Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
If your love was an Easter egg
I would hold its fragility to my lips
the sweet taste of desire the prize
without the calories on our hips

I would gently coax your halves apart
and delight in the treats therein
unwrapping chocolate drops of heaven
with no feeling of guilt or sin

The smooth curves of your outer shell
would tingle my fingers to the bone
cupping your bottom my pleasure
now I have you to myself all alone

I'm licking and ******* as you melt
you're dissolving on my probing tongue
as we slide to a final coming together
I wish it was Easter all year long
Enjoy your Easter weekend!
19h · 95
Good Friday Haiku
Good Friday sunshine
day of fast and abstinence
but haiku exempt
Rare Good Friday sunshine in UKland
Apr 4 · 1.1k
I bit your fruit
I did not want to
want you but you wanted me
so I bit your fruit
A haiku of biblical proportions
Apr 3 · 81
Heartfelt Rehab
Round and round and round we go
tapping heel and tapping toe
but this is no barn dance show
it's cardiac rehab, don't you know?

Stretching limbs for warming muscle
doing the Tuesday cardiac hustle
with our hesitant torsos we tussle
a hive of activity, movement and bustle

Gail and Sarah to guide our way
we're no strangers to a hospital stay
we don't talk Brexit or Theresa May
we don't need the drama of a Shakespeare play

Taking our pulse on a bicycle ride
curling our biceps with no place to hide
receiving instructions with arms by our side
letting the NHS be our mentor and guide

After the warm up comes the warm down
We're allowed to smile and fight off a frown
no place here to play the clown
no tears in which for us to drown

Rehab includes mental health self care
an issue of which we should all be aware
we arrived with a problem ticker to bear
but leave with happy memories to share
After suffering a "cardiac event" last year I recently successfully completed a cardiac rehab programme  so this poem is my take on the experience.
Mar 27 · 86
Medication Menu
Chris Neilson Mar 27
As I awake my thoughts stir
mixing another medicated day
I'll have the Lansoprazole afore brekkie
with just a sprinkle of dizziness
plain porridge in the microwave
slicing banana for risky fibre
consuming carefully as to rush
would be unwise from experience
a glass of water awaits
with a clopidogrel and bisoprolol side
hardly a breakfast for the weak willed!

What's on the lunch bill of fayre?
something boring washed down with aspirin
that blood mustn't thicken you know
keep your mood just above low
spending the afternoon in a lazy haze
I've a statin for dinner so happy days
headache and nausea an effective side

It's nearly bedtime so excitement builds
but not for any nefarious deeds
a tamsulosin to finish the imperfect day
to relax muscles once taken for granted
no pity do I seek or desire of you
self deprecation, irony and sarcasm
a coping medication menu mechanism
An average day
Dec 2018 · 917
Fake Cousins
Chris Neilson Dec 2018
A  friend of a friend is now my friend
befriended to me to the very end
she always has an ear to lend
especially to me who's on the mend
placating anxiety to which I tend
many minutes with her I love to spend
her hand of friendship there to extend
she runs a cafe which I do commend
competitive pricing prevents overspend
moist scones with strawberry jam I recommend
making weekends existentially transcend
to be fake cousins we sometimes pretend
for a meeting place she's a godsend
when I feel my life descends towards a dead end
she wends my spirits to relentlessly ascend
her recipe for life has the perfect blend
now do the right thing and make this trend!
I'm only codding ya with the last line.
Nov 2018 · 1.9k
Life's Departure Lounge
Chris Neilson Nov 2018
I'm a clean healthy living bloke
I don't drink and I don't smoke
consuming my quota of 5 a day
fruit and veg are here to stay

I've got serious health issues you see
I've been unwell, between you and me
but I still play the hand I'm dealt
whether standing, sitting or even knelt

No woe is me or sympathy sought
against many misfortunes I've fought
I owe it to those who love me dearly
cheerily supportive when I'm weary

They suggest I write in a rhyming style
to lift the reader and let them smile
life's departure lounge has many exits
don't leave them still talking about brexit
Nov 2018 · 503
War to not end all wars
Chris Neilson Nov 2018
You don't look you see
you don't listen you hear shells
a no man's land death
The first 2 lines are from interview footage I saw today from a WW1 British soldier filmed in the early 1960s. This would be the same for all nationalities who lost their lives in the horrific European trench warfare from 1914-1918.
Nov 2018 · 606
Chris Neilson Nov 2018
He's a manchild
it's in the vulnerability of his eyes
emotional with a low pain threshold
driven by an empathy that never dies

He's an adult boy
sensitive to criticism of any kind
a beautiful immaturity all too real
an inflammatory flawed life set on rewind

He's a grown up infant
needs protection, gullible and prone
needs daily comfort from life's travesties
never more distressed than when all alone

Where will it end with these traits of character?
an assertive struggle with meek and mild
best left to his own devices, after all
He's a manchild
Oct 2018 · 596
A cure for all ills
Chris Neilson Oct 2018
Work; unable to accept
intermittent teasing texts of temptation
in a gross gig economy
sick notes but no sick pay
in a universally dis-credited world

Limbo; a place no one should go
or find themselves in
a prematurely ageing body
fighting against the rising tide
of the ravages of time
an existential mind distortion
of how to live the healthy life
that's gone before
for the future ever after

