Today's poet

[Hes]

Uncle Jim

I only knew him as an old man,
in old, worn out suits and overcoats.
He had spent the worst part of his
life working down the pit. In the
end it was the dust that had him.

I only knew him as an old man,
who kept peardrops in the pockets
of his overcoats, who had spent the
best part of his life down the pub,
supping all day at halfpints.

I only really knew him as an old
man who waited beside a lampost, to
give me peardrops from the pockets
of his overcoat which were always
covered in lint.

First class NDubya.

[Hes]

I'm up with the larks
keeping company with owls
butterflies flapping

Took a day out from my punishing schedule to recce a race. Got lost, muddy and cold but felt better for it. My absence from the thread is due to having to meet all deadlines but the end is in sight, well, a hiatus anyway. Looking forward to sleeping and eating properly again.

[Mossdog]

Don't Diss The Demi-God.

Now then Mossdog you're tryin to diss me,
I can't believe your weak literacy,
I'm a demi-god from ancient greece,
Your a smelly dog with a shaggy fleece.

You know all the ladies love me the most,
All you do is pee up a lamp post,
So give in now to the superior rap,
And make sure you take a baggy when you do a crap.

Oh i know, yes i know that my rap is best,
All you sucker fell runner mc's put me to the test,
As i've proven with Mossdog you will see that you weak,
No one on here can break my streak.

So Freckle you have seen now who is best,
Mossdog can go get his leash instead of being a pest,
I defeated him with consumate ease,
You'll never find another rapper like Herakles.

By Herakles.

Now that's really underhand, sneaking in the cue words 'freckle' and 'leash' in the same verse. You just know that springs my pavlov conditioning in play and now I've gone all submissive, rolling on my back- drat

[Mossdog]

to mc's Herakles and mossdog

Just put a donk on it!

What's a donk? Where can I get one? Does everyone else have one?

[Nathaniel Lee]

I am not sure what definition of Donk N-Dubya is using. It could be a ladies large posterior or possibly old school car with hydraulic suspension. Either way quite confused.

[freckle]

I am not sure what definition of Donk N-Dubya is using. It could be a ladies large posterior or possibly old school car with hydraulic suspension. Either way quite confused.

this is soooooo funny! herakles i loved your rap very clever indeed! ndubya i liked your poem too, funny how by just mentioning pear drops you conjured a feeling of years gone by, great subtlety as ever... i am feeling a tad uninspired, like hes i have loads of deadlines to meet and am bringing work home a lot but i am enjoying the patter on here so thanks all!

[freckle]

I'm up with the larks
keeping company with owls
butterflies flapping

Took a day out from my punishing schedule to recce a race. Got lost, muddy and cold but felt better for it. My absence from the thread is due to having to meet all deadlines but the end is in sight, well, a hiatus anyway. Looking forward to sleeping and eating properly again.

i liked this little haiku and look forward to seeing your butterflies in the flesh!

[freckle]

I wonder what the story was behind this one by angelou.....

Men
When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pause,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.

One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.

Maybe.

[Mossdog]

Three Weeks by Ann Michaels

Three weeks longing, water burning
stone. Three weeks leopard blood
pacing under the loud insomnia of stars.
The weeks voltaic. Weeks of winter
afternoons, darkness half descended.
Howling at distance, ocean
pulling between us, bending time.
Three weeks finding you in me in new places,
luminescent as a tetra in depths,
its neon trail.
Three weeks shipwrecked on this mad island;
twisting aurora of perfumes. Every boundary of body
electrified, every thought hunted down
by memory of touch. Three weeks of open eyes
when you call, your first question,
Did I wake you….

[Mossdog]

ANIMAL LOVE

Rhona McAdam

Tonight I am of the beasts of the backyard.
My face is one of the multitude gazing upwards
at your window; I am one of the rumbling
furred assembly living to twine about your legs
when you step out and among us in the morning.

Tonight I am the wild love running
and rampaging through your flower garden
chasing for the pure speed of it
the small competitors for your favour,
returning happy, panting to wait for you.

Tonight I scratch at your door
behind which you lie sleeping
somewhere in the dark civilized recesses
wherein I would burst in a frenzy of passion
to envelop you in my affection,
the nuzzling, love-thrumming love
of beast for beast