Poetry

Poetry

It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care to act,
it starts when you do it again after they said no,
it starts when you say we and know who you mean,
and each day you mean one more.

Marge Piercy

£77 per hour
Monday, 24 June 2019 10:27

£77 per hour

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in Poetry
£77 per hour by Becky Bone nine thousand two hundred and fifty9250pounds per year (1 year = 20 weeks) four hundred and sixty two pounds and fifty pence per weekdivided by6 hours contact time per week £77 per hour I was pretty good at maths natural like got a C…
Sitting Ducks
Sunday, 16 June 2019 15:59

Sitting Ducks

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in Poetry
Sitting ducks by Steve Griffiths As we went about our humdrum little tasksthey had us in crosshairs,observing our tastes, worming into our whims, our victimhood as it was forming. The aim of the barrel waveredin a human hand, exaggerating difference,upping the contrast in the rangefinder to insistent.Just one bullet, a…
The Restoration
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Monday, 03 June 2019 13:53

The Restoration

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The Restoration by Kevin Higgins Election results tumble in,like pinstriped clumps of hairy baconbeing lowered via giant mechanical arminto a fizzing Jacuzzito be congratulated by the mediawho have long since discarded their G-strings. Things as they used to behave been pasted back together,or almost, like a vase broken during an…
Christ is a communist and God is a miner: ‘The Sair Road’ by William Hershaw
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Friday, 31 May 2019 16:03

Christ is a communist and God is a miner: ‘The Sair Road’ by William Hershaw

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Jim Aitken reviews The Sair Road, by Willie Hershaw. The header image and all others in this review are by Les McConnell, the illustrator Far from creating any ‘gude and godlie’ kingdom in Scotland as a result of the Reformation there in 1560, by the time of Robert Burns (1759-96)…
Look at me, lingering outside this murdered church
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Friday, 31 May 2019 15:56

Look at me, lingering outside this murdered church

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Look at me, lingering outside this murdered church by Jane Burn Open your lids, you coal-smut, bitter thing. Undraw the blindthat your plunged doom has set in the lead of your eyes.Too many years of chimneys, licking their filth on your bricks.Nobody comes to pluck at your weeds. Look at…
Joe Hill Walks This Factory Floor
Sunday, 26 May 2019 19:43

Joe Hill Walks This Factory Floor

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Joe Hill Walks This Factory Floor by Fred Voss I remember working a union shop decades agothe way we stooda little tallerwalked by a supervisor with our chin and chest stuck outa little furtherwe owned the concrete floorgrabbed the handles to our machines because we wanted to not because we…
Green Shadows
Wednesday, 15 May 2019 16:20

Green Shadows

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Green Shadows by William Hershaw Poor old Johnny Clare!Driven mad by Society, protected by Poetry,Flapping like an owl, daftman on the roadBetween London and The Bluebell Inn.You’d grown up with the birdsAnd knew their language off pat.Even in the asylum of ageThe Corncrake and Ring OuzelWere bringing you news:How Keats…
This poem has a title
Tuesday, 14 May 2019 10:40

This poem has a title

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This Poem has a Title by Lisa Kelly This poem must take medication in order to be read at any future event. It has been found that this poem has an unfair natural advantage which makes it stand out at festivals and open mic spots, and streak ahead of its…
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