I'm so incredibly proud and privileged ,
to be recognised by the #GBEA '25 team,
The fact that I've been shortlisted,
Is far beyond my wildest dream.
Single mum to three wild boys,
They're the apple of my eyes,
I'm the founder of Lotus Poetry,
A new and upcoming social enterprise.
I'm running on purpose and passion,
Lots of caffeine, kindness and care,
But I'm really struggling to find,
The funds to get me there.
Real life isn't like a fairytale,
This Cinderella is doing her best,
Working hard to find a way,
To attend with all the rest.
Where I get time for me,
It's not often that I do,
I hope I make it work,
So my dream can come true.
A night off from the boys,
So I can drink and dance,
An opportunity to meet you all,
Thanking you for this incredible chance.
A burned up system of control
A revolt spoken with flames
Silence was no longer an option
Peace had been exhausted
The only language they communicate
Violence
The police man specialises in brutality when it comes to the black man
'Stop and search'
An excuse they use
To abuse
The 'blacks"
Used as a slur
By the oppressor
As if it's poison, as if it's something to beware
Of
The Brixton riots of 1981
An explosion ready to happen
All that was needed was a lighter to spark the fuse
13 bodies
13 humans
13 black men,
Lost to hate
Tensions rose like the smoke in the buildings
A quite smile left on the faces of those reeling
Their own kind of justice, it was oh so freeing
Retaliation they didn't expect
In their own words they believed they had 'controlled the blackies'
But we have a weapon
One that whispered through generations
Nothing loud
Just something strategic
Something quiet
A lingering secret
Black rage
A communal experience
Of built up fatigue
Of the uk's involvement
In the mistreatment Of black people
When they say not everything is about race
I say yes it is
You may not have experienced it
But I did
Your privilege is showing
Your ego suffocating
Your ignorance provoking
Your stupidity frustrating
Don't insult my intelligence
Racism is still prevalent
It's foundation American
I don't care if my voice makes me a villain
I will always speak up for victims
Of the unjust system
This is a black lived experience
And I will not let that be forgotten
My voice my biggest weapon
It's power could start a rebellion
And you would be very wrong if you think you can silence it
So yes everything is about race
And no we can't be erased
In the summer heat of '47's cry,
A line was drawn beneath the sky.
Not ink, but blood, not words, but flame—
Two nations born, but none the same.
Fields once golden, shared with grace,
Now whispered names in a stranger’s place.
Neighbors turned to fleeing feet,
Homes abandoned, hearts incomplete.
The Ganga wept, the Indus roared,
As trains of silence onward soared.
One carried dreams, the other pain,
Each bound by history's heavy chain.
Mothers clutched their children tight,
As dusk replaced the promise of light.
The earth was split, but souls entwined,
By love, by loss, by ties maligned.
Yet even as the borders grew,
In every heart, an ember flew—
Of songs once sung in shared embrace,
Of temples, mosques, a common space.
Now time walks slow through wounds unhealed,
Through stories still too deep to yield.
But in the hush of evening's breath,
Hope blooms quietly out of death.
May memory teach what lines erase,
That peace begins with face to face.
Not walls, but bridges must we chart—
For no one owns a human heart.
Irish Equines and Scottish Rubbish
Admiration's and Despondent
days
as sail will say of sewing's
days
antonym was taught with
pleasant pirch
Birch as drawn or Castled wrong
heavenly curvatures
rarely daunt
Playful men aboard, a sea
Days end nights
Arabic keys
Bought, brought at boughe
nestled beside, curries
left favorite
only and when boats as steam
are played fifth
dedicated to orders and the vice of an Admiral's Home
I wonder.
I wonder what will happen when
all the English dictionaries are burnt
and Shakespeare is abolished
as FAR RIGHT and Racist,
and when the Beatles are
vilified for 'She Loves You'
when it should have
been 'they them love you'.
When the battle of Britain
Begs an unreserved apology.
When the British inventions
Are cast aside as imperial luck
When Europe forgets as the Russians
Have, who saved them in WW2
When people are imprisoned for
Love of these islands and free
Speech is abolished and punished
But this horror won’t happen tomorrow
No, not tomorrow, or the day after
But don’t feel reassured or complacent
Because they arrived months ago
And we all must be ready to pay.