Future; if only we knew
the present could be ridden
like an untamed horse
across a river of destiny
where flows turbulent but cleansing water
to an opposing land of opportunity
where the past need not shape what happens next

Re-invention; a cure for all ills
A transitional period in my life after a life changing event
Oct 2018 · 2.1k
Faces of Innocence
Chris Neilson Oct 2018
I gaze at a photo
of the 3 years old me
blond hair with an uneven fringe
blue eyes twinkling
at the freshness of this nascent life
a slight gap at the top of my baby teeth
showing through a natural gentle smile
a knitted jumper of a maroon shade
over a buttoned up white shirt

This could be an airbrushed cover boy
such is the perfection of this angelic child
but the year is 1970 with limited technology
the photographer an uncle or an aunt
just another kid in a growing family

I've seen photos of Kurt Cobain at the same age
we were born only 3 days apart
the resemblance to me is striking
he born in the rainy north west of the USA
my birth in the rainy north west of England
both with Irish heritage
both part of generation X
both from humble backgrounds
both journeys poles apart

Only death parted my parents
I had a settled loving upbringing
I never learned to play a musical instrument
I never joined a band
I never sold millions of albums
I never had a stomach complaint
I never fell to the temptations of narcotics
I never married Courtney Love
I was never the voice of our generation
I never made the ultimate catastrophic decision

But I did listen to that voice
I did listen to the angry, confessional lyrics
I bought those albums
they still spoke to me
I still listen to them now
I'm alive and still here in my 50s

I don't have much money
I've never had fame
that ship sailed without me
that ship sails stormy waters
that ship hits icebergs
that ship can sink

I give thanks every day for what I have
cash poor
love rich
Sep 2018 · 247
I May Never
Chris Neilson Sep 2018
I may never reach my ultimate goal
always trying to save your soul
never discovering sustainable joy
always scheming with a plot and ploy

I may never find what I'm looking for
always pacifying and renouncing war
never feeling healthy for more than a week
always hiding when I should seek

I may never see the perfect day
always feel like running away
never felt comfortable in my own skin
always losing when it's easier to win

I may never curb negative feelings
always looking up at glass ceilings
never saying I like you
always thinking I love you
Deep, real deep, eh?
Sep 2018 · 6.2k
Kamikaze Coffee Fly
Chris Neilson Sep 2018
I visited my local garden centre
into the cake filled cafe I popped
bought a coffee and muffin
but with both hands full they nearly dropped

The server asked if I wanted a tray
told her I had enough to carry
the drink spilled a wee bit
I wasn't as happy as Larry

Never know who that Larry is
but he must be ****** annoying
he makes a joke out of everything
bound to become soul destroying

Anyway I wander from my anecdote
from the tangent I will return
to me sitting in the cafe garden
sheltering from fair skin sunburn

I photographed my drink and treat
and posted it on instagram
yer see my life is boring and sad
I watch paint dry on a webcam

10 seconds later a fly divebombed
into my coffee, drowned and sank
clearly a winged hater of social media
it went too far if it was a prank

I ate the muffin but ditched the drink
kamikaze coffee fly gave me the blues
to turn this mundane non event
to become a rhyming muse
A true tale of woe
Sep 2018 · 237
Poets Anonymous
Chris Neilson Sep 2018
I visited insomniacs anonymous
but fell asleep during roll call
I thought I had "short-man" syndrome
but found I was too tall

I asked a bird to sing me a song
the feathered fiend tweeted my request
it said it disliked my flat feet
but loved my #pigeonchest

I took the low road to the high street
gave cash to a busker with spoons
I then found a fork in the road
deflating a man selling balloons

I popped off to the nearest Greggs
at a bus stop, ate a cheese & onion pastie
asked a bloke "how long's the next bus?"
"about 40 foot"... no need to be nasty

Walked home with takeaway heartburn
constructing a poem in my befuddled head
searching for a muse for inspiration
my last one was ivy on my shed

Poets anonymous stopped taking my calls
after I revealed my identity
these words are becoming more ridiculous
but at least there's no obscenity
Sep 2018 · 1.1k
Irrepressible Hello Poetry
Chris Neilson Sep 2018
What’s on the poetry menu today?
I’ll have the creative vision to start
a verbose main course of word play
and to finish a tasty couplet ****

Making time for the perfect rhyme
striving for a matching metaphor
writing more than a passing pastime
we’re the judge, jury and editor

Take us to a literary plateau
overseeing a writer’s collective
absorb the vibe to us bestow
feel empathy and others perspective

To share the love give us the power
to our kindred in words accessible
leave poetry snobs in their ivory tower
Hello Poetry is a group irrepressible
Don't we just know it?!
a collective pat on the back to us all
great work everyone!
Sep 2018 · 405
Rise in love
Chris Neilson Sep 2018
It's said we fall in love
that great institution
of emotional turbulence
but falling for someone
is not a great start
stumbling and bumbling
into the heart of another

