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jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
Pressaging doom,
girls will swoon,
the number was there,
can't write too soon.
Not suspicious?
Nah not me...
well yes,
Something down,
any crap,
feeling worn,
need my nap.
got that number in my mind,
now something in the dark will find....
The Bin-bags will attack,
circle drive them back.
Being flippant,
yeah thats hoping.
Take the mickey,
lay wide open.
To Them. It.
Only wanted,
to have 14.
Now It may come again.
Light on?
That will be dandy.
Pay for flippancy,
deserve it.
Got pals,
big pals.
Oh dear, got in a mess. Playing the fool can kick back. Rather just had 13 and not known.
jeremy wyatt Aug 2014
We drifted through the grey stones,
Looking left.
Looking right.
Always looking wrong.
43 women with your name lie here,
amongst the trim green grass and dried, bunched flowers.
43 women who share a name.....
Do you all begin to blur in memories,
as time blurs days of childhood ?
Or are you still sharp in someones mind, as you are sharp in the picture in my hand.
All those women who shared your name,
and we could find only two.
And neither of them was you.
Still looking for his Mothers resting place.
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
Thrown down from the castle
built inside your dreams
hiding in the forest wild
no way back for you it seems
but in the depths I see a glow
it will reach out to where you lie
only those who care will know
only they will help you  try
feel the power of night skies
start to fly and break your ties
Found this, must have written it on the bus weeks ago on way to Wales, better try it here!
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
The Circus came to a South Wales Town
Big Top and all ****! Even a clown.
Dew them folks were strange to see
couldn't say "Nos da i chi!"
One of the women was ever so hairy
almost as much as Bethan or Mary.
And the elephant that led the parade
broke into the Spar and stole lucozade.
But the thing that got every lass in a whirl
that foreign young lad with an eye for the girls.
They say that his furry body is funky
but I am convinced that they left us a monkey!
So quick up the trees, be it rowan or pine
and ever so handy down in the coal mine.
they'll be back at New Year, when our valley's a chiller
Perhaps when they go they'll leave us a gorilla!
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Acorns lying by a tree,
plenty there for you and me.
but please be careful what you do,
for acorn legends all are true.
Pick up only one or two,
take them gently home with you.
Put them in a secret spot,
not too cold, not too hot.
Watch them shake, and hatch, then giggle!
Acorns are the eggs of squirrels!
jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
Add new,
feels like sin.

Away we go,
Needle in.

Mmm feels fine,
quick write another line.

No-one is looking,
they're watching t.v. or cooking.

Pfist yet more,
my arm is sore.

Watch that spelling,
need counselling!

For poetry?
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Adults are poo,
"Get to bed!"
Teachers are too,
"Is that book not read?"
Pizza is nice,
and chips ,
and mice!
And telling
that "I didn't do....."
But best of all,
My favourite call.
From Mum to us all,
"Dinner's ready!"
some adults aren't poo.....
jeremy wyatt Jun 2011

With you I voyage into places
I never dreamed could exist
you journey through my heart and soul
healing my fears and making me whole
in ways I didn't know possible
I never realised what it was to love so deeply
so desperately and so completely
and with a depth and compassion
that is so intense that I can stand and cry
at just the thought of you and our shared love
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
I've done some dumb things in my life
thats one of the reasons there is no wife
too much talk of poo for women
all this pretty stupid grinning
need a kick up the *** real bad
or a pointy finger when I'm sad
set myself on fire because thats what I like
fell through the ice while riding my bike
ironed a shirt while I was wearing it
got a huge blister on my weeny ***
one day went fishing and got in a flap
caught a nice carp on a lump of cat crap
got my **** stuck in a cracked toilet seat
that took a lump out ooh painful but neat
said to the doctor" when I'm done yelling,
get rid of the pain, but please leave the swelling!"
one thing I do enjoy is a laugh
but that is no good for my epitaph
for a donkey like me my final hurrah
reads here lies Jeremy.... a ******* Too Far
This is my pals fault, she made me do it. She is either bullying, pointing at me or alluring me :o)
jeremy wyatt Jun 2014
The thing is Boy,
Yes, YES! I did need a shower this morning, and ****** lovely it was.
Aye cracking........
Let me tell you three things I got just right with my shower this morning.
First of it was HOT.
Not warm, definitely not lukers, as you said when you where a lad, but ****** lovely and hot.
Like the shower after a shift in The Pit.
Now, notice the capitals there, on The Pit.
Not to make it a loud word, I am simply showing due respect to The Pit.
I spent enough years down that colliery to show it that due respect.
The Pit indeed.

