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| Please don't try to advertise products or services in this forum. Thank you. Post or Ask something here in 'Poetry' Poetry SOLITUDEThe pebbles, they rumble beneath my feet I walk the shore and hope to meet Someone on my lonely walk To share a smile To stop and talk But Nobody wants to get involved With a woman once young, who now grows old The wind it rushes over my face That once was alive and full of grace My lips are salty, my mouth is dry I do feel sad, but I wont cry For times before that now have gone I breathe in deep and carry on But all I want on my long walk Is another person to stop and talk For a while Post reply -->London Poetry minnie 10 Jun Poetry OH DEAR!!I broke my ankle today I turned in the garden, Just to say "pardon?" To someone I thought I heard say "A lovely bloom, but out too soon They will never last for long" I fell to the ground Heard a cracking sound Oh No!! Its me Lateral Malleosus! "There!" I did say "Will you please go away" "You're making my eyes not focus!!" The truth is you see As I wait in A and E I shouldnt have listened at all For, I wouldn't have turned And all that I learned Was, to be nosey - could end in a fall!!! Post reply -->London Poetry minniesinnamon@yahoo.co.uk 26 Jun Poetry Tropical Cherry TreeI can imagine being a tropical cherry tree Insecure and unloved at birth, Weak textured wood Created few nests and shadows. My branch crashes Like an old man's bone In any extra burdens of life, Unwanted plants hold onto me Like blood sucking parasites. A monsoon of love blossoms my fruit Aubergine, ripe and divine, If you treat me with a dry summer I am bitter like new wine. Roots of mine grab muddy soil Not afraid of any fights, In thousands of ways life hurts me I will cling to my values, tight. I love and am happy to see The cherry tree in me, And always wonder, Can you see The tree in me? Mail-me 16/04/09 Post reply -->London Poetry Jannatul Shammi 16 Apr Poetry celeste Mail-me The sky, filled with rubies, jades and diamonds. Each ruby scintillated joy, Each jade glistened happiness While the pretty diamonds gleamed like tiny moons. At times, comets' tails inked Celeste with indigo To cover the stains, left from myriads of days ago. The sky, filled with flamboyant gems, Yearning to please the fussy godesses; Heaven, now, a garden of the spirits, Welcomed the souls of the sinners and the righteous. Mail Me Post reply -->London Poetry tri ngoc tran(tt5555) 30 Jan Poetry The Butchers Cut of LambI set my gaze She's yet to notice For a long time now Not on her lips But lower Down beneath Her warm and pearly milky teeth My gaze is not settled on the flash of breast she offers me Though I take pleasure in fresh flesh My eyes are intent upon her neck. Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry S. Levene 12 Jan PoetryBobble hat on with big warm gloves Wrapped in a coat, wishing it were you Seeing people go by, entwined against the chill Thinking of you and I, wondering if it ever will Be my turn for my heart to melt I wish you knew just how I felt About you An endearing memory But lost in the whirl of the autumn leaves Post reply -->London Poetry minnie 22 Nov | These aren't commercial ads below: they are a rotating selection of postings contributed by MoveThat.com users in the last 24h. |
 | Poetry Maybe SoonAnother week, a month gone by I sit and dream of you and I That fateful day, when you came by My heart did skip And now I cry For times we had, but let drift by Whilst pondering what might have been Always searching, but never seen In my soul the memory to hold Something to cherish as I grow old Post reply -->London Poetry minnie 21 Oct Poetry Essex Poetry FestivalWHETHER you’re a verse virgin or a budding bard, the Essex Poetry Festival guarantees to give you something to wax lyrical about. From Buckhurst Hill to Wivenhoe, and Harlow to Southend-On-Sea, melodic ditties will be ringing in ears as rhyme and rhapsody take over the county. The festival kicks off at Poetrywivenhoe on Friday, September 19, with a reading from Peterloo poet Christine Webb and local writer Joan Taylor, before the colourful montage of spectacles and masterclasses get underway. The Essex Poetry Festival will run until October 25. For more information visit: www.essex-poetry-festival.co.uk Post reply -->London Poetry 11 Sep Poetry poemDosgs & workmen. She expresses her love of life through the joys and friendships that matter to her. A life is not a mere accident, although accidents can happen, they touch and we move on. She likes e.e.cummings as his words playfully drip off the page for her. Out there dogs woof, woof their lungs full on splish-splashy streets, their language farting fully… street workmen dig holes below my