Time for some new stuff....so I need your ideas in 'The Script' - let's get it on!
As you may be aware (or not!) I shall be entering to become the first ever Portsmouth Poet Laureate... (more hope than reality!!!)
entries have to be in by 21st January 2011, with the results being announced two weeks later....
I shall be entering three poems from my collection on here, plus a new one - related to the city or, as you'll see below, the actual 'competition itself.... thanks to Jennie for her ideas!!! Boo to all of you who haven't voted for your favourites on here!!! Lol X
My Lorry Ate, My Dream...
And so, after many an epoch
this City of mine needs words...
afore so many poets have evoked
and many more ne'er been heard...
but a few weeks from anow
in a strange inexplicable process
such one will be able to lustfully crow
of being, the seeing one in such success
to be the one appointed then anointed
to be the first one meant ever
to be poet laureate of Portsmouth
will probably be more clever than this Trevor...
unless you choose...
A random poet for someone, somewhere
will they read me, should I care
what shall I write?
to bring forth smile or bite
raise angry or slow melt
full of friction or sat svelt
as waiting for an answer
that never arrives
soul wishing to the stars
so high in the night sky
silence in the distance
yet a roar in my ear
reaching from overseas
or sat very close near
a random encounter
with so few words
how many more of them
are yet to be heard
a subtle confession
or silent expression
abandoned and loveless
so close yet so far
this random poem is for whoever you are...
There is ample fresh recognition
spent in truthful self deep cognition
that a fresh start maybe needs an upstart
with words fresh and true from one's heart?
who can espiel, in fantasy and what's real
natural energy with moments openly surreal
any subject expressed, depressed then confessed
or wanted, wained or explained
decanted, insanity, then contained to train
with freedom to give rhythm it's due
an eden with frisson so implicitly true
shared intimacies, compared with intricacy
as one word may be heard but hundreds follow
feed on the feast to sweetly swallow
a temporary fixture, with the pliant elixir
most fluid ambition, wanton drunken inhibition
of the deepest will to be able to share
simple words to fill expressed with loving care...
and I will...
As each word connects with different effects
each different person has a personal version
and writing this way, tho' often for one
attracts another to join in the fun...
a single rhyme with infinite rhythm
a topic chosen for love or forgiven
one aimed to bring a little cheer
may leave another with silent tears...
rarely expected to appeal to all
often read by few if at all
but as long as one
finds something deepfelt within
then poetry continues
to be our worldwide secret sin...
as admission to liking
is rarely heard
and saying you write it
is clearly absurd
but if a line or two can connect
ponder a question, maybe raise intellect
or simply remove a nagging denial
by leaving behind, a warmfelt smile
then every word has been time well spent
and for that reason, I will never relent...!
OH WELL, BETTER LUCK NEXT YEAR! LOL!!!
so back to writing!!!
years may have past
yet we are still in touch
we dance on tenterhooks of time...
you now may be blessed
with child loved and caressed
but I wish that you were mine...
every word that we share
sends me spinning in wanton unrepair
and my heart sinks
when I think
of the miles we're apart...
I wish I was younger
for I've still the hunger
to envelop you to my heart...
thru' heilan quines
flowing rivers and ravines
many a dance and frolic shared...
sky-diving and skinny-dipping
clustered bluster and skirt-a-flippin
you are the one uncompared!
sweet kim, full of vim in totality
and hidden secret warm sensuality
I could never fulfil your desire...
but to keep as a friend
from this time til time ends
you'll always keep me inspired...X
A LONE HERON...
Steathily sat, not yet fat, he'll wait...
pond below, carp aglow, to be ate...
He'll soar and sweep and glide
angler's vision pent to deride
their float now so remote
this heroic heron to catch and gloat
forget about forty pounders
no more kiss-me-quick, playgroundrounders
and as the 'fishermen' sleep -alarmed
the lone heron perchance does sweep becalmed
and gathers the wanted sweet fruit
with one crescented silent swoop
then glide to the waterside
the feast after skill with pride
a hunter in beauty swift
yet still the angler left adrift
Stately halls full of follow the hollow
self loving members so difficult to swallow
so many eyes on the ayes but nay
practised prattle is all that they say
experts in nothing but nothing to espout
spurting then hurting no clue what about
ripping this country at banker's request
sipping all and sundry, draining the rest
dance with the devil for momentary fame
but e'en the demon would be put to shame
by the ignorance and ineptitude so complete
of parliamentary members, our elected elite?
