Butchers Poems - Poems about Butchers

Poor Blue. Written about a visit to the butchers with my mum, in Liverpool, when I was a child Poor Blue To butchers I went With mother to spend Some money on meat for the week For two days a week My mother cooked meat, Boiled tatties, with carrots and peas This did coincide With baths as child As meat and a bath...

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(The Lamb) My lungs empty, no longer inflate This timid mind, cannot feel hate I’m so confused don’t understand money grazing the fields was my milk and honey Flails my skin, keeps everything tight Slices out my heart, this very night I’m terrified here without a clue Helpless and lost but what can I do Gathers me...

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Breast with me, beating like a bird. In our moment all hope soared with a fragrant moon and kissing was the mixing of culture. At these depths I felt what tore at the threads of your music. I met the guns of El Salvador. I touched the pallid flesh of your dead riveted friends. I hosted your nightmare of butchers. Your fingers are refined for the making of music. Your thumbs are peasants, ready for revolution. Published Black...

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BUTCHER’S PAPER population growth, wrapped in butcher’s paper, blossoming beautifully eyes dot the vainglorious poppies — bloodshot with remembrance 6/1/2018 Silent One’s When one line is not enough 33 syllables...

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BOMBERS AND BUTCHERS Don't worry little girl, you need not cry, we know your tears, and feel them every one and all too well, though many more will die, you will go home again, it is not gone, but merely re-arranged, or burned at most, your place called home still thrives for you one day to dream and build again, a fence,...

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“The Butcher’s Apron,” often called, My countries flag, I am appalled, For Union Jack, inspiring cloth, Once doused the world in bloody froth That’s not to say, it’s all been bad, It did produce my mum and dad, and now I’m here, produced by them; I produced A son called Shem And when we go to sad parades, the flag Flies high,...

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I was a Butchers boy. I delivered peoples meat. I went round on a bicycle to save my aching feet. Some people liked our Pork Chops, and others they liked Lamb. You even got the customer who didn"t give a damn. The bike it had a basket. Attached above the wheel, and when i went...

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