Secondly, there was enough water.
In my shower, not the mine now, pay attention!
It can be hard for folk to hang on to my words, I digress so much, hanging on to my words is like trying to grab a slimy mackerel on a sunny day at Porthcawl Pier.
Now that is a ditry pier, due to littering.
And fishing.
Speaking as a fisherman, with you will notice, a  SMALL f, as I do not profess a great degree of skill in that area, but speaking as a fisherman, I will admit that there is an occasional tendency towards the dropping of litter.
On the pier, that is.
Quite likely elsewhere as well, but then I only fish the pier, see.

Anyway, yes, water.
Enough of it.
Not a ****** half-hearted trickle, an apologetic drip, but a deluge!
Fair flooded me out, it did.
****** marvellous.

Now, there was a third good thing.....
Ahh. THAT was it..
Someone to scrub my back.
Very important indeed.
You see, in The Pit, or at least, in the colliery shower, after a shift, we had good showers.
Hot, they were. Hot and wet, and we would stand there, warming ourselves under the water.
By Christ, my arms were sore after a day on my side with a pick.
And the soap was hard too, like a ruddy brick.
But the water helped see, took the pain away, it did.
Aye, and all the Boys, we would wash each others backs.
That was the way then.
In the showers.
I new my mate's backs better than my missus'
Thirty years scrubbing them.
"Whiter than white" I would say.
When they asked me.
"How is my back Bryn?"
"Whiter than white".
Good days.

Now this shower.
A ****** good one too, It was today.
The Girl who comes in got it just right.
Halfway between five and five and a quarter.
Bang on.
And she washed my back.
Not as hard as the boys would have done,
but good enough for a youngster.
Not bad at all.

All in all, a good shower.
And that means a good day.
I can wheel my chair to look out the front later.

You'll pardon me for going now,
but I have to go to the bathroom see.
A big ****** task for me now.
Still, no-one in till teatime, and I can manage,
if I take it slow.