dirty window, and with the dogs and workmen I tipsily remain focused on her joys expressed in the world, that pseudobeast beating its brains in sandy streets wet with redstuff. She gave me flowers for love easily, innocently, she gave me love. Post reply -->London Poetry vincent 23 Aug ^ Poetry tipsilyPoetry Ambit Magazine Poets & Uncle Rabbitat Heathcote Pub, 344 Grove Green Road - 8.00 pm Entry: £3 Leytonstone Festival presents an evening of music from Uncle Rabbit with poetry and prose readings from selected writers for Ambit Magazine. Donald Gardner & Naomi Foyle are among those appearing for Ambit. Uncle Rabbit play a quirky mix of improvisation using rock & jazz riffs, and will be joined later in the evening by their special guest, John Ellis, formerly of The Stranglers. Post reply -->London Poetry Noel Taylor 4 Jul ^ Poetry poemthis site seems to have become distinctly underused. The battlefield is drawn. Our artillery is mostly muffled as we take aim in gentle ways, the shells are filled with wit sprinkled with sarcasm for fun. We practice low-level conflict and fire incendiaries at each other that we easily dust ourselves off from. Our warfare is an arena of foolishness and stupidity, we try to gain ground from inert cannons and friendly fire. We charge like fickle soldiers who really don’t want a fight, we say make love not war. We find an armistice is agreed on as I cook and you do the washing up. Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry vincent 17 Aug Poetry She swims in my mind.She swims in my mind She swims to the shores of my mind gentle ripples of her sing a song in the quiet whispers of tenderness floating along my moments of solitude. My wilder currents are animated and gusts are blowing up a storm. Along the water the stillness carries her to me. Her voice invades in heady silence and her soul comes closer to me and mine. Post reply -->London Poetry Vincent 10 May Poetry 1973Music man Strumming life away With blistered fingers, poking out of black gloves. And dirty nails, making love to the guitar strings. Like each touch is the first, wishing the moment would last forever. Those same half closed eyes The same lost in a daydream smile, that he had back in 1973 When he used to fill concert halls And people sat in awe His name in lights, and on ticket stubs. Back when someone cared Even if it was for the wrong reasons And now he plays here As the world walks by And I feel bad Because his music touches me But I never dropped anything in his hat I pretended I didn’t see him As I rushed by 2008 Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry Mark Taynton 3 May Poetry The visit of a warlord.The winged gods fly into our boats with the agility of mountain goats a hovering army with their leader always talking to us about his reader and his ideas and justifying death and if you look carefully at the breath they cast no hardy shadow now they have travelled into the dust - pow! and taken their soul into the abyss I'm glad we've given them the miss. Post reply -->London Poetry Roland Butter 18 Apr Poetry De rireJ'ai pensé à la vie Et j'ai vu que vous Reviennent à l'attaque L'autre avec talent Supérieur Et, ce faisant, Attaqué vous-même. Post reply -->London Poetry Roger Mee-Slowlee 15 Apr ^ Poetry^ PoetryPoetry lolI thought of life and saw only you coming back to attack other's with superior talent and in doing so, attacked yourself. Post reply -->London Poetry Louise 14 Apr Poetry Steganopoiiseos ocean space.Now ocean space. Space is the area around the country Available at the end lost. Palirroiaki strength and Marching Holiday sand conceal dangerous Flaques water, and less than short-term measures -- People are wrong. Supply reduction Klapei peoples lips, In the short period between compassion An empty sometimes kissing It tracks Habib in the mouth. Ocean has always cliché Lost hope in people, is not it? It is very easy to lose people in the world What is the history of the illegality and facilities Ploutos personenfreizügigkeit drowned in the floods. Post reply -->London Poetry Roger Mee-Slowlee 12 Apr Poetry The far ocean space.The far ocean space. A far ocean space is no place to find each other lost. Tidal tensions and creeping holiday sands hide dangerous puddles, smaller than short steps between which people are misplaced. Within the narrowing width of peoples stolen lips, in between short kindnesses of empty paper kisses sometimes no imprint is left on the lover’s mouth. An ocean has always been a cliché of lost hope and lost people has it not? It is too easy to lose someone in the world which conceals bodies and histories drowned in the filled tidal stream of people. Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry vincent 11 Apr Poetry Original Poetry and comedy workshop meet upInterested in writing comedy or peotry or doing it already and feeling ratehr alone...Want support, friendly constructive criticism and a laugh....Come along to the original comedy and poetry writing group.. We meet every 2nd and 4th Wednesday of the Month at 7pm at Garfield Community Centre, Garfield Road, London, SW11. Nearest tube is Clapham Common...Nearest overhead train is Clapham Junction or Queenstown Road. Email Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry Rachel 9 Apr Poetry In each others sun.In each other’s sun She and I staggered thoughtfully, without fight time, thinking thoughts together. She and I affirm and move obstacles, invisible obstacles serenely. She is established, sleeps when I am still awake. My bed is warm, a flower of warmth, the petals of which have wandered often but now are still. She is my garden growing with ease. I think I am her soil sometimes but she slowly radiates me and I am cultivated. We are each other’s sun. Post reply -->London Poetry Vincent 29 Mar Poetry An Ode To “What strange hours travelers keep” byWhat if? The internal seeker’s Quest from beneath. Infiltrated, porous , free, Suckling on its fragments of ether Stichomancy, reality an acquired taste. What if?.. I asked 63336.. Define the desirable. Cut out the cryogenics. Soul so bountiful, Pliable like the perception of freedom. What if? Does she truly seek? Or perhaps just strange . Like her sister’s Bestfriend De noted. Loquacious, salubrious, Unbounded, Engaging they cry, What if? this is how Ones Aries energy must cascade, Down their own, Down trodden and Lively walls Forever too fast for infinity. Post reply -->London Poetry Holly 27 Mar Poetry A heartshaped stoneA heart-shaped stone. On my pillow rests a heart-shaped stone The rolling waters, strong piercing waters pulling and pushing Lady moon’s desires and Father Earth’s noisy quarrels gave slow accident to the complex body line you’d placed carefully here. The much of nature-time swirls without complaints, wrestled chattering stones, the slate and the flint, the shingle and shell in blended shimmering beauty. The life and death of the fisherman’s catch ploughing the darkness for an abundant one when the form was being sculpted. You worked the beach and picked up this form, which indent’s my pillow, poised and peaceful. Sinking into the feathers its lies peacefully, like a tranquil afternoon at rest. Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry Vincent 11 Mar Poetry and Prose Writing Group central LondonIf you are a creative writer, whether as a hobby or a more serious pursuit, and regardless of the genre in which you write, our creative writing group may appeal to you. Our meetings act as a platform for the sharing of ideas in a comfortable environment with supportive people. Everyone is encouraged to bring some of their own creative work to read aloud to the group. People will then have an opportunity to share their ideas on what they have heard, providing constructive feedback the writer can take with them in order to further develop their writing and the inspiration with which to do so. We have exclusive hire of a comfortable and private pub dining room in central London and next meeting is in the evening of Monday April 7th. If you'd like to join us, please Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry Ali 2 Mar Poetry London VoicesA small but perfectly formed poetry group meet to read their latest offering, to discuss and enjoy each other's company. This is a group of mature adults who enjoy the company of other's and have a passion for verse of all kinds. We invite you to come along and share your poetic thoughts and musings. The next meeting is on 29 Feb at the Lamb public house, Lambs Conduit Street, London WC1 on the 1st floor. If you have any friendly questions please email... Mail-me Post reply -->London Poetry vincent 28 Feb Poetry CarolPoetry The art...The art of my age. The art has transitioned enough. The narrative has broken up enough. The wit has cascaded into ideology. The tradition has become lost. The irony has become bloated. The modern has become conventional. The important voice is incarcerated. The display is style. The magpie is traditional. The art is stolen. The now is not original. It has all become a verbal opera. The epiphany is a lost cause. The artist has returned to the cave. Post reply -->London Poetry Vincent 2 Feb ^ Poetry The Art fanHello, I practise art, though I am not an artist. Your poetry really touched me, I found it really struck a chord with me. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me quote it perhaps to go on a website that I am making? If so, who should I attribute it to? Thanks for sharing Carol Post reply -->London Poetry 4 Feb |