Life is but a circus
as we are all animals mistreated
by the ringmasters
caged, hidden, scared
until let loose under the lights
to be laughed at and derided
whip-cracked, sacked, downtrodden
into the sawdust and excrement below...
entertainment for the rich
pickings? sickening trapeze artists
awaiting the call before the fall
back-broken and soaked in derision
by the clowns who rule
juggling their monied batons
to beat us, mistreat us, no fuss
no thought, sword swallowed...
last gasp fire breathing doused
the big-tops intent now content to lament
remembered smiles now defiled
laughter suppressed, magician confessed
as the frauds we all laud
leading the final bow
into obscurity and pain
just the one circus, but many refrains...
No feathers, no bird-flight
no quills, no write
no tickle or teasing delight...
As the eagle soars above heathered glens
shaded in shadows of sunlit resplends
seeking prey frae above misted shower
silent sagacity in free-form power...
Guilded opacity of purity white
gliding on water with epochral delight
the swan of elegance, power and grace
stalks the waters with beauty apace...
Blackbird calls on spring fed morn
spiders web glistens in dew dressed form
song-birds a flutter, feathers all ruff
tunes a-la-lune, each song off the cuff...
So from each bird of beauty described
a single quill collected and survived
to write the right to right my wrongs
from poetic passage to lyrical longs...
Dipped in ink to travel the mile
scripted to think and unravel a smile
pages of sage or nonsense as written
art of writing, ne'er been so smitten...
Then from the sharp to teasing with grace
A gentle awakening from shoulder to face
stroking then evoking sensation surreal
temptingly unrelenting, to tickled appeal...
Followed by strokes of sheer intensity
across your body fully flows so sensually
each tickle and caress now a moment of heat
a solitary feather leads to passion complete
A PROUD CLOUD...
to pass on
in prominent protuberence...
could only fashion
to ride the cloud
in exultant exhuberence...
enjoy the ride of the lightning bolt
frisson from frizzling enlightened volts
then lay back in the clouds to rest
as the hands of the storm do divest
to evoke, to caress and stroke
sweet soothings, hot movings
liquid inhibitions, fluid heat
from clouded expression to unity complete?
The Messopotamian seven legged, three toed
hairy spotted dust mite...
I came here to tame ya
in deepest Messopotamia
but knew it would never last...
I chased til I begged
but your seven legs
helped you run far too fast...
but then came a plan
so I set out with elan
to capture you once and for all...
I cleared all the dust
with vigourous lust
so your hairs shone from tip to root...
and your spots were no longer hid
and thus your three toes did skid
to a halt, crushed under my boot!
Teardrops into raindrops
falling into life swaps
every moment every droplet
a movement of liquid couplets
shared by two, too many, heated
sauna'd sweat, wooden seated
painted bodies with soothing oils
caressed then blessed intemperate spoils
the minute, indefinite so defining
thoughts so sought whilst reclining
lie back, laid back, on the rack
a while back, craven backed, now so slack
frightened of the tightening
enlightened by some songs to sing
whether the weather is ever apt
together forever in comfort rapt
do you feel the raindrops fall
can you hear the imagination call?
for an investigation to the elation
sensory heights in patient correlation
unity in impunity, lustful explosion
fluid expansion without mutual corrosion
entwined and combined, fluidity of soul
raindrops melt our love, our goal
shoot, score, such amore, to adore?
Kim On The Wing...
a selfless leap
a fall so deep
yet she glides...
to soar and flow
o'er the ground below
air thermals, she rides...
upon such guilded wings
and with arias of beauty to sing
floating angelically above, with love...
til gliding unto land
wings extant, fully expand
fit from sky to earth in silken glove...
...such a blessed caress.
Hankering for miss-chief...
Cotton cloth beclothed frae dampen years
stains ingrained by rampan' lost tears
angel, please don't cry those expressions
e'en when meant wi' smiling confession
for those moments of majesty are no travesty
of time, of life, of love...
feed on the energy of liquid inclination
read with the synergy of languid ovation
pour the fuel to an intimate fire
feast on fantasies of fantastic vision...
ne'er be 'fraid of elastic derision
for no-one can lead you astray
with mind-melded led mutual hurray...
cheer for the charity just once self felt
steer to the parity to bubblingly melt
together, forever, nothing clever...
but the knowledge of past insecurities
now cleansed thru the lens, no impurities
wiped away, swiped astray, as we've sought
clear eyes today, the only way, we ought...
so use the kerchief for soul to cleanse
to fuse the relief our goal to dispense
with tears now dried and forgotten
this moment, once cried, now besotten...
Is dere anybuddy out dere?
Brains I lack, but I've gotta fake six-pack
a tongue as long, as my low slung schl@ng
be here you wimmin' let's get schwimmin'
in my pool of passion, I'm a fool o' fashun
got my pants below my backside
got my brain even lower, d'ya wanna ride,
don't glower, cos that's just real life
innit doll? you gonna swoll? ... this!
scuse me, first I need ta p!zss
too drunk ta fink, to sad- too right
neva goona be a babe delight
but here I'll post a two line a begging
cos i'm not that really smeggin'
but in this world of names funny an' fake
I'm just another cherried cream cake...