Why can't we rise in love
like Icarus soaring to realms
of pure, unadulterated pleasure
a joyful delightful meeting
of shared empathy
with a fellow human
a soul mate
a bed mate
a forever rising love mate

so fall not ye of great faith
in the strength of love
rise upslope in huge hope
with your partner in amour
climb the hill of desire
and skip every trip wire
as falling out of love
is a long way down
love is not all we need
but it is important
Aug 2018 · 2.4k
Dear Ivy
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
I used to think you were pretty
I liked your spirit
you were always growing
always reaching for the sky
you could be clingy
but it was all part of you being you
but then you didn't know when to stop
greedily absorbing the sun and rain
climbing my walls with abandon
disregarding all in your path
determination to be seen by everyone
passers by stopping to view you
it's been a difficult decision
but you were causing too much damage
you were out of control
so there was only one solution
I cut you off at your roots
to die a dignified demise
killing you wasn't easy
there are signs you're still not dead
but all good things end sometime
dear ivy, you've given me a **** of a ride
Ivy growing on my shed then spreading all over one side of the house and even trying to get into the guttering and on the roof!
Aug 2018 · 909
Park Life
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
When your hair's like a wig
and all you hear is a pig

When you own a woolly coat
and your best friend's a goat

When the ducks are quacking
and your visitors are lacking

When you want a little fun
but there's little space to run

When your belly's not full
and your day's very dull

When the rain is pouring
and nibbling grass gets boring

When your field's too muddy
and you're fighting with your buddy

When your life's nearly spent
and you don't know where it went

You're an alpaca in a park
I trust they're well cared for but I do worry about the alpacas in my local park
Aug 2018 · 3.9k
Universal Respect
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
if humans only make do and mend
there will not be a world without end

many different places we worship
while letting this planet's resources slip

trusting our faith will flower
professing a love to a higher power

a designation to keep us all in line
if we pray to our God we'll be fine

buying shares in a guaranteed afterlife
with our planet‘s climate in trouble and strife

disregarding our future generations 
unless we build them space stations

no one sets out for **** on a hand cart
highways for rock stars playing a part

not everyone believes in life after death
they say nothing's beyond the last breath

spiritual belief is a personal choice
we all speak with a unique voice

we've only got this Earth on loan
from a universe of life as yet unknown

we all share this third rock from the sun
so we must respect our world as one
Religion, atheism, climate change and AC/DC all covered here
Aug 2018 · 412
A Poet's Muse
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
A poet's muse can amuse
like a child in adult's shoes
when leaving no clues
as to where they perused
with nothing to lose
after your heart bruised
from their short fuse
and many unpaid dues
to become yesterday's news
not enough honest views
just soaking in *****
then a new path to choose
strewn with colourful hues
and the nuts, bolts and screws
to muse about the blues
standing in life's queues
for a round the world cruise
but never ever would I excuse
your evasion from love's glues
Never fall in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with
Aug 2018 · 2.5k
A light less ordinary
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
light of a fresh dawn
giving birth to a new day

light of many shades glinting
its spectrum of rainbow delight

light of a brilliant midday sky
casting minimalist shadows

light of an afternoon afterthought
of sun filled days like these

light of an early evening
filling a room of memories

light fading to dusk and black
dying a less ordinary day

light of my life filling my night
with warmth to my soft caress
Thinking about light in all its guises
Aug 2018 · 681
False dawn to true dusk
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
False dawns play cruel mind games
Robert awoke to a brand new job
looked through a kaleidoscope of hope
then played odd job bob a job Bob

Lucy met her potential life love
heart a-flutter and flying high
then clouds of betrayal stripped her soul
no diamonds in her stormy sky

Ben stopped behaving like a rat
despite Jacko's big '70s hit
he thought he'd lost that tag
until the fan met the inevitable ****

Gordon never was a *****
he entertained and liked to busk
each day lived without expectation
the only one to find a true dusk
I've had my share of false dawns
Aug 2018 · 22.0k
A city for all ages
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
Along the bus filled corridor
from the south of the city
through the Victorian architecture
of Withington and Fallowfield
to the world food of Rusholme
with its plethora of barber shops
shoe shops, shisha bars, cafes
Philips Park and the eye hospital
then the university quarter
students like woolly hatted ants
a human tide of books and backpacks
our future professional generation
of doctors, scientists and philosophers
part time poets and musicians

Into the city centre bustle 
of hipsters and hustlers
high flyers and homeless
rough sleepers and penthouses
side by side in a sea of incongruity
The roman settlement of Castlefield
now sky scraping soulless concrete
in this original city of industry
where workers downed tools 
in cotton mills for anti-slavery 
American Civil War brethren
built on old world immigration
integrated into a working class
of blue collars, graft and toil
bones of its makers in its soil

Images of the lost industries
now decorate ornate beautiful bees
scattered in and around the urban sprawl
timely reminders of our heritage
of Northern grit in all its colours
of invention, science, sport, music and art
of protest, achievement and inspiration
a city that's historical
a city for the here and now
a city for future nascent talent
a city that's changed the world
Manchester, a city for all ages
I wrote most of this after returning from a hospital appointment earlier this year but have now added to it to bring it up to date
Aug 2018 · 283
Poets need not apply
Chris Neilson Aug 2018
Letting the days go by
under an ever changing sky
unable to say goodbye
to previous days that die
no tears shed to dry
or stopping to wonder why
poets need not apply
when new ideas won't fly
despite how hard they try
to reach a permanent high
where their hat is they lie
through joy and pain to cry
but with shares in heaven to buy
the end is never nigh
This means whatever you want it to mean
Jul 2018 · 211
Oak of love
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
May divine intervention
provide me with an acorn ; a poetry acorn in which lie my innermost hopes,
latent winsome wishes and fantastical futuristic dreams
to bury in metaphorical fertile soil
to lay undisturbed by humanity's meddling
to slowly grow and grow
multiplying in its inventive intent
drawn to the surface by a loving sun
revealing its birth to passers by
always reaching for the sky
in the image of its planter