And thursday I get another shower.
And I will tell you about the days in The Pit again.
Meant to be read in a Welsh accent.
As in Pontrhydyfen.
Not like Richard Burton, who was from Pontrhydyfen, but in the accent the rest of the folk speak.
****** lovely it is too.
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
I was born out of a tunnel
the midwife found it a fight
I turned around and crept back up
wisty for the night
"who said I was to be moved?"
went through my baby head
"I am not yours to command
so I'll stay in here instead!"
Years have passed I'm out at last
in a time of stress and din
still like a child I fear the world
and yearn to climb back in.
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Alice, Alice
I would have built you a palace
A shrine to the divine
that could have been mine
you came in big with your dress
flowery , I confess
like a happy big bloom
a love sonic boom
that I fell
immediately for
the pechouli smell
the big army boots
sweet dreadlocks to the roots
your child bearing eyes
the confident strong
yet wise look on your face
you would tolerate long
and would not bring disgrace
to the wonderful place
we could go to and sit
but my life was so ****
did you see my faint heart
at the back in the dark
of our small grubby shop
all the prices I'd drop
just for you
but I guess that you knew
I wouldn't come through
three times in a day
you headed my way
broad smile
trying to say
"come on! I don't bite!"
but I thought that you might
so I waved you away
now all I can say
I won't see a woman
like you every day
I can't write this stuff  very well. Wistful is tough.
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
Sitting dreaming, mind locked shut
looking into her dark mist
forgetting the living
only the vague dead
flit through her gaze
I am her son
then her husband
she has to go home
to feed her dog
cries with the worry
then a moments sunlight
"Are you new?
You are a lovely wee boy,
you are an Angel!"
No, I am just a cleaner,
I just like to talk to you
that is all I can do
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
An Angel fell down and looked around
this new world of ours she just had found
enthralled by the vaults of evenings sky
nights hand touches heaven high
no ages lost  past times call out
she hears more where there is no shout
she sees why human hearts and eyes
do not all yearn for the heaven's skies
bones of the earth the sweet world's air
she come to see as whole and fair
sees love and wisdom shaped this land
as much as her own God so grand
began to see her time for change
was come and though it felt so strange
vision and love had now outgrown
the bonds of harsh religion flown
ahead lie worlds and dreams all new
a kinder world comes into view
and if ordered home by the King of Kings
she'd stand as a woman and shed her wings
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
She doesn't feel her Angels
that was what  she said
but I saw her aura flaming
fiercely  all around her head
telling how she saved our friend
when he was down so  low
she might not see them lately
but I saw this angel glow
jeremy wyatt May 2012
Angel sweet
angel bright
wrap me in
your arms tonight

a man reborn
a new life starts
your breath my soul
my beating heart
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
You found me in April when the grey was in the skies
So blessed to find there was another Angel flying by
Words of comfort words of light they cross the heaving seas
they help me heal and strengthen grow new shoots upon my tree

You put a smile upon my face although we can be sad
but sometimes tears are what we need not all our grief is bad
We talk and dream across the miles you help to keep me sane
I hope we talk soon in a while and I'll smile once again
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
You can push down on your femoral artery with your thumb
long enough to stay alive till some help comes
one bright flash
shell splinter crash
thigh opens up like it has a zipper
don't quail tell yourself the tears are just the rain
rubber ball heart punctured by a dogs tooth
you can push down on your femoral artery
long enough to cry for your Mum
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
One hundred ways to happiness
a thousand songs to light
different words and rhythyms
you found the one that's right
love and joy and caring
open to the world
secretly or sharing
wings closed or unfurled
try to touch the different
or learn to give them space
of this world or heaven sent
you help us find our place
For my Angel friend Susi x
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
There's something big that's bugging me
like a drumming in my eardrums as I sleep
but I thought of a way to struggle free
Ha ha no need to whine and weep
Lying in bed feeling miles away
from new friends makes me frantic
but my idea that came today
lets concrete over the Atlantic
Only a bucket or two to start
noone will notice over here
spread it out to the worlds apart
makes the States draw slowly near
Ok there will be the odd icicle
crossing the wild and stormy route
but think I can do it on my bicycle
its made by Giant it is a beaut
So I'll head off to buy my trowel
and get a barrow of sand
Listen out for my victorious howl
as I arrive at your happy land!
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
At long Mynd every tenth year you will see
a Fox and a Falcon together and free
hunting and running and flying as one
every tenth year till this world is done

A young priest stands outside the door
full of doubt cold wet and poor
he takes a breath and ventures in
to Shropshire counties oldest inn

No money gold or goods to trade
to eat a bargain quickly made
preach to us youmg priest and see
if words stir hospitality

A deep drawn sigh and eyes that close
he thinks of his lost northern rose
what is it she'd say to do
to speak and get his spirit through

So he spoke of grace and beauty wild
of open space and gentle child
words that made them listen well
stories from his heart to tell

But as they smiled and gave him cheer
inside a crashing wave of fear
for no young priest or friar he
a Scot who from hard strokes does flee

Alexander run hard down to the South
you cost our life with your  angry mouth
why did you speak so out of turn
you know a witch they like to burn