So here I sit astride
this fence, just for the ride?
no, it's because I can't decide
whether to slip or slide...
I could fall into the nettles left
and end up being sore and bereft
or by slipping to the right
fall into a fragrant delight...
I could still lapse
by hanging onto the fence-panel?
but regain my balance
without need of aid or ambulance
or even a sweet cooling flannel...
and whilst sat a fence-sitting
just enjoy the timbers not splitting
so to take in the views
of sunbathing babes to peruse
so how could I refuse a splinter
but be it in summer, not in winter!
I am fully surround
clasped and bound
within these metal fences...
I have no escape
tied and taped
with sin, each of the poetical senses...
my aromatic senses now sawn
each lustful rose resplendent with thorns
to stab at my heart now torn
to die in defence
astride the fence
a crown of barbed-wire
cutting and cleaving
lost all believing
as my life-blood spills over
draining crimson over clover
thus I wain
never to live again...
until your kiss so pure
such an aspirational cure
feeds my soul, beholden
reads my goals, be golden
as to lift from my slumber
in elegant controlled number
uplifting and free
from sifting the seeds
of a dream now sown
now I'm never alone...
and as your passion invigorates
my fuel is fed and rigor is spate
I live now to love and enthuse
I live now to forget the abuse
with my body rapt, my mind enwrapped
with you, without being fenced in
we now can begin to love sin
release the shackles and wires
open our deep burning fires
no longer just a game
we burn totally a-flame
and the embers remembered from the fire
will lead us to the way we aspire!
With many a whistle and chack
a fieldfare never lacks
a song or a whitter-in the garden...
with constrained vocal prolification
and soothing intricate enunciation
when singing so ringing without pardon...
joyous expression in nuptual confession
but always there with a warning
a thrushing in a flushing
adorable in its gushing
but the song is never of mourning...
through every season, a joy of reason
espouts from this songbirds call
and watching it from close point
will never ever disappoint
one of the greatest voices of all!
If the happenstance
of a brief romance
had turned out another way...
would you be you
or would someone new
be here, be reading this, today?
If things had changed
lifes moments rearranged
where would you be now?
would you be in clover
or just sat on the sofa
wondering what, why or how?
If that single meeting
however brief or fleeting
had turned into something more...
would you change a thing
to make your heart sing
with someone you could've adored?
So if you look back
is there something you lack
did you miss something to suit ya?
There may be some regrets
but be honest, never fret
look only to your own future.
Late autumn trees, shivering in young wintry
breeze, each redleaf stripped from the branch
of its life, left to swirl in multi-coloured
strife, plucked from familiar security, now
swirling and dancing with impunity, but
without choice, their voice now smothered by
a northern wind, that collects the lost
bodies, never to rescind, seemingly in
freedom but never in control, ripped from the
trees that now bare their soul, the last
moments of life spent flying around, before
the final fall to frozen hard ground, still
to exist as food for the soil, a memory of
dying smiles after all the years toil...
A barefoot contessa with confessions to tell
stepping silently through a green-sward fell
fresh dew anew tingling on tender toes
breaths so few mingling with slender repose
silken footsteps, wilting moss beneath
open hearted regrets, tilting to bequeath
need to explain, need to explore
leading a crescendo rising from forest floor
velvet footprints now treading deep
revolving imprints in spinnings so deep
many a tale to be told or lost
heels now dug in, but at what cost?
so bury the past and shout it out loud
ferry the last of the doubts that crowd
your mind now unmuddied, unlike your feet
natural green shoes with confidence complete
and the spikes that hurt your mind once before...
are now the stilettoes, and you're wanton for more...
Hope still exists when thoughts are divided
Each one remiss when feeling derided
A kindly word to be heard from the pain
Ricochet roulette, head spinning again
Tourniquet tightens, need some release
Self enlightening, the need to appease
Open your mind, an opportunity that knocks
Undo the hurt from others thrown rocks
Leap from the dungeon of dark depression
See the sunlight as ready confession
Haul yourself up the slippery crevasse
In time to reach a simple impasse
Violent tendencies to be left behind
Energising enervation of soul and mind
Reap the rewards of self belief
Go forth to escape from grief
Open heart to fully open eyes
A way to find freedom faraway from lies
Looking forward ne'er back in positivity
Suspend any remaining negativity
Proudly present the real person within
Loudly expend any past thoughts of sin
Every moment in time is now yours
Never ignore the heartfelt applause
Doubts now ridden and thrown away
Ovations and sensations, the audience sway
Unknown happiness to follow this day
Risen above and now on your own feet
Love is shared, life now complete
A step to a stand in one simple motion
Delivering passion with full-on devotion
You are now free...........
