The Poetry Website

(Haiku)

2012-03-06T19:55:00.001Z

Lifes' journey; starts and
ends in the same way for us all -
Choose lifes' path with care!

My Turn

2012-02-28T19:33:00.002Z

I hear harsh man-made lighting over the rustling of newspapers,
in the waiting room magazines we wouldn't normally read are read,
as staff pop-in and out
in pink 'pyjamas',
sometimes blue or green.
Faces look up in hope...
"my turn?" they say.
No windows, no view, no breeze,
it could be anywhere,
any day,
or any time of day.

Eyeballs track staff - "my turn!"

A Message to John Logie Baird

2012-02-25T20:13:00.004Z

Mediocrity for charity,

crap for a good cause.

not my idea of entertainment,

probably not yours!

A 'nobody' with his mother,

there on a 'nothing' show,

hosted by an aging 'has-been'

in; for his final go.

Fuck off with your tabloid TV!

Your bland; moronic tripe!

I really don't care for 'celebrity'

...and all the fucking hype!

John Logie-Baird: For your attention.

They've really fucked up - your great invention!

Eighty Summers

2012-02-19T16:26:00.000Z

The eighty days of summers past
when summer days forever last
with eighty days; no reason, rhyme
which ones of eighty tress to climb?
Or eighty trains; which one to take?
Bikes, adventures, dens to make.
Grans and Grandads; eighty teas
eighty bread and butters; please!
Eighty summers long and hot
those hazy summers; now forgot.
Now eighty summers further on -
where have eighty summers gone?

Pathway

2012-02-10T19:12:00.000Z

A pathway, littered with leaves, dappled with light; like shade but not shade, dark but not dark. Water chattering from fountains, ducks chasing droplets, ripples chasing ripples, leaves bobbing, shadows drift, from trees, stretching fingers across the disturbed surface. Gravel crunching, popping under heavy tread. Snaking path, disappearing, inviting discovery. The hidden vistas - there; but not there, the huge sweeping lawns, brush the edge of lakes, clean crisp and manacured, carpet like lawns, and huge skies mirrored.
Driveways from horizon to horizon all dotted 'round with structures scattered here and there - everywhere.

A Shakespearean Poem

2012-02-08T20:14:00.002Z

Seek wilt thou words fertile,
beasts tremble.
These wicked fish confined on't pinched isle,
unwillingly confined 'neath brine pits ancient.
Thou art filthy natives,
thine foul breath,
roars violently,

Dids't thou mother breath such death,
for plague ist lesson taught hard.
Doth light mine language charm?
Thou art lame,
thou whilst thine purpose endowed
speak therefore o'er thine God
to thine strange,
dead,
England

Classroom Excuses

2012-01-31T14:15:00.001Z

Didn't know what time it was sir,
didn't hear the bell.
Couldn't find my books and pens sir,
Couldn't care as well!

Didn't know what day it was sir
Didn't have a clue.
Couldn't find my personal planner sir
Couldn't remember - true!

Didn't know the name of the school sir
Didn't know the address.
Couldn't remember not nothin' sir
Couldn't; what a mess!

Thinking about my choice of career sir,
...didn't really try!
Shouldn't 'ave bin a teacher sir
...I'm gonna resign - good-bye!

My Soul Drifts Away (Clutching your letter) - a WWI Poem

2012-01-29T16:17:00.002Z

I enter my carriage
and take to my seat
tightly clutching your letter -
as the train pulls away.

What reason for leaving,
what passion within me?
Still clutching your letter
my heart's calling "stay!"

What war and whose battle,
whose King and whose country? -
Still clutching your letter
now a soldier; today
in uniform resplendent
a riffle beside me -
still clutching your letter
today is the day.

For in trenches of mud
and with death all around me -
still clutching your letter
just part of the affray
with the emeny waiting
a people unknown to me -
still clutching your letter
to heavan I pray,
then over the top
and forward to victory! -
Still clutching your letter
there dead I will lay.

Alone in the chaos
the battle ignored me,
still clutching your letter
my soul drifts away.

Autumn (Windy Autumn)

2012-01-16T19:08:00.000Z

Autumn,
windy autumn,
a windy, windy day.
Autumn leaves chase down autumn streets,
autumn, windy autumn.

This autumn is a 'to the bone' cold,
a cutting slashing cold.
Layered thick 'neath man-made fibres,
warm; but for your nose,
your toes could be someone else's
and your fingers have stopped responding!.
This windy day came from way out east,
far, far east
where windy autumn days come from
slashing leaves from trees
wiping clean the pavements,
tearing down the memory of summer

Autumn clean -
a cleaning spree for winters approach!

