Ageing Gothic Mother
By liplash
A set of poems cataloguing the adventures of a woman
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- 1481 reads
Ageing Gothic Mother 1,2 & 3
These are for your daughter then? It was too late My knickerbockers and I had left the building
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- 1003 reads
Ageing Gothic Mother 4
And there's me Queen of the do-it-yourself brunettes White roots glowing Standing in the hallway
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- 1056 reads
Applying myself 2
I'm pretty sure I saw the girl who got the job Her smile as she passed me on the stairs As wide as an automatic door How did I feel about the web?...
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- 359 reads
Back View
I catch your jacket from behind at the edge of the sharp corn Swaying I could watch you for ever not looking for me
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- 743 reads
Catching some air
It was the plaques you see All along the pier You didn’t like the ones about the dead Talk about mood turner
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- 777 reads
Christmas Address
A is for Alex in Moscow – real name Oleg who gave me his number in case I got lost Amy - babysitter from when you were little and we were all still together B is for
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- 485 reads
Christmas Card
I fill up sulkily All kind of spoiling Itching Glaring at the numbers flying past Daring it to overfill yet knowing it can't coz there's a mechanism I get ready to pay at last Get ready to ruin somebody's day There's only one lady in the kiosk It's her Tannoy woman
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- 791 reads
Clan
You sit there The air cracks You listen to me I'm someone else Hiding under your wide glance I watch your hair And breathe you in Like a fire eater
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- 880 reads
Clock
The lines fill the sheet Like your legs As the flimsy dividing curtain flutters Like your eyelids
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- 3 comments
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- 773 reads
Damsel
I’m distressed By the way you’re dressed
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- 1 comment
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- 868 reads
Dissertation notes – Supervision 1
You tell me about blue whales And how their hearts Are as big as a small car
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- 1 comment
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- 1162 reads
Fairy Tale
My cooker timer has broken My kettle doesn’t whistle suddenly Yesterday someone on TV said Cathie And two Caths rang me at the same time All the bells in the world have stopped ringing
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- 565 reads
Fruit of the room
Back on the pier the automaton repair man fixes our expressions lost in the photo booth
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- 1 comment
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- 1073 reads
Gate Crush
My longed for leaver From lover pool
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- 1156 reads
Good to go
It’s an open office discussion What would you do if you knew you were going to die?
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- 667 reads
Home again naturally
I fell up the steps like the woman with the pram on the stairs in that film with the eye except that was down wasn't it Battleslipping like a right potemkin
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- 978 reads
How not to eat in public
It’s funny how you get a rhythm by accident sometimes. With words. How they work sometimes. I was sitting on a crowded train, on my way to London...
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- 339 reads
Intellectual Property
This is not a poem but a flourish This is not a love song but a kiss off More Playstation than placation
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- 861 reads
Keep Wales Tidy
While snow-topped mountains blazed
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- 508 reads
Lasso
I never love you so much as when you turn in that last minute
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- 679 reads
Lunchtime leftovers
Tesco Value carrot stick parcels Sit in my fridge like judgemental delicate hearts
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- 557 reads
Nightwatchmen
We vibrate past them Imagine collecting protection money from the fish Giggling in the rigging Dancing about on the spit
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- 856 reads
Northern District and Circle
I wonder if salmon taste whisky A dead sheep melts into the sand
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- 993 reads
One for the road
Damsel I’m distressed By the way you’re dressed
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- 720 reads
Oyster Catcher
I am cast Like an aspersion Or a spell Like a first stone
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- 706 reads
Pataphysical Autobiography
You saw me again Got one of those faces like a runway wife like a best friend like a spiral fairy smoke queen an out of control evil twin set down down town double trouble map I'm everywhere me
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- 770 reads
Pataphysical Autobiography 2
You thought you saw me Like Keats saw that woman in Vauxhall Glanced by chance at a distance You forgot to mention how good my gloves looked Or how my eyes reminded you of sapphires You couldn't even love me when it wasn't me
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- 839 reads
Plane Spotting
I saw him Like Keats saw that woman in Vauxhall Pale as a jet plane Children crying Your father's looking at clouds she said not looking Called away before I could catch his dark dark river eyes Swaying slightly as he walked
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- 890 reads
Self-raising flower
like a bun or early sun
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- 1067 reads
Waterloo
My bag so full Of knickers and toothpaste and the Minirolls I’ve been offering since Halesworth
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- 584 reads
Weather report
I’m in the skate park Cloud obscurity nine out of ten I dream about huge wasps leaving toffee I eat one of the stings Like a brazil nut
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- 1 comment
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- 742 reads
Weather Report 2
Going too high on the swings When there’s no reply
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- 2 comments
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- 808 reads
You can get pills for that
The route seemed so simple; Line by line she wrote it down. No.2, Pigalle to Porte Dauphin, get off at Charles de Gaulle Ecole, No.6 from Charles de...
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- 2 comments
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- 664 reads
Weather Report
It was warm for November, but there was wind, which caught us every time we started uphill or pulled ourselves over another stile, or tripped on a...
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- 358 reads