A Stairwell Romance...
Plastered walls with alabaster to apall
this site of solitude groans...
with age and abuse and multi-function use
tis the site of wild nightly moans...
Then through the slender window pane cracked
one flight up from the grounds of dismay
the sunlight shines on a siren in black
awaiting this dawn of the new day...
Waiting for silence in the stairwell above
single crimson rose held in velvet glove
thrust with lust and weeping love
timidity aroused from this sylph-like dove
She prays her prey will come to the scene
her last nights dreams so fully obscene
yet fantasy she wants to turn to reality
and so this wait in sullen locality
for the moment of magic to infuse
was confused but no more than a ruse
now to tempt to tease, to willingly please
to wantonly want, this passion not to cease
Silence a moment in passing time
reflecting on her soulful crime
resisting the option to run away
insisting self corruption is the only way
Heartbeat louder than the sound of steps
art recreating past memories swept
approaching the moment of mutual desire
tho' he's not aware of her blackened attire
graven yet tempting, lipstick fresh
ready to unveil, this veiled flesh...
Nearer and nearer and the fear now lost
face to face, but at what final cost?
then those lips press and ply
passion fashioned, unable to deny
this moment, this vision, this union
such majesty in total lust confusion
hands roam, breath is caught
feeling the feelings intimately sought...
Liquid and languid in momentary bliss
heaven scent with heavenly bliss
fluid interraction to mutual satisfaction
blown away by the frisson so frantic
this way to such exquistion romantic...
Then the sunlight fails
hands slip, slippery from the rails
this fumble now tumbles down the staircase
love turned into fatal malaise
rose thorns stab at heated hearts
though now they'll never be apart
as death is enjoyed together
united, entwined forever.....
AND NOW THE WALTZ - C'EST LA VIE!
From darkest depths of sunken depression
Missing daily, weekly, mutual confession
leading to months of moths and butterflies
from searing heat to clouded skies
frustration and amazement fuelled together
not knowing how, who, where or whether
I should have died, so many tears I've cried
that tunnels light seemed so naked and bare
those solitary thoughts of never again to care
and for a while, without a smile, I didn't....
But now I'm here getting ready to release the fear
to release these words that flow from within, with heartfelt sin
embellished with wanton desire to please and appease
to enchant and tease
to capture and enrapture
with all my heart
to you all
Coffee..(for Pam and Cheryl)
Wet winter entry to the warmth inside
E'en tho' the electric doors won't glide
A welcome smile and pleasant view
of Pam in her boots and tight jumper too
and Cheryl ready with a hot steaming cup
of milky sweet coffee, ready to sup
and thus here I sit composing this rhyme
completed well within my allotted time
on the library pc, so slow but sure
how I need a new laptop to write so much more
to be able to return with writings anew
filling these pages with requests from all of you
but now I'll just continue with this random ode
to my favourite librarians in Marsden Road
they're always here to bring cheer and advice
ever helpful and happy and ever so nice
if only the library had many more books within
I'd be here more often happy as sin!
What! No Sugar?
So here I arrive and the door still wont open
How are Cheryl and Pam really coping?
What with the chill breeze and vague winter sun
And the closed sign in the window that welcomes no-one
And then here comes Pam with vibrant leaping
to make the door open looking lively (I'm peeping!)
As she bounces up and down, a joy to behold
warming me inside from the chill outside cold
then Cheryl approaches, a smile to endevil
offering coffee, my taste buds to revel
so I sit here and log on to my site
allowing Cheryl to enter these delights
as a new member of this Boggy clan
to read these writes, that I write with elan
and then comes the words to momentarily distress
there's no sugar for my throat to caress!
But with a moment of thought and inpiration
Cheryl comes to my thankful salvation
with the offer of a sweetener for my hot drink
so now I can settle and compose what I think!
A NEARLY NEW LENDING EXPERIENCE?
The rain still lashes as christmas nears
so here I enter the warm library cheer
with new carpetted floor and elegant counter layout
I look around briefly to see what's about
open plan reading and new profferred tomes
but the computers moved to a corner room
away from the sight of friendly librarian vision
will they become misused with feral precision?
and though there is more space to roam
no idle chatter is heard, just the moan
of desktop pc fans struggling to process
these simple lines of emotive confess
so confined to this corner of near silent thought
it's nearly time to exit and report
to return last months readings and seek out more
to bring joy to my heart with books to adore
and then to wish all a wonderful yule time
with this little nearly new library rhyme!