April 28th, 2019
I am the only person in my family to go to university
They were so proud of me
With a future to find
Qualified
And science too!
Nice and practical
Almost engineering
Practically a craft
But I betrayed them
Am I down mines finding coal?
No
Am I earning a slick mint in the city?
NO!
Instead I’m * coughs *
Writing * coughs *
drawing * coughs *
Being an arty farty
They hand their heads in shame
As the neighbours whisper…
Did you hear her on the radio?
Or see her on TV?
Yeah their daughter
An arty celebrity!
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April 21st, 2019
Jean is the little girl
With the hair that likes to curl
And she likes a buttered bun
But of course in the spring
It likes to rain
Which is a bit of a pain
For a little girl called Jean
Who is so very full of beans
To be outside in the sun
Having lots and lots of childhood fun.
Categories: Easter, Kids, Poems | No Comments »
April 16th, 2019
Large red heart shaped
Waiting to ensnare
Lighter at the core
Soft succulent
A summer treat
Artificail coxed to a sad perfection
You are over priced
Over engorged
Watery and compared to your ragga muffin ancestor –
Insipid
For the races,
For the hotels
For Pimms with ice and mint
But as nothing to the wild
Smaller than a finger tip
Mostly a ghostly white
They taste of strawberry
intensified
glorified
And best of all free!
Nestled in the hedgerows
Consumed by passing birds
And those few who know the secrets
Same really I can eat neither
Stupid food allergies.
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April 6th, 2019
Sound crashes over me
Continuos wave of noise
Distorting Intent
Blurring distinctions
People here, people there
Concephany of voices
Esculating with the day
Hemming my thoughts
No distinction of words
Just thunder booming
Loud undulations
Growing intense
Making me smaller
Retreat in silence
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March 21st, 2019
Boiled eggs
Fried eggs
Poached eggs
Pickled eggs
Curried eggs
Scotched eggs
Scrambled eggs
Nest eggs
Golden eggs
Chocolate eggs!
Categories: Easter, Kids, Poems | No Comments »
March 16th, 2019
Ghost of the ghetto
Your shadow is long
Reaching the present
In teachings and films
Ghost of the ghetto
The nightmares of man
Clouding the mind
Of one who was never there
Ghost of the ghetto
the I look to you
Is my fathers fear
Of you of the hate from which you grew
Ghost of ghetto
He never knew you
His father narrowly missed you
still he fears your return
Ghost of the ghetto
Remember of the crime
locked in a soul
perplexed by the insanity
Ghosts of the ghetto
Stain into life
So the truth cannot be seen
Your meaning hidden
Ghost of the ghetto
in resonance lies
An echo of hate
How propaganda binds
Ghost of the ghetto
A tradgedy full told
And yet the class missed it
We saw only facts
Ghost of the ghetto
yeild to me
so I may weep
the concept of family, friend, child
Ghost of the ghetto
I see you there
The key is knowing
one face, one name
Ghost of the ghetto
who are you?
Those smiling faces
or walking skeletons
Ghost of the ghetto
in images I’ve seen
people who could be my family
and so at last the tears
Ghost of the ghetto
Your enamies here
I saw them myself
But they did not know me
Ghost of the ghetto
They tried to tell me
I was like them
the way I look
Ghost of the ghetto
I knew their lies
Bundled in modern context
I turned my back on them
Ghost of the ghetto
I’ve cried for you
How can I help?
I fear I can not
Ghost of the ghetto
It’s time to rest
You may live within
I’ll remember
I shall mourn
Especially the little ones
And those that were never born
Categories: Poems, Political | No Comments »
March 6th, 2019
Rivers flowing locked in time
Carving the landscape
Pushing down, down,
Towards the core
That it will never reach
Rivers carrying pebbles
Rolling them over and over
Wearing them smooth
Knocking off the edges
Perfection in growing small
Rivers pure blood of life
Flowing out to nourish the world
To emerald beauty
Life to the barren earth shoot
Rivers meandering
Here and there
A sinuous twist
A delicate fan
From mountain to basin
Rivers fed from the air
From rain drops large
And rain drops small
From snow that melts
And ice that falls
Rivers springing
From the underground lair
An artesian well
in lime stone found
Aquifers of dinosaur age
A reservoir
For a future yet uncharted
Rivers anastomosing across the plan
But only in times of old
Creating braiding
And intricacies of habitat
For creatures that once abounded
Rivers carrying the silt
Of fertile planes
Needing to burst banks
That humans have made
Constraining all
Until it breaks
Categories: Poems, Science and art | No Comments »
February 28th, 2019
Burning Books
An idea is creeping
This concept is bleeding freedom dry
Bleaching our souls to dust
Carving loveliness into nothing
A vision is stealing rational thought
Turning the good to turgid insipidness
Leadership whips to spoil
Leaving people and lands boldly strewn
A nightmare is building out of the hate
Filling the belly of the best
Bubbling with grief that can destroy
Leaching humanity from its core
A cycle is beginning
Blaming, hating – are the new creeds
It begins with books and ends with people
Hold it together and no one is free
A pyre is belching a column in the sky
Smoke dirty as a sewage overflow
How many people will be maimed
For Pride and Glory and the Political Way
Categories: Poems, Political | No Comments »
February 27th, 2019
I Am An Ammonite is a poem written by Marcus Moore as part of the Cotswold Water Park Trust. I feel very lucky that a few years ago they all said yes to me illustrating it and placing it in the Science-Art Exhibition at Centre Arts in Cheltenham. The poem is on canvas and I attempted to make it seem as if it was in a sea full of ammonites and also a sea turned to stone – all at the same time.
The exhibition was fabulous and involved several other examples of science poetry as well as various sci-art projects.
If you wish to read the poem you can see it on here on Marcus’s blog. And yes I took a wonky photo.
Categories: About Poetry, Poems, Science and art | No Comments »
February 21st, 2019
Brains severed down the middle
Bloodied silver gleam
Echos of the self
Served in grey matter pulp
Memories disgorged
To the air
Swirling currents
Entering the mind
Thoughts erasing
Infection ingrating
Scrambling
That which is not cut
Grey-pink ribbons
A smell of iron jelly
Complete with spoon
Categories: Poems | No Comments »