Posts Tagged Poem
Archive
January 13, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: A negative framework
these scores are really complicated, the vision is distressed, a murderous ballet of the senses, a world far outside itself – far beyond what one person could ever know – the show is in the tell. The way back is by putting your best foot forward and hoping you don’t end up playing your […]Archive
January 8, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Father Time
Father Time has never been that kind – never been the kind of soul to figure it was not right to take a toll – you pay in blood and sweat and grit. And these days you pay an extra amount from online shit, from giving a shit about anything you read or see or […]Archive
January 5, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Giving The Drummer Some
I met Steve Gadd. He had played on many of the greatest songs ever. And just in case he’d forgotten I reminded him. I got him to sign my records. He was embarrassed – And told me he liked the fact that I was wearing shorts. It takes all sorts. And I was the only […]Archive
December 21, 2018 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Date Scone
We lined up at the counter, to order coffees and a snack. The way families do, when catching up now. My mum and my dad, visiting briefly, and we had done a wee tour of the town – so it was time to sit down for a bit. My father ordered a date scone – […]Archive
December 18, 2018 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: one new year’s eve
a mate of mine, – not a mate anymore – used to carry with him a card; picture of a monkey swinging from a tree… well, chimpanzee, but we all call them monkeys when we’re telling the stories… he’d laugh when we’d ask why he carried that card. told us we’d never know when it […]Archive
December 13, 2018 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: muscle-memory
i was thinking the other day about how my grandfather introduced me to a lot of great films – weird films, movies not meant for me – at that age. he took me to battletruck. (i was about 6). and we saw some tarzan movie that wasn’t particularly appropriate. (i had an older brother, still […]Archive
December 10, 2018 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Theophanes Blues
watch as they dig deep filling emptiness inside with hurt from the outside. the slaves that clean the drain, will one day be all that remains. for we hope from high up and afar – never from right there, watching and waiting – that the bones of the spectators will be thrown into the sewer […]Archive
December 6, 2018 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: I Wish This Interminability Would End
I wish this interminability would end. And yes, I know that’s very much peak-wishful thinking. This ship is sinking. And it’s stinking. Smell you later, no doubt.Archive
December 4, 2018 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Mark Knopfler Called My House One Time
Mark Knopfler called my house one time. (Okay, okay, it was a planned interview – but still. Knopfler handles them himself, schedules it. Then he calls you). He said, “It’s Mark here, is this Simon?” I said, sitting at my kitchen table on a Friday night, waiting for the call, nervous, and then off to […]Archive
December 2, 2018 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Let Me Entertain You
I got an email from Robbie Williams once. It was to apologise for the time he shared a picture of me and my kid to his 2.59m followers on Twitter.Archive
November 28, 2018 by Simon Sweetman