As the decades methodically pass
so this poet's tree gathers momentum
hopes coping with copious tempests
wishes made true despite wild winds
dreams undiminished by deforestation

steadfast to the last in its conviction
to overlook a more peaceful earth
than the earth into which it was planted

to fulfil the legacy of its conception
to be viewed as a creative influence
to be seen as the poet's pacifying tree
to become known as the oak of love
Inspired by a plaque next to a 150 year old oak tree in Dunham Massey in Cheshire
Jul 2018 · 185
Tell them you're a poet
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
When meeting someone new
you're asked, "What do you do?"
how do you respond?
maybe with a monologue of
a soul destroying job
perhaps with an exaggerated
declaration of fulfilment
in how you spend your days
crushing your very being
to pay to keep yourself alive
that may be the bald truth
but you dare not say it
your identity and definition
are much more complex
if you're paid for spending
your time in an activity you enjoy
you are to be admired
others may envy you
but natural born talent
only gets you so far
hard work can take you further
we're all good at something
that's what "they" say
whoever "they" are
but few of us make a living
from pastimes we enjoy
wealthy poets are thin on the ground
but I wish to be remembered as one
despite its paucity of monetary value
discard unwanted labels others give you
you deserve to define yourself
so the next time you're asked
"What do you do?"
be honest
just tell them you're a poet
just say it! ☺
Jul 2018 · 180
Self Serving Supermarkets
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
What do we do when there are queues
for all the supermarket checkout bods
we head for a session of self serving
like scanning numpty clumsy clods

Put your empty bag on the side
dear God there's an error already
forlornly looking around for help
legs feeling none too steady

Told to take my bag off and start again
"listen mate, I've no time for this ****"
my frozen green beans are thawing
Can't find the bar codes, my teeth are grit

First bag full now second bag on
flashing error it's in the wrong place
back comes helper to move it an inch
my head's in bits and I'm off my face

"How do I weigh my plums?"
I thought I'd never ask out loud
press fresh produce then on the scales
as my life passes under a cloud

It's time to chill, finish and pay
contactless, debit card or cash
the nightmare will soon be over
as I scratch a stress related rash
Doing the job for them and paying for the privilege
Jul 2018 · 354
Misty Reverie
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
After the rain has gone
I see your misty reverie
unbroken thoughts abound
of the younger you and me

I'm told I used to smile more
at all your childish silly ways
in the throes of uncouth youth
in those nascent salad days

Making base camp for mount love
tent pitching and stitch unstitching
finding new colours in your eyes
beautiful, bewildering and bewitching

The solar sky clears my fears
disgracefully growing old together
we have miles of smiles to go
before the end of our tether
I'm catching up on some poetry "admin" today and finding stuff I've written that I'd forgotten about like this one.
Jul 2018 · 522
Art of Poetry
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
Producing the perfect poetic piece
about love, war and peace
is like knitting spaghetti
or collecting confetti
body and soul exploration
becomes a disconnection
when the ink runs dry
and we don't know why
we recall journeys and roads
in scatalogical awkward odes
prose seems more dead than alive
forced rhymes we may contrive
a bittersweet symphonic idea
can make a tragedy of King Lear
growing old but growing up never
closing in on the end of our tether
making no sense of man or beast
once youthful foreheads creased
in and out of love with our craft
a poem's reception woefully understaffed
brain cells performing disappearing acts
reality unglued not sticking to facts
you, the earth, the universe
fighting to find the ideal verse
bad days bring an unwanted stigma
when the art of poetry becomes an enigma
It's a fine art! ☺
Jul 2018 · 176
Wordsmith's Work
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
A poet's lot is not a lot
when you give all you've got
while waiting for a spot
to light up the world
of more than kindred scribes
with barbs not bribes
of sycophantic submissions
to the converted

Shouting in the din
won't win awards
or applauds
whispers in ears
going through the gears
and tears for fears
after too many beers
burns and crashes

it's all about the luck
fate plays its part
right place, right time
and every other cliche
don't measure the quantity
but feel the quality
of a voracious vocabulary
free from poetry police constabulary

Streams of consciousness
flow into fast flowing rivers
to broad majestic estuaries
out into glinting bays
opening to deep oceans
of letters, lines and stanzas
to the ultimate final piece
of a wordsmith's lifelong work
Some musings
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
(No geese were harmed in the making of this post)

In April 2012 my wife and I attended a literary festival in Scarborough. We networked with various authors as we were staying in the same hotel as most of them. When I say "networked" I mean I looked on in awe of them in the breakfast room and the bar in the evening. Andy Kershaw had a book out at the time and he got through at least one massive “full English” at the table next to us whilst slurping tea and tapping into a laptop. My literary "career" was very much still at it's nascent stage so without having a published book myself to talk about I felt somewhat out of my depth.