Now ashes swirl where you and I
dreamed beneath the open sky
My hope for you I send this day
take what is left  and fly away

Loss and echoes of his wife
drive him south for a new life
the robes he wears a guise he found
a murdered priest upon the ground

Now drawn to this new place he finds
a thought to stay grows in his mind
sink or swim here he will stay
no more to run or hide away

Alexander the Friar soon became
a preacher of some note and fame
in his hovel in the woods
speaking healing doing good

Then one day he did espy
a quiet young boy creeping by
he followed on and sought to find
the troubles on this poor child's mind


Wee child I see you in the woods
hiding begging like none should
come to me I am no beast
come and eat beside this priest

I'll eat a while and take a rest
but by no priest will my heart rest
the lord and master of this town
would have me killed and hunted down

My story is of grief and woe
my father killed for what he knows
my mother a lady great and good
lay with him in this great wood

And now the Lord fears that my life
can come to haunt his tainted life
to slay my family and **** me
that is what his quest must be

Well boy think on this a while
stay and eat I have some guile
a servant of this friar be
I will protect you keep you free


Alexander thought inside
of how in flames his poor wife died
if he can save this lost wee lad
he knows he makes her spirit glad

So as a servant and a friend
a bargain set at winters end
but more than God our man will show
wisdom of ages he does know

The pair were soon to be well known
into times of trouble thrown
healing helping all they found
Men and beasts wherever found

The boy was one from who healing came
in his young hands was  simple fame
a brood of fox cubs with no mother
he fed them like they were his brothers

But renown for these curious pair
found its way to minds not fair
thoughts of darkness questing mind
what evil brooding lies behind

The Evil Lord set men about
to watch the woods and then find out
who and where the two were there
and bring them to his heartless lair

But whispers in the trees gave word
bark of fox and cry of bird
send the boy away to hide
the priest waits alone inside

They took him in the grey of dawn
dragged him through the forest morn
took him to the Castle cold
for the Lord there to behold


Alexander of Dunguile born to Mary on the White Cairn
would gladly give his life to keep safe the bairn
however much they beat hurt and tortured him
he kept his great silence beneath his face so grim


After two days enough was cried
it won't be said a priest has died
at my hands but this accursed child
I'll hunt with dogs all through the wild

So casting loose the wounded man
with ravening hounds away they ran
hear the fleeing peasants wail
the hell hounds start upon the trail


Hurt and injured Alexander crawled
to the broken hut his forest hall
looking on so desperately
for his friend he tries to see

But blood and footprints on the door
marks of violence stain the floor
he drags himself armed with a knife
can he save this poor wee life


They bound the child upside down to a cross
mocked his child's fear and his pain and his loss
left him to die in the mud at the side of the track
tears on his face and blood on his back

"Heark though lads, this boy of god
hanging wishing he had died..
Let us as Jesus treat him kind
we'll plunge a spear into his side

Then we all can go away
to the inn and end the day
leave this rat the Lord said ****
and drink ale on our Lordships bill!"


Alexander was coming fast
but was so hurt this day his last
spending his final strength and power
like a failing falling flower

All his force spent crawling here
all he can do is lie so near
the boy he sees at the point of death
time to take his final breath

He lies and sees a silent fox
walk to the boy and sniff his locks
as if it recognised the dying soul
and undertook to make him whole

As the life fades and flees at last
a spirit light to the fox is passed
a glance for  boy and priest then fly
away to hillside free and high


As morning comes our Lord rides abroad
to see his deeds and can afford
to feel fulfilled and smug with sin
he always knew that he would win

But Alexander waits a wounded fist
sees the Lord hawk at his wrist
he rides with soldiers to mock the dead
priest's veangance rages in his head

He takes his knife and runs to ****
through swords and blows that will not still
his hate and anger in his head
his heart beats to make this man dead

But "Hold!" his Wife's voice in his mind
"Leave your hate and fear behind"
and as he stumbles to the ground
he hears a sad and wistful sound

