Chris Williams
SHE HEARD IT ON THE RADIO Dominique Spearey
I'm just a rabbit in the headlights Oh the treachery of memory But God he was so handsome The smell of sweat enticing She was a rabbit in the headlights But.. ..he... really.... was .. quite... grubby Oh the treachery of memory I'm not a rabbit in the headlights KOLONN SANS HWATH Mick Paynter War dha dowl, O'Toole, Na Nev, na Ifarn, po Purjyans ragos, nyns yw. Ottena, omma....
Pinta korev, wosa dha Soedh yn Sowsnek:
Another Sacred Heart
by Mick Paynter The plan was, O’Toole, Nor Heaven, nor Hell, or Purgatory, for you, there’s not. See there, it’s here.....
A pint of beer; when your Work’s clear, Hear this poem
A PRAYER
Previously in Orbis O Lord of our Days, Please keep us from the clutches Let us creep softly into fat-arsed middle age And when the time comes But not just yet.
Hear this poem
See a poem by Chris Williams on the Guests Section
rabbit in the headlights
A rabbit in the headlights of your love.
It gushed up good and proper
Yet - when all was said and done
He was nothing but a rotter.
His body poured in leather
His winklepickers flashing
His reputation as a raver.
As she climbed upon his bike
Her hormones starting racing
As they rode off in the night.
A rabbit in the headlights
A rabbit in the headlights of his love.
His nails chewed to the quick
And looking back in hindsight
She just loved him for his prick.
Often leading us astray
Confusing glow of headlights
With the cold clear light of day.
A rabbit in the headlights
A rabbit in the headlights of your love.
rag an Artydh Skows Brian O'Toole
o, ty dh'omdewlel
gans el, splann es howl.
Hag war dowl an el
genes dh'omdewlel
heb drog bys merwel.
Ytho, lymner, lemmyn, y lymnis lymnans, yth yw.....
gans an Arloedh, hag y golonn ev
war y vron y sev, a'th hesya'n arwoedh.
For the Scouse Artist Brian O’Toole
for you to wrestle,
with an angel bright as sun.
And the angel’s plan
with you harmlessly
to wrestle’til death.
So, painter, now, a picture I did paint, it is.....
with the Good Lord, while his heart itself
stands up on his breast, signifies your jest.
Also on the web site of the Poetry Society
Raymond Humphreys
save us from the standard-setters;
the hush-voiced counsellors;
the inspectors; the auditors;
the therapists and the charterers;
the petition-makers;
the ethical advisers.
of all doctors, lawyers and accountants.
Spare us the priests and law-makers:
(anyone in a long black gown).
Close our ears to the lying politicians.
without the child within withering away.
And when our minds become fuddled with years,
or drink, or straitened thoughts,
keep a few crystals of truth
alive in some bright corner.
Let not madness, nor yet cold sanity
overtake us.
to switch off the light,
Do it quickly.
See a poem by Dominique Spearey on the More Guests Section
See a poem by Mick Paynter on the Even More Guests Section
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