David Cox 02/02/25
They said we’d have snow and, by God, they were right
I’m told that it came down just after midnight
But systems in place and procedures pre-planned
Meant our society could make a stand
They’ve closed all the schools and they’ve cancelled the trains
They’ve banned all the buses from tight country lanes
And all the armed forces are still on standby
While shops have toboggans piled up to the sky
Motorbike riders keep feet near the ground
For fear that black ice they can’t see spins them round
The soup kitchens sprang into life at great speed
So hungry and half frozen people can feed
The snowploughs have been out on duty all night
People took comfort at that very sight
And some will take refuge in local church halls
So we’ll be prepared when that second flake falls
My sizzling heart failing around the clock
No light colliding with the dark to spark
But essence dying passively through the dim
Dream's wall burning by the fire of terror
In a second, a sharp arrow infiltrates the soul
And silently overflowing blood around its artery.
Nothing emerged than an insane time,
Everything not set as materialised
There are volatile inheritance bloodstreams
Follows to end up with a quiet destination.
What a life ushers for nought...
No, no satiety to purify the lure in life.
Look at the moon shaded by a cloud
A hard rocky cloud
Cosmos horizon...
Never has it appeared over the sky
Even ancient times have yet to happen.
A silent mourning overthrows the time
A path continues to the graveyard
And I found a frosted body lying
cuddled with dreams.
A scamp life left behind the snag...
A presence of fervent destiny, a final milestone!
There once was a field, with a tree
On which all of the dogs liked to pee,
And whilst one was urinating,
The other sixteen were waiting,
In a queue- oh so orderly!
Spent Treasure
Julius Caesar desired Brittania
not its tin for soldiers weaponry
but for an island strung with pearls
the rarest and most prized of gems
he would face the channel storms
Caesar’s lust for jewels and gold
with captives sent to plunder banks
shuck icy rivers’ mussel stores
and freeze for gods of vanity
to secure the emperor's fame
a cuirass made of British pearls
he laid on Venus Genetrix
ancestor of the Julian line
holy mother of the Roman state
could tempt a queen into his bed
reserved for the nobility alone
set within crown jewels to come
adornment for Elizabethan gowns
protected now so few remain
it’s rare to find a pearl or humble shell.
On the cliff at the Worm’s Head
High above the horns of the bay
I see the surfers ride great waves
With horses’ manes
That ever fail, but never end
In the strong Atlantic surge
In the estuary at Dartmouth
Where the oyster boats dredge
Turning and drifting in slow shadow dance
Great nets of shells are hauled up
And poured out on to the decks
As I plunge upriver
Tacking along the wending Dart
With bent-puzzle oaks on either side
I hear a sudden hush descend
Upon a lonely river hythe
As time and air, smooth and still
Forever glide, like Mayflies
On cold, clear water
In the seaway by the port
With its unmistakable algal aroma
Of the British seashore
I hear the heavy horn of a freighter
That plies its path
And never sinks, yet ever diminishes
Beyond the waves
And far from the pier of the seaside town
Where sandpipers probe
In spiral casts
I hear the penthal call of the curlew
Like silver flourishes on a black cloud
That never moves, but holds dominion
In the cold morning air.
Sweet one, you are going to shine.
My love will make you feel fine.
The last 18 years will be over and done.
You are going to shine sweet one.
Lay your head on my shoulder.
You’ll outgrow it and be bolder.
I promise little girl, good times ahead.
On my shoulder, lay your head.
You’re no longer a child don’t feel sad.
The mistreatment was really bad.
Your pain makes me feel so wild.
Don’t feel sad you’re no longer a child.
A love like mine you’ve never known.
Sweet tenderness you’ll be shown.
Having you by my side will be a sign.
You’ve never known a love like mine.
It is my plan to satisfy you.
With every thoughtful thing I do.
I’m going to be your man.
To satisfy you, it is my plan.
The sun was burning hot this morn,
but then it poured with rain,
I dashed inside and found a mac...
the sun came out again!
* mac - short for Mackintosh (raincoat)
He’s Irish not Scottish or British
You forget, he’ll get ornery and skittish
He’ll point to his pelt
Start swearing in Celt
With a splash of some Gaelic and Yiddish
Let’s take a journey
To a far off place
To visit a man full
Of many ways to entertain
He’ll teach you some things
About king James
From learning to interacting
You’ll always be excited
May be some vocabulary
But we can’t forget
Beowulf nor Sir Gawin
And the Green Knight
Though many stories
He’ll also let you express through poetry
Though in time you may forget
But Mr.Cole was for sure the best
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