Grits her yawn
Her wind ruffled pool
Fried blue concrete
This Arabian sea-side
Tires her dry eyes while
Tall shadows, bleached parasols
Blur through her
Blazing her long hot days
While the palm dials
Time to her
Our big, fat, white rabbit
Has short white ears and pink staring eyes
I like feeding it carrots or lettuce
But Scamper likes sunflower seeds best
Our uncle Bill says Scamper’s too fat
And would be better off cooked
With carrots and broccoli in the pot
But mum’s promised we’re not going
To eat him; no matter how big and fat Scamper got.
In the mid-
dull of the night
and listen to the rain
In this hot room
the sounds of splash
draw out my
slightly sighs again
Were you not here so
sweat with mine
Through this din of rain
and thunderous clocks
collect on you
I’m sure though
slow these days
will fly and
bring me close
in time to you
We blink at each other
thru some fug of confusion
The slow eyeball roll
to a grasp for conclusion
I hear your noise distant
As when wisps of mists cloud
All the words that you say
And I blink in ascent
Some time some time ago
we sang the same lyrics
Your accented verbs
lit my mind with loves fire
Attuned to the vibrant chords
Lept from your full lips
I wondered the musical
majesty of breath
Yet here we sit side by side
Tone deaf and mystified
Straining to glean
just a semblance of sense
I hear you, don’t get me wrong,
My ears are not yet deaf
What i hear is not quite though what your tongue likely meant
In a tumultuous world, a world of apparently unending descent into division, where is the warmth? The Bonhomie? Where is the sensible ascent of humanity through the love of verse and appreciation of the dynamic, the diverse, the intertwined voices of people?
Yes that’s right; our theme for the December edition is LOVE!
Bring your best, worst, favourite, most tear-jerkingly audacious verse to #beckbeatpoetry December to share with our appreciative audience of word lovers.
New for the end of the year: #storytelling
You have 5 mins infront of other people. That is the only limitation on our Open-Mic event.
Doors open 6.30, the mic goes live at 7 for your own, or your favourites to be shared.
The audience are receptive, enthusiastic, and gone by 8PM!
You know, he’s the most enormous person there is in the whole wide world.
Where is he?
The music is fading.
Truck’s stopped and everyone else is getting off, entwined in mums and dads,
so where is he?
You glance from big grinning face to big laughing head… Nowhere!
Try not to panic!
It feels empty now.
Gripping hold, tight, to the bar.
Afraid to stand, you fight back those early tears
and bite your bulging bottom lip.
Two huge hands reach in.
Click. You’re free; those hands, in your armpits, thrusting you skywards!
A reassuring bass voice
“Hello Twinkle! You enjoy that?”
“Dadeeeeee” you squeal,
beaming your best tooth-filled Beam back,
as he hoists you snuggly onto one arm and presses you against his wall of chest, for a carry!
Now that you’re three,
your arms easily encircle his tree-trunk neck
and you both sail along past other tempting stalls and flashing rides.
“Dinner soon” He harrumphs, close to your forehead
as you quietly de-panic and enjoy the comfort of the best ride in the show
– your best daddy in the whole wide world.
Woman; you were born a lady
pure as earth before the sea.
Lady I can see you calling
but I cannot stop you falling,
in this dark, they once called night –
you’re the person throwing light!
When each day has come on silent
this your knife; a final repent?