On a sunny spring Saturday afternoon we decided to venture out to Peasholm Park in a quieter part of the town. In the centre of the park is an island with a waterfall and one linking bridge. This looked very becoming so I was eager to explore further. As we crossed the bridge there were some hastily written warning signs that the island was currently home to nesting Canada geese which could be very aggressive.

As I am a real man I disregarded this as poppycock so we continued onto the island and up a steep curved path towards the top of the waterfall. Around halfway up there were a couple of geese just to the right of the path on a grassed area.  As we drew level with them one approached me and hissed menacingly.  I laughed in its beaky face and used a ****** turn of phrase towards the angry goose, that’s “f* off” to you and me, and continued up to the waterfall not realising at the time that this goose had well and truly marked my card and was now biding it's time safe in the knowledge that his moment would come again.

After spending time in some beautiful gardens we made our way back. As there only appeared to be one path in and out from the gardens back down to the bridge, we re-traced our steps. Half way down I noticed the same 2 geese again.  One was female and nesting. However, her husband, that I had the run in with earlier, was now standing tall in the middle of the path. He was wearing an expression of "come and have a go if you think you're hard enough Manc *******".

As we got closer he took a couple of steps towards me and reared up, flapping his wings and spitting in the most hideous fashion. His body language was screaming  "You're not laughing now are yer" " Tell me where to go did yer?!" "I'm going nowhere!".  The stand off continued for another minute or so. He wasn't backing down. I took a step to the right and he did the same. I took a step to the left and same again. All the time he was flapping and spitting. His tongue was serpent-like.

I decided I wasn't going to be beaten by a ****** devil goose! I made one more attempt to pass him then he lurched at me. I “ducked” out of the way of his satanic beak. I took a few further steps back and was so wound up I considered hitting him in self defence but quickly noticed there were various signs nearby indicating we were on CCTV. 

I could vision the headlines in The Scarborough Herald, "Mancunian Madman Punches Goose In Beak". I accepted defeat so we headed back up the path the way we came. As I looked behind me,  my nemesis followed us a few steps and was straining his neck forward in some kind of parting shot.
As we got further away he stopped, then returned to his nesting goose wife.
We eventually found another path avoiding the Canadian goose **** and were able to escape unscathed. 

Back at the hotel that evening I did consider sharing this tale with the writers in the bar but decided to avoid losing any writer‘s credibility before it had even started,  so instead used my well worn avoidance tactics and ate a packet of dry roasted peanuts and went upstairs to watch Match of the Day.
It's all true. I fully understand this was natural behaviour from the geese concerned. However, when you have a crazed goose flying at you with razor sharp teeth, self defence is paramount.
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
There’s nothing like a morning of azure sky beauty
when the mind is clean and fresh, open and untainted
yesterday’s troubles are past, gone and history’s *******
time to start again and with blessings become acquainted

There’s nothing like the feeling of opportunity within grasp
when  thoughts of failure are banished to outer space
a cross section of society are always there to help
finding them is the key to restore faith in humanity

There’s nothing like a day  swimming in a sea of tranquility
favourable tides and deliverance to a golden sandy beach
metaphors are for all to use to enrich descriptive vocabulary
when all numbers add up to a rounded figure of speech  

There’s nothing like that warm fuzzy feeling
in the nervous system from an endorphin rush
a natural high for transference to spiritual kin
to beautify  life’s canvass with a poetic paintbrush
The clearest blue sky in Manchester this morning after a bright full moon night
Jul 2018 · 6.7k
Nelson Mandela
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
"There's only one way forward
and that is peace, there is no other way"
so said Nelson Mandela after 27 years in prison
the majority spent on an island
governed by a brutal apartheid regime
borne out of a hatred for another's skin colour
no one is born hating
it's learned through the teaching of bigotry and fear
Mandela was no angel
he wasn't immune to human weakness
forfeiting his first marriage
for a struggle for equal rights
turning to violence when all else failed
his long lonely walk to freedom
began with that life imprisonment
after escaping a death sentence
a journey which ended in forgiveness
for the minority who ruled by oppression
and demonstrating that a new South Africa could be taught to love
as love comes more naturally
to the human heart
whatever the colour of their skin
Mandela was born just over 100 years ago and his life and legacy remains hugely significant.
Jul 2018 · 373
Purring Pussycats
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
My childhood house had mice
so a cat named Queenie was the answer
she had many kittens too
we knew enough about spades
they dug our spuds for protein
but spayed cats not at all
she died before I was born
but her legend was passed to me

Later, Cinders arrived
a black and white lady cat
she could be aloof, many felines are
but she purred and never bit
or scratched pawing children
living a full life as I grew
from blond boy to curly teen

Tibby was the last *****
he was a character no doubt
he was neutered early
perhaps too early
disinterested in girlfriends
he chased the Toms
every morning at 4am
he howled under my bedroom window
once when I opened to door to let him in
he ran past me with a dead pigeon in his mouth
bleary eyed and furious I scolded him
he hadn't killed it, he'd found it
I wasn't falling for his pretence
he was a lover not a hunter
when Tibby passed away
it was the end of an era

I bought my own pet free house
that's the way I like it as an adult
but Cinders and Tibby
still enter my thoughts
as their purring was the soundtrack
to my formative years to my poetic self
The UK is a nation of dog lovers but growing up in a dog free house with cats means I have no affinity with canines. It's felines for me.
Jul 2018 · 482
Cell Phone Addiction
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
In the '80s I worked for a company
who sold mobile (cell) phones
they needed 2 bodybuilders to lift
and only Tory yuppies could afford them
we also had a car phone fitter
no hands free so lethal on the roads
I had to stock take the big *******
so a waiting hernia had my name on it

In the 90s I worked for a different telecomms firm
they never sold the now slightly smaller mobiles at all
no future in them, that's what they said
anyway, business suits and drug dealers
were the main market for them at that time
my company thrived on fax machines and payphones
if you were seen with a mobile you were a *****
or a low life down a shadowy back street

In the 2000s everything changed almost overnight
affordability and smaller size really mattered
the masses and all classes turned to text
and the novelty of talking on the toilet
in the bath, or while enjoying al fresco ***
that means outdoors, not with Alan Fresco
the genie was out of the bottle
and so, unfortunately, was Christina Aguilera

In the 2010s, public phone boxes are a rarity
the irony is those that are left
with the doors ripped off and pools of *****
are now largely the preserve of drug dealers
trace ability more difficult, **** odour irrelevant
the mobile phone world has turned full circle
in just 2 decades users have evolved from social pariahs
to social media addicts with a furtive future unwritten
I've gone for social commentary with humour here. I'm aware not ALL public phone boxes are used by dealers. We have plenty of older people and rural areas in the UK.
Jul 2018 · 236
Laughing 'til I cried
Chris Neilson Jul 2018
Remembrance of my summer childhood as I listen to excited chatter from neighbours children
their laughter of innocence resonates
deep into my forgotten unconsciousness
at their age I ached from chortling
with my mates at the freshness of life
no responsibilities, no anxiety, no worries
Wimbledon is on the telly
my sister and I had tennis rackets
passed down from elder siblings
wooden frames and missing strings
we didn't care, we made our fun
I was Bjorn Borg, she was Chris Evert
we had no net so used a wall instead
we invented a game called Squennis
and laughed and laughed and laughed

I don't laugh so much now
unable to let go of decades of baggage
world weary waiting for redemption
from God knows what, where and why
Wimbledon bores me so switch it off
and switch on my delightful memories
of falling on my bony **** on stony ground
and laughing 'til I cried
today I cry until I laugh
it's a start
I worked out today that all things considered the peak pure happiness in my life was at 10 years old
Jun 2018 · 264
Factor 50
Chris Neilson Jun 2018
I was born to shy away from the sun
pale skin and ****** roots my DNA
with north European deep blue eyes
averse to cloud free azure skies
as a sickly blond child I burnt easily
on those rare humid Brit summer days
sun screen unheard of in my household
sunstroke a given over 20 Celsius
sick feeling and horrible heat rash
to create a school holiday crash
adulthood holidays to hot foreign climes
bring me troubling stressful solar times
beaches filled with bronzed beauty
blue eyes turning green with envy
toned exposed flesh a rare treat
just lookin', not buyin' of course
but my sallow skin screams, "Nooooo!!"
don't dare take that tee off!
and what's with the **** hairy legs?
inadequate; inferiority complex feelings
my gloomy comfort zone abandoned
for an incongruous tropical personal ****
my sand filled kit searched for survival
to find the only hope for an Anglo Celt
10 euros for a large umbrella shade
and a life saving bottle of factor 50
Just a bit of fun. My time in the algarve region of Portugal has been tremendous. I wrote this in a quiet cove on a picture postcard beach with the ocean surging towards me. I was wearing a t-shirt and fac 50 natch.
Jun 2018 · 352
Believe in love
Chris Neilson Jun 2018
On this day 30 years ago, I was single.
The next day my life changed forever.
I played in a 5-a-side football match for my work's team
against our local rivals, played well and scored many goals
Watching on was a girl, or should I now say "young woman"
who worked for the same company as me
Later that night the young woman and I
commenced a romantic relationship.
exactly 10 years to the day after that, we married.
30 years of ups and downs, break ups and make ups
house moves, serious illness and bereavements
outside interference, family politics and strife
all like any other marriage I guess
but we're still together, our little team of 2
taking on the world and all life's challenges in tandem
most of all we're happy together
if you believe in love
then ours is a success story
A personal piece which I aim to be feelgood
Jun 2018 · 268
Love untouchable
Chris Neilson Jun 2018
If I watched an average 24 hour news
in all its disastrous depressing rotation
I'd fall into the king of sleeps
a powerful slumber of dreams
where I'd process those 24 hours
in all their horror, hatred and intolerance then in the final hour I would dream
that I could play the role of God,
what mankind perceives as that great goal of almighty enlightenment
but there would be no earthly life
as we understand it now
its flawed failed experiment self destructed
this would be a spirit world
an existential love experience
I'd reset evolution before it became
twisted and distorted into revolution
built on war, disease, illness and atrocity
spirits would procreate and exist forever in an ethereal everlasting world
previous perceived stairways to heaven
would belong to a former time and space
where the old mankind's peace lovers
gained entry the hard way
this new world would still have the arts
its artists, painters and poets
but in a concept our mortal poetic predecessors would never understand
they even had earthly trolls to contend with
John Lennon imagined a similar world
but his was an earthly nirvana
my dream is not of this planet
my dream is not of this life
my dream is a love untouchable and eternal.
a fanciful dream that helps keep me sane
Jun 2018 · 491
Reason to be
Chris Neilson Jun 2018
Into my middle age
I thought I'd reached the stage
where I'd turned every page
against every machine raged

No purpose found in a life of work
never wanted to be Captain Kirk
always playing the ****
many colleagues did I irk

Something missing from my soul
a huge, forbidding gaping hole
unfulfilment taking its toll
still searching for a goal

There must be more than this
than just being called Chris
and life *******
staring into the abyss

No great faith of the religious kind
glass half empty inclined
all latent creativity confined
going through the motions resigned

One day I found my calling
after too many jobs appalling
after too many meetings galling
and between gears stalling

I wrote and I wrote and I wrote
found oars for my sinking boat
with various ideas to float
found ink and scribbled a note

"From my shackles I'll be set free
I've found my perfect cup of tea
this will be my final plea
may poetry be my reason to be"
My ultimate fulfilment
Jun 2018 · 4.8k
Old black dog
Chris Neilson Jun 2018
The black dog is here again
an unwanted visitor at my door
like a ******* I let it in
to feed on my insecurities
preying on my guilt and self pity
past mistakes passing by
grinning grotesquely at my plight
barking; harking back to days
best forgotten but entrenched within
I've been bitten before so I stay put
twice as shy so I lie to myself
that this old dog won't live forever
but he keeps returning
no matter that I move house
no change that I've moved jobs
it still finds me, this scruffy mutt
this metaphor for my dark moods
I want to stop feeding it
I need to end its curse
tomorrow it will be gone
and a piece of my mind
can be silenced once more
to give me peace of mind
I'll get the better of you
flea bitten hound
get out of my life for good
the black dog is a metaphor, of course
Jun 2018 · 272
Splaying Spoken Word
Chris Neilson Jun 2018
Recently joining the open mic circuit
my life has changed for the better
post illness, anxiety and stress
I write the audience a spoken letter

A new lease of life in a bright new dawn
an extension to the power of feel good
endorphins released from captivity
surging through over tested blood

Meeting new poets and their backstory
creative abundance abounding around
free spirits with a charismatic character
I was presumed lost but now found

From the page some rage on the stage
in pieces of work cathartic and confessional
topical subject matter particularly popular
in these times continually recessional

The term "wealthy poet" is an oxymoron
there's no money in it but what the ****
English language words are being good to me
I'm having a ball, can't you tell?
I never had the confidence to take to the open mic until recently when I realised just how short life could be and to banish self doubt via a rigorous kick up the ****. Please do have a good day dear poets.
Jun 2018 · 668
Lamplight Lament
Chris Neilson Jun 2018
C'mon silence, come to me
lay me down on bended knee
head bowed as if in prayer
but into space I vacantly stare
lost in my own fragile ego
presumed lost seeds to sow
from soil rich from sun and rain
to banish fears and nagging pain

C'mon tranquility, show me pity
show me this world's not so ******
lift my spirits to ethereal healing
keep me afloat from a sinking feeling
peace be with you my friend
reciprocate my ear to lend
a faint sound of a ticking clock
with no surprises or a shock

C'mon interruptions, give me a break
when trying to sleep you keep me awake
know when a man needs his rest
don't put his patience to the test
let him find his way to good health
allay tormentors who come by stealth
my phone's off, my writing radar is on
inking my thoughts before they're gone

