Best Lino Poems

Continuation from previous poem

We reached the footer of a castle steep,
Seven times by walls encircled very tall,
Defended by a river hard to leap.

We overpassed it...

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I remember living in one room dingy and dire 
with old lino on its rotting wooden floor. 
I remember crystallised spit dangling from guard at...

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(Sundays)


Each street sounded of
Lawn mowers, laughter, bicycles and bells
The odd car being revved up
And oh my! The heavenly smells
Each towns aroma was roast beef
Gravy and...

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Reducing sauces is a clever act that is not predetermined

Swimming in tepid waters often relieves tensions but a moose with a migraine prefers an ice...

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I remember the smell of the polish
The hissing of steam from the pots
The songs on the radio playing
And my nose dripping with snot

Mum would grab...

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Nine times a fish tail is spun from thin yarn?

Swimming in tepid waters often relieves tensions but a moose with a migraine prefers an ice...

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A sign saying “Mr Elaborate lives here”,
Covered the decrepit wooden door.
It was written in Gothic, on an old piece of black lino,
Ripped up from the...

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Inspired by Nocturne in e minor (opus 72, no 1) by Chopin

The sorrow of a harmony 
Never heard by it's intended 
The tears I shed...

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Despite my complaints there was some merit
In being sent away to my uncles farm
Summers of drudgery, begun with play
First night the pungent grass under the...

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Ben,our springer,brown & white
Was our teen-daughter's delight;
Bred by the famous Shand-Kydd
Causing us to part with fifty quid.

He soon grew,chewing lino & chairs
Forever racing up our...

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A sight that pricks the heart like a pin, deflating it
Happiness gushing out to leave a melancholy horror
Which lingers longer like the blood in the...

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Fido

I took Fido out for a walk
I knew that the neighbours would talk
His ears stood up proud
His breathing was loud
And his teeth were like big...

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I reminisce I miss
winter mornings waking up;
ice on windows
inside;
creating patterns; 
ferns and trees
freshly etched works of art
on panes of glass.
The vapor of my breathing 
showing...

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A flea in a bag is not akin to a farmers market on a window sill but wide angled mirrors breathe many a basket bomb...

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Carpet spoke. "It is only Tuesday and already I am covered in pieces and all that straw and occasional crisp. I have no mouth. I...

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