheer as we turn to red rust.

United we swim all over this nation
While Boris spends millions on regeneration
But all will be forgiven if Murrray wins
Maybe even Bob Diamond and others like him.

Bad news will get buried just like before
While water keeps rising and lapping our doors
Graham Norton may beg throw me a buoy
While Cameron on the Titanic dances with joy.

Sorry, bogman, I don't mean to drown you out, but I have been writing too. Unfortunatly, both July's are sinking beneath the parapet. It must be the weight of those five rings!


In depth, it is a big hole,
But space at the bottom is very limited.
On the way down, it is possible to grasp at things,
Things which halt the rapid fall - for a minute or two.
In fact, strong hands reach out,
Grip with firmness and determination,
But then they become distracted, their attention wanders,
Their hold slackens, and the descent begins once more.
And the lifelines run out - eventually.
‘Please!’ ‘ Would you mind?’ ‘Can you?’ ‘ I’m sorry, I know you are busy!’
Then, there you are!
You and bottom of hole!
Looking around, your nose is almost pressed to the wall.
Try turning, your body twists and remains in that position.
Look up in desperation, face screwed up, features squashed together,
Your ’funny’ face!
But it is not a joke, and you are not laughing.
Voices inside your head – sense and nonsense
Begin to soothe, mock, soothe, mock, mock, mock, mock.
Until you clench your hands and shout
I WILL NOT LET YOU DEFEAT ME!
Little by little, inch by inch,
Like climbing Mount Everest
With a piece of string and a clothes peg!
Your ascent begins.
And it is all your own work.
Nobody can understand, some don’t even try,
Still asleep, unaware,
That you have fought that bloody battle!
AGAIN!

Lin
xx

philosophical moment

everything we experience is in our mind, just some experiences are more consistent than others.

end of philosophical moment

When you are at the bottom of the hole reading about incontinence - philosophical doesn't get a look in!
In case you are wondering - my computer is at the bottom of the hole with me.

Good morning, turnip, by the way!

Lin
xx

I'm afraid that it is once again the individual new topics that have taken July of the front page. Posters are still not aware of the limitations of our pages and the necessity of posting in one place so that we can all find the latest posts.
Perhaps we need a message at the beginning of every month to get all poems posted in the relevant month.

perhaps we should ask for an official sticky to that end?

ps i hope its ok me putting stories elsewhere as poetry monthly doesnt seem appropriate for things that size.

mid-life

some chaps reach half-a-ton
and wonder 'wheres the fun'
and go and buy an open top sports car
and others seem to like
a harley-davidson bike
but i huv got maself an eelectrik geetar

its supposed to be for jenny
but a dollar to the penny
she'll huv to beg to get a chance to play
while I learn a led zep riff
though my fingers are all stiff
I'll monopolise the geetar night and day

all together
da dah da da daah, di di, di di, da dah da da daah, di di ,di di (repeat until neighbours knock on door)

Thanks Turnip- found myself singing da dah da da dah... Just as well I'm on my own at mo, as I'm not too tuneful.Keep the tunes going!



A MOMENT IN TIME

There she is
Dancing down the street
In Manchester's curry district,
Nimble on her feet.
Midnight gone, she prances, advances...
Groups on the corner
Smoke and talk.
Dim lights from windows
Reach the sidewalk.
She skips on relentlessly
In this moment of time,
Her heart full of joys,
Her life in its prime.
With senses magnified,
Chatter resounds.
She responds happily
To questions
And suggestions
As she bounds
Along,
Her head full of song,
Unable to sleep,
Bedcovers in a heap
In her student room.
On her way she goes
Faster and faster
Past houses
And curry houses
Singing out loud now
Moving like a racing car
Following the brightness
Of a star.
Her pulse now rapid
she is trapped
then lapped
no road mapped
wrist rapped
face slapped
shoulder tapped.
Back again
Uncertain
Nothing fine, out of line,
Too much dopamine.

ellemac
i really liked your poem, and thats not a favour returned. it really is rather good. i have 'mastered' da dah da da da dah didi didi and am now trying deep purples dah dah daaah, da dah da dah, dah dah daaah, da daaaaaaah. at least on headphones with lots of reverb, it almost sounds inadequate (two steps up from complete rubbish).