Posts Tagged Poem
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May 22, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: There’s Only One Thing Better…
the mandarins were in the fridge (where I wanted them) I took them and put them in a bowl (to gather the skins) there is a sugar rush that comes from eating mandarins (but my dad doesn’t believe that fruit has sugar, or else his doctor-friend would have mentioned it one night, over tennis…surely…) Now. […]Archive
May 20, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Two New Rules
Let she who is without fish, cast the first line (spare the rod – spoil a good day’s catch) let she who is without go before you – alwaysArchive
May 17, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Spectator Sport
i like to watch half-naked teenagers running for their lives most of them killed by chainsaws, brutalised by knives. hey! i never said i like to do it. i like to watchArchive
May 16, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Knowing The Score
Some time ago when I was 10 or 11 or maybe I was 5 or 6, music hit me and I’m glad it did. I felt no pain, only joy, sorrow of course, when the music told me to feel that way – and thanks must go to Mark Knopfler for his soundtracks of Last […]Archive
May 16, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Prevention Is Overrated
my imposter syndrome knows it’s not good enough – that’s how i cured itArchive
May 15, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Bone Terror
The ghost only walks the halls late and when all is quiet – it won’t ever touch my shoulder because I run too fast. Not scared of course, I just like to keep it on its toes – that’s so it can never catch me.Archive
May 13, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Running Lines
The horror maze was filled with shrieks and jump-scares, limbs tumbled down out of trap-door openings, parts were well-played, weird moans, demented laughing, while we walked through darkness and burst out laughing, once or even twice. It was fun but never truly scary. And not because I’m desensitised to horror, although it’s true that I […]Archive
May 12, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Don’t say slave, you are free
i clearly said ‘no’ when the guy asked me if i wanted my receipt. but he still made a face as i walked off while the machine was flashing its ‘acceptance’. either we are both at fault, or it’s neither of us – but certainly this is not anyone else’s problem.Archive
May 11, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: For The Coins To Fall
Philip Bailey’s falsetto, curls like smoke around words smacks me deep in my nostalgia valve. I crave the sound although can never explain it. My hands outstretched, although I’ll never hold it. The Linn drum hits me and the swirl of sound is a mini meditation. I suck back on the smoke of this song. […]Archive
May 10, 2022 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Roll Credits
The film doesn’t have long to go, put the jug on and make a cup of tea. Maybe you’ll have time to drink it all. Maybe you’ll even get a second cup. But don’t be too greedy now. Time is nearly up. There’s no need to return this film to its case, nor to any […]Archive
May 9, 2022 by Simon Sweetman