Progress

2012-01-13T20:34:00.001Z

Progress progression, progressive,
change, take time to grow, to progress.
If six were killed yesterday
and five died today...
is that progress?
Smile, maybe progress is nothing! One today and two tomorrow,
perhaps progress is nothing at all.

Feel progress! Join a progressive movement Take time to progess!
Progression is more in the future than the past provided,
less in the future of what troubled your past.
To change is to progress.
Progress forward with your history in tow

Take time to progress, Progress and grow

Distant Stare

2012-01-11T14:13:00.001Z

Distance,
distant distance.
Vacant,
the visual vacated.
Empty stare
here here - not there there.

Where, were, you, when, you, were, there?
Where are you now?
A face facing forward
Facing nothing
Facing nowhere
A nothing face
Nowhere facing

re engage recollect
Return and reapply

A Man In a White Coat

2012-01-08T20:47:00.001Z

A little voice in my head keeps telling me I'm not normal,
"you're not normal!"
To agree with the voice would make me some kind of nutter!
Anyway; who wants to be normal?
Who wants to be in 'that club?'
And, who couldn't do with a few minutes a week in front of a shrink anyway!
You could always talk to the voice in your head,
but that wouldn't help -
anyway they'd call you a nutter,
the voices in your head I mean.
Now; talking to a man in a white coat,
I mean, the man is wearing a white,
not you wearing a white coat and talking...
that makes you a bit more normal!
Its funny that - isn't it!

Explosion in Dictionary Factory

2011-12-25T21:13:00.001Z

Blossom pink in rose petal,
toothpaste - cup.
Designer taps, hot and cold,
kills 99% of germs -
sanitary towel, dressing gown,
waste bin mouth-wash.
Foot-scrubber from white tiled wall,
in an air-freshener existence,
lit by an 11 watt low energy light-bulb
the extractor fan of condensation,
clad in dust.
Shower-head green painted toe-nails,
drip, drip, drip,
into the measuring jug,
used for rinsing hair.
Fine needle-point forest picture,
sat above white toilet cistern -
moist baby-wipe hell.
The shaving foam sounds distant,
A clean liquid soap dispenser

The dictionary factory must have exploded -
I catch a word or two.
A phrase - or seven, I think
as they land on my note pad,
writing; marking their place -
toilet brush, sink plunger, cotton bud.

It must have been the BATHROOM SECTION which went up in flames tonight - laxative, pain relief

Wife reminds me about,
about the purchase - unwise,
of a house - it's location so close
to the factory now demolished -
possible idea for a poem!

Mmmmm, a poem!

"Explosion in a Dictionary Factory"
by Andy Thompson

Winter Solstice

2011-12-22T11:45:00.001Z

Buzzard on telegraph pole colours; 'winter-solstice' grey skies.
Walking dogs on; raincoat, walking-boot, beaches,
all wrapped against nature -
which is asleep and simply waiting for the season of rebirth,
of hope,
renewal,

and beginning.

From this point onwards feel more life from the sun,
Feel more life in your heart and more life in your soul!

Consumerism Uncontrolled!

2011-12-19T19:57:00.000Z

Yet again - rain,
shopping 'til dropping
christmas shop hopping.

Spending never ending
plas-tic ben-ding,
bags; choc-a-block,
a clock - race,
quick festive embrace,
weighed-down wear a frown,
up - and - down - town,
all merry and replete,
got aching feet?

Succumb to toy drum -
buy flashing bow-tie - why?
Forget wet and cold -
Everything's red and gold!

Consumerism uncontrolled.

Please don't...

2011-12-14T16:42:00.001Z

Don't poke your manager with a pen
say he,s seeing 'her' again,
Imply his mother is a hoare,
chain y'bike to 'is office door.

Don't say you like your old boss better
in an email or a letter,
some things are better off not said,
like you wanting him found dead,
or you wishing he would leave -
very soon, like Xmas eve!

Please don't mention the strange smell,
say you hope he rots in hell,
talk about his big bald head,
and that you bet he,s crap in bed.

Please don't call him a fat slob,
he,s really doing a good job,
and anyway I've never met a...
member of staff who could do better!

What use is a pen that wont write?

2011-12-13T19:19:00.001Z

What use is a pen that wont write?
I could scoop out the insides and use it as a drinking straw...
No?
What use is a pen that wont write when I have a poem in my head,
knocking on the inside of my skull shouting
"Write me down! Write - me - down!"
But if my pen wont write then how can I,
and this poem might be the one!
Ya know, the one that makes me famous - makes me rich!
...oooh! I could retire!
I could go to every poetry reading and not have to get up the next day to go to work!
But my pen wont write,
What use is a pen that wont write?
How can I ever retire,
if my pen wont write!
Its not right,
my pen not writing,
its not right,
its not fair!
My pen wont write,
What use is a pen that wont write!!

(untitled)

2011-12-11T20:41:00.001Z

How can we trust our sences?
Is what I see what you see?
Is what I hear what you hear?
I think not!
My emotions are not your emotions,
I do not feel things the way you do -
for I am me and you -
you may not even be there!

The fine line between genius and madness is easy crossed.
so what is madness?
Is madness the darkness which sometimes takes me,
to a place no-one should ever be taken?
Isn,t that a kind of madness?

Surely this crazy world man has made for himself must be a kind of madness,
a kind of dark folly,
an action; which once done,
cannot be undone.
Who would create such a place except one taken by a madness,
one in a darkness -
like the darkness which sometimes takes me.

Dark, Empty and Cold

2011-12-10T17:47:00.001Z

In December at 5pm it,s dark, empty and cold.
It,s dark empty and cold here in Seaton.
The beach; which in summer is full with tourists; playing,
is now dark empty and cold.
Behind a blanket of cloud,
the full moon hides,
dark, empty and cold.
No horizon - land and sea and sky as one,
dark and empty and cold.
Passers by walk briskly, wrapped up against -
the dark, empty and cold -
hurrying to the warmth,
of mind body and soul,
away from the dark,
the emptiness,
and the cold.

Listen Very Hard

2011-12-08T19:27:00.001Z

Silence - rare like diamonds - gold - happiness.
You can't buy silence online
"Two tins of nothing at all please! - What was that?"
I thought I heard myself think.
The 21st century stopped for a second,
all those TV's and radios
the cars and planes,
just for a second - stopped.

And there I was - me!
"Hello..." - too late!
The 21st century kicked in again!
Kicked in; and I was gone!
Like a chance meeting,
never to be repeated.
I was gone,
lost under the din that is our lives today.

I'm sure I'm still there - me, in amongst it all -
and I'm sure I will get another chance to hear myself.
I guess I'll just have to be patient - or listen very hard!

Inviting Another Autumn In

2011-12-07T17:07:00.001Z

Autumn passed,
another year near its end
heralding in a sun that doesn,t warm,
yet pleases my face.
The seasons; like the pages of a much-loved novel
turn too fast and are soon gone;
Over,
Read.
The sounds of winter are near,
festive sounds of Christmas fill the air,
thoughts turn to spring.
Daffodils sleep through January,
waiting, waiting, waiting,
waiting for springs warm touch and another summer.

Yellow is the colour of spring,
And white
and pink
and blue.
Pack away the cold dark memories,
banish all signs of winter passed,
warm yourself on thoughts of summer.
Another summer,
another summer passing,
inviting another autumn in.

Rush Hour Dawn

2011-12-04T19:42:00.001Z

Rush hour dawn - the 8 o'clock yawn!
Crawl - all - in a queue - you
me, again - rain!
today - tomorrow
Sorrow, the work day blues
loose - yourself
just one in the crowd,
not allowed - any me -
BREAK FREE!

A Crisp Packet

2011-12-04T19:34:00.001Z

A crisp packet - what a racket!
A lunch - with a crunch!
In a bag - with a snag!
It's so loud - like a crowd;
at a game - all shouting the same;
word - ever heard;
a rocket taking off?
Well when ever you scoff...
Its like Concord going past,
a hand grenade blast.
It's just potato sliced thin,
yet makes such din!

And the packet - it's just a shroud,
but is so bloody loud!
If I want extra crunch - whilst having my lunch
If I need extra sound - I'm sure it can be found,
I could sit and chew a door - bang my head on the floor...

Oh! Don't worry, I'm not proud
Anyway it's not as loud,
as a crisp packet - WHAT A RACKET!!

I Dreamt Of A Dress (A hecklers revenge)

2011-11-25T16:14:00.001Z

I dreamt of dress in startling white;
like light from on high, my gaze it bought

(I a very good start to a poem I thought... then)

"Tosser!" came the curt critique,
the crowd that night were far from chic!

"Your fuckin' meter's just not right...
in fact your poem's a load of shite!
I don't scan proper, it don't rhyme
being here's a waste of time!
There's a shakespere play on radio free,
we're off 'ome, me mate and me!"

So off they flounced, I carried on...

An angel - held in air as one...

"Anyway that Shakespere bloke..."
the oaf popped back for just one poke
at my attempt to match the bard,
a task he thought "'t will be fuckin' 'ard,
see Shakespere really knew his craft,
When I heard yours I really laughed!..."

It was then I felt my hackles rise,
my poem dismantled, before my eyes,
by this rough nail, in rags before...
well I'd love to see him take to the floor!
The gauntlet there and then laid down

"Come forth sir and take my crown!"

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

...I picked up my coat and was on my way!

(Haiku)

2011-11-18T18:43:00.001Z

Serendipity
A happy accident that
fits in a haiku!