Long Cuttings Poems

What if you were born in the 1800's?
                           ...

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Dad Revisited- Once More


Last night I sat up in bed and prayed a little longer,
I asked god to send dad back for just one more  day with great fervour.

Dad was waiting for me in...

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(The memories are simple, living the feeling significant)

After conquering Beamsley Beacon due Southwest,
Rombald’s moor stood, while for centuries
within the valley the minute dwellings
of grey stone, brick and muck.
Main waterway, depending on era
town or sailor beck,...

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                       I
  “What in carnation is this?”,
A July sun breaks my winter...

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‘Our House

We bought our house in 1968, for eighteen hundred pounds.

A little terrace in a row, anything bigger was out of our bounds.

It had a loo in the garden, a bath downstairs, three bedrooms.

After a...

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"Ocelots"

It was during that time 
they all decended into the lush fields of poetic madness,
swaying indolently with the other tall green poppies, 
who for once in their small lives basked in noticeability,
their blooming heads bending...

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I stand back and gaze across my wonderful garden, in bloom.
There it lies in the morning sun, with petals glistening from dew.

No one realizes the extent of my love for the rose.  As a...

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We had saved our precious stock of grandpa’s grape
prepared the ground and amended the soil.
After laying out the orchard, we planted cuttings with our own hands.
Fed the young vines with love and creek water
and waited...

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The Cinematic Film Treatment as poetic element 
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Snickering Bastards     

Two chattering ravens narrate a tale of blind revolution and seedy redemption, as we follow a Raisinseed V9.003, the latest hermaphrodite...

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At Once Into Blind Empty Space, At Once Into Her Arms



How can it be
Something so unwittingly described
Can break me
Remake me
Turn me to the sorriest of fates
And still fill my heart
With this happiness of late

How can...

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Dad Revisited

RIP 1924-2015


Last night I sat up in bed and prayed a little longer,
I asked god to send dad back for just one more  day with great fervour.

Dad was waiting for me in the...

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FICTIONAL EMOTIVE WRITE

Since I was a tiny baby I was brought up by my grandparents and had a very happy childhood. I knew that they were not my real parents but they gave me such...

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One For The Sports Writer

When young kids achieve successes in competitions...
Parents, they bubble with pride and hanker for some recognition...

Hey, you know something? My kid, he just aced the competition...
Yup, my son (or daughter), he...

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LIFE IN A SUITCASE

Crawling in the loft today, I found the suitcase.
Through a cobweb curtain, beneath a patina of dust
It lay.
Just where it’s lain for twenty years, full of memories of early days.
The suitcase.
The rusting...

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Lay down the spoon and still the hand that shakes
the smell of cooking mixed with that of fear
eyes reddened, wide, haunted expression make
await a fury fuelled by drugs and beer.
Self worth crushed long ago by...

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"Simon Edy, known as Old Simon, (1709-18 May 1783) was a London beggar who may have served as an inspiration for a popular nursery rhyme. He lived in a derelict "Rats' Castle" in the rookery...

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Old magazines, pictures that pose;
Junk cluttering, ready-to-throw;
Stray offerings for scrapbook close;
I'm selecting new collage flow.

Flip each page here, tear picture pacts;
A nice neat stack, stray page with poise;
Beauty that steers, pieces of tact;
Sift pile and...

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T'was not about the Fire 
That Burn the Bush but would not consume 
T'was about the Bush that Hosted God. 

T'was not about the Ark 
That killed the one that gave it Support
But Blessed to...

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Things for me start here,
In the very beauty of a blank white page
To the dark sky of glittering stars
And in between the ladder of tiny surprises.

The watercolour paintings which gave me joy,
The little piggy bank...

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ALONE AT THE HOLOCAUST MUSEUM

rose early in the morning,
indulged in a lovely quiche lorraine,
ventured out

                    ...

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They mowed the grass the day before,
The cuttings strewn upon the floor,
I sat upon the bench and saw
	The cricket pitch.

The men in white with willow bats
And padded knees and ice-cream hats,
The splitting stumps and yelled...

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Against the side fence,
four long planks of wood
ascended like steps supported
on pillars of old red bricks 
serving as a stand 
for my Grandmother's collection 
of potted plants.
Cuttings from exotic species gifted
by friends, passed down family...

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Another walking notes half poem

What  a   very nice     garden  indeed
Fresh       top soil,         ...

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Summer times are spent in the orchard of apples and pears
That old wooden rope swing; all frayed, from over the years

Hazy days in the summer house, watching the children play
Puppy dogs running around chasing the...

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Fifty years ago...the age of self-reflection

Hollow crumbs, shadows of proud vestiges
As minneapolis' jim crow vanished slowly,
Painfully, no longer admired at country club
Cocktail parties celebrating ribbon-cuttings

My family was inside and unaware of history 
Working class achievement,
...

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