C'mon life, give me time to live you
there's still so much to see and do
though I never cut the umbilical cord
I need some contentment and reward
my spoken word in you I trust
before my bones turn to dust
don't let me die wondering why
my tears were never allowed to dry
A confessional piece after suffering health issues over the last few years.
Thanks for reading
May 2018 · 273
Relay of love
Chris Neilson May 2018
These days in May; oh glorious days
of sunshine unbroken rarely spoken
of in northern climes in modern times
summer 1976 is all we ever here of
if you’re lucky enough to remember
my distant memories of that wave of heat
included swarms of ladybirds never seen
in the living memory of that time
packed beaches and hosepipe bans to the fore
sweating in school; cooled only by milk
before milk snatcher Maggie Thatcher
stole that lifeline from our feeble grasp
bearded Bjorn Borg winning Wimbledon
on a sizzling Saturday in July
while I poked a stick in melting tar
all I needed to satisfy my childhood
simpler times, nostalgia dictates happier times
when you’re 9, every day lasts a week
in middle age every week lasts a day
or that’s the way it feels
I wish for these glorious days in May
to slow down; slow to a snails pace
to become a saving grace
for all who believe and trust in peace
for all to get what they deserve
on a May evening in Manchester in 2017
countless numbers were failed by this
so let’s wish for future generations
to grasp the peaceful baton
to reach a natural finishing line
after running a relay of love
It will be a year tomorrow that evil visited Manchester
May 2018 · 4.5k
Magic Monkey Mug
Chris Neilson May 2018
In my kitchen cupboard
sits a chipped mug
'tis no ordinary mug
'tis a big white builder's mug
in green lettering it states
"you, me and a cuppa PG"
a well known brand of tea
it's been there years
the mug's other side
sees a woollen puppet monkey
sporting a purple dressing gown
that's all well and good
in the grand scheme of things
but this scheme has a twist
once the boiling water
leaves a boiling kettle
to hit the bag of leaves
a magic monkey miracle unfolds
as our cheeky simian friend
dissolves his gown of dressing
to reveal an unexpected sight;
you sit and ponder
life's meaning and why
a woollen monkey would discard
his dignity to your chin
but at least he's wearing underwear
all's well that ends well
as the mug cools
so the gown reappears
we can all breathe easy again
as magic monkey mug lives on.
a bit of tea supping fun
May 2018 · 404
Sliding Doors
Chris Neilson May 2018
A man and a woman met
a sliding doors moment of fate
in the wrong place at the wrong time
together with shared bitter baggage
deceived by the same individual
a complex unusual web of deceit
they swapped thoughts then numbers
a bad decision at a bad time
in both their relationships with others
a vulnerable coupling of minds
would soon be a coupling of bodies
revenge, release, **** and guilt
entwined in a bubble of trouble
a real life soap opera too far fetched
for any scriptwriter's ink to reach
both parties fell too deep
into a snake pit filled well of love
bitten time and again in escaping
only to slip back in for more

All affairs of love must end eventually
not always with both parties surviving
a school of thought says
we get what we deserve
they found love again
but not with each other
whether they got what they deserved
will be mused until their lives end
A scenario
May 2018 · 250
Living another day
Chris Neilson May 2018
When I emerge from my slumber
at the birth of another day's light
my lucky stars are thanked
for the breath in my lungs
for the mobility in my limbs

Each day a potential new page
of a new chapter in life's book
of triumph and disaster
all treated equally, of course
as the years run their course

Breaking news can break hearts
but equally create fresh starts
this world can be cruel and heartless
but humanity can be selfless
charitable, heartwarming and kind

As the day unfolds its creases
and navigates its historical course
significance in chance meetings
will emerge in its own time
living in the moment helps memory

Some wish their lives away
ignoring chances to make a change
to the most mundane of days
to say hello to a stranger
for a random act of kindness

When I return to my slumber
after the dying of a day's light
my blessings are counted
for the sight in my eyes
for living another earthly day
So much to be thankful for
May 2018 · 282
May, 8PM
Chris Neilson May 2018
8pm on a May evening
as a day's birdsong wanes
drifting in on a warm breeze
to the centre of my being
a live feathered tweet
this soundtrack to Spring
is so difficult to beat
amidst the urban hum
the joy of a tuneful blackbird's
gift to its beaked beloved

To listen to a May evening
for the rest of my days
would clear a gathering
haze of uncertainty
no love for gloomy January
February snows breed woes
shivering in March's final
throw of the winter dice
Ambivalent to April showers
I'll take May, 'tis here I'll stay
My favourite month
May 2018 · 1.3k
Time for tea
Chris Neilson May 2018
There's a science in making tea
with milk or without
loose leaf or bags
a multitude of herbal types
so don't believe the hype
of coffee snobs bits and bobs
of elitism and choice of beans
pretentious names ending in 'o'
exotic, ****** when said slow

English tea tells it like it is
Tetley, Yorkshire, PG Tips
Ireland has its Barry's Tea
everyone knows a Barry
the bloke down the pub
sitting on his stool at the bar
like Norm and Cliff at Cheers
sinking cold beers
while shooting the breeze
while Frasier sips his
double non-fat decaff latte
on a beanbag in the corner
of the Cafe Nervosa
where no one knows your name
or from where you came

Coffee breath stinks
reminds me of teachers
at school with nicotine nails
so if you ask me
it's time for tea
with a choccy biccie
when a chinwag beckons
with a fellow tea enthusiast
you can trust a tea drinker
they have patience and taste
always sipping without haste

Delicate bone china cups
enhance the tea experience
big daft mugs filled with
evil smelling frappamaclattitianno
or some such name
from a coffee chain
leaves stains on the soul
of the tea fanatic
if you ask me
it's time for tea
Tea rules!
Apr 2018 · 270
Springtime in Paradise
Chris Neilson Apr 2018
My hands clasped as if in prayer
as I absorb the sights sounds
and smells of the early spring morning,
sun low in the bluest of skies
bringing in another day of life
I'm truly grateful for
donkeys march along
their well worn path
occasionally glancing across
at this viewer of their territory
losing myself in birdsong
removed from the urban cacophony
of humanity's unnatural ways
that stresses me; this soothes me
this is where I want to be
this is how I desire to live

The sun warms me now
my inner glow enhanced
by Vitamin D on my skin
at one with nature in its purest form
if this were my final bow
I'd grab it with both hands
in its stead I open and close my eyes
mentally recording these moments
to view later in my mind's eye
my soul nourished
my life reaffirmed
believe me there is beauty
I found it
Next page