He looks deep into the falcon's eye
sees the need for freedom and sky
He moves his blade away from the Lord
his final deed to cut free it's cord


The fox was waiting on the *****
patiently no need to hope
it knew the time almost there
to see his friend now in the air

So evey tenth year in the sky
if you hear a call a haunting cry
watch and maybe you will see
a fox and a falcon running free
jeremy wyatt Jul 2011
Away from you
my life is hard
I'm not complete
a broken shard
begruding time
it passes slow
you're the place
I yearn to go
when your feet
sound on the stair
I feel your warmth
I smell your hair
then I know
for that short time
I'm here with you
and life is fine
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
I would have been going home tomorrow
but there is a flaw in the plan I was to follow
Home is already my life up here
to go back to Wales fills me with fear
Got a ****** funny dread
got my pals worried "Stay here instead!"
"Sell that Welsh car and buy another,
so what don't mind your Dad or Brother."
**** I have to go I know
bus and train, off I will go
music night to miss as well
my friends the most, But *******!
Only five days so why the worry
be back soon in such a hurry
truthful reason I feel this dread
I saw me in my car in a dream quite dead
So this ***** poem will stay all quiet
not put on facebook  friends might riot
get back here soon that is my plan
but please cross your fingers if you can  ;o)
Ride this far on a big motorbike no problem, but got a terrible dread of the car and bus ride, just my ****** mind being weird...and no poems for five days, booooo..... x
jeremy wyatt Aug 2013
She wears the beauty of the morning
like a meadow gently dew-clad
sighs of springs fair breeze
play against my cheek
as we walk through chalk-rooted meadows
She hugs the stones
like a child holds her mother
then departs their grasp smiling eyed
Weaving around stones
Weaving between worlds
We are two strands of this ancient thread
sewing and binding us together through timeless ages
life and love
land and lore
And when we pass beyond these sacred days
the blooms that climb anew each spring
Will carry in their scented flower
the memory of we lover's power
jeremy wyatt Nov 2012
There is damp in the earth of Beggars Well
cool soil marks your passing
smiling oaks ease their feet
fences are folly where butterflies glide
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
What hides behind all the words we read
past broken hearts that still can bleed
fear and grief I can barely concieve
that you continue I hardly believe
some people who suffer are so full of light
it gives them the power to love and to fight
all the world's women bear so much of its pain
they do most of it's healing again and again
so glad to be here at this place and this time
drawn here to write and to listen to rhyme
blessed by the presence of you who live here
with your life and your poems that move me to tears
glad that you have the wee folk to watch over you
I'll send you an Angel so she can watch too
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
When I switch his bathroom light on
the fan starts to turn
a rumble and a whine taking him back through time....

Kaufmann starter kicking off
crack like thunder smoke and cough
from the man on the extinguisher in the smoke
laugh at his cursing you lip-read what he spoke
Wide track rumble to the strip
don't be long she overheats quick
airbourne twenty-four cylinders yell
thank you Rotol Goodyear and Shell
you might sigh for a merlin maybe
but fear this awkward sleeve-valve baby
nothing faster in the sky
get it wrong you are going to die
Fly off track to where she is staying
as you pass you feel her praying
then out across drowned Doggerland
skimming waves speed to command
December greys from sea to sky
hit the coast then climbing high
not trains or targets in the  rubble
today your flying into trouble
Their last big throw to claim the air
put all theirs up from anywhere
trails in the sky mark souls that fall
just men who answered duty's call
over Holland's blasted ports
remember rocketing those forts
now a maelstrom fire and shell
into modern Dante's hell
you picked a speck to follow down
moving fast this chap's no clown
kicking rudder yawing mind
he doesn't see you down behind
A TA 152 now you know
see now howbloody fast they go
push the throttle out to the stop
break the limit wire hope she won't pop
sees you know and spirals round
gaining height you're gaining ground