Long Discoloured Poems

I was pushed to write this comparison after reading the poem on Byron by the souper poet Gary Bateman.
Wandering on internet I found the Byron's version of Francesca's words in CANTO V of Dante's Hell...

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Her Life defined by the size
of potatoes in a supermarket trolley.
She opens her battered purse
out of shape from the coppers of life,
viewed with despair from eyes
embedded in the bags of time.

Self-esteem abandoned in discoloured trainers.
Her...

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I was cursed with 
ink intoxicating 
blank canvases 
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales 
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken 
           ebony rose 
in satan's grasp,
kneeling...

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It squeaked as it slowly rolled out the door
Trundled out the rusty gate
Over the sunken wooden bridge 
and onto the sandy sidewalk.
The daily trudge had begun.

Nestled and nurtured within were the lives of her family
And...

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When nylon nights
trade crystal colours 
in the stalls of nimble 
butterfly wings, 
I blossom as an 
irenic origami 
fervently fabricated 
with snowflakes of 
greedy gloom, 
stealing royal violets 
from the smokey estuaries 
flowing beneath the...

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It was like the sun did not rise
and mourning birds sang 
no morning melody.

The heavens were so grey,
pouring like Noah's floods,
preparing me for the storm,
which drowned my heart.

I felt like a butterfly helpless against the...

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"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it..."  
E.E. Cummings

Amber hues kissed twilight's platinum pigments that night,
beckoning ivory pearls to weave patterns of astral flames.
Charm of...

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I always weep for you in the hush of eventide hills.
In their mystical muteness I can hear your heartbeats.
As tears indulge in indigo dusky deepening horizons,
I put my hope in the last morning star which...

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He looks at the mirror and frowns at the image

	‘Is it the glass or my face that lies shattered?’

		Fault lines burrowed into borrowed time

			Tim wonders about censorship and cracks

He sees a crossdresser between sadness and...

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In May two thousand and seven I was on a beach on the sand 
When it was time to leave I noticed, I was missing my gold band
I started digging the sand frantically, my wife...

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This poem was mistakenly deleted my apologies .


Wild, natural, without care you
stand hidden, unnoticed, a secret.
Brambles briars bluebells dance 
Wild flowers grow.
Haunted laughter, echoes of youth,
Carried by the summers breeze, 
Our tomorrow’s and yesterday’s 
Forever...

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The Unrealistically Color Blind Gals and Guys

The guy over the boundary
Across the river must be a fool
To say that without imagery
No poem is a poem
But how will I create an image
Of the good will I...

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When I was young
And felt a little glum
My Mum would cheer me
With a plum.

I began to eat them daily,
Demolishing entire punnets
With aplomb.

How I loved those big, fat,
Red-purple fruit bombs
Juicing between my lips,
Never failing to elicit
A...

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I am a paling star to be washed out
In the dazzling brightness of the arriving dawn
A calendar that ran out of time
A broken guitar with strings loose

I will soon exit out of life
Like a man...

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Written In Beige

Against the bleak bank wall he leans
as the sidewalk moves sideways
across his tangential thoughts.
People pass, the dull parade,
the money-grubbers and hoarders
in their shiny suits that mock
his existence. Sad clouds meld
into a sullen gray...

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on my six

 the village faded in my past
when at last i walked through the gate 
for the final time
neither of us remained the same
as we were in the days of my coming of age
back...

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We, the generation of grand pictures, 
walk through life, bearing unfaithful filters.
Sins, comprehended through biblical scriptures,
fear escapes the team of timid tilters. 

We, the generation of past trauma, 
torn up by those we care mostly...

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I sit and watch those pass by.
Every second, one goes through.
Through what? The gates of death.
All those who go through them, 
They are all so very different,
Of every shape, size, and colour.
Some are wrinkled, used...

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Delicate fingers gripped the slender neck firmly-
after soft, full lips caressed cold, wet flesh desperately-
whilst deep breaths were taken forcefully;
yet suffocated moans and screams pierced discordantly 
heavy silence.

The now despised and trembling cold embrace
lost its...

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The sinful playacting of the leaders insists on
crowing over empty victories,
and words without being versed are cremated
on the despoiled landscape;
Elsewhere, night steps up on every toe and hangs fire.

All roads and lanes want bold footprints,...

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I have an old photograph
It was taken at Wimbledon,
Long, long ago 
It was of dear sweet Yvonne
And she was smiling at me
From an old discoloured print
Yvonne, cute and naive
She had such a sweet face
I recalled...

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They label me black
But that’s inaccurate
I’m just different shades of brown.
I’m looked at with disdain
Yet I’m the original creation
Version 1.0
Made for the harsh terrible world
Out of love and foresight 
Not pale, Not discoloured
Not burnt by...

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This is a difficult time
For us to paint our desires
On unstarched canvasses
For the benefit of those
Who expect masterpieces

Discoloured and faded
Are our once green forests
Where we sowed seeds of dream-poplars
Amongst wet stones and ferns
Our fingers smudged...

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THE YOLK'S ON ME

It was bath time for my twins, I played a little joke
and filled their bathtub with purple dinosaur yolk.
The bathtub discoloured, the yolk was scummy
but in the purple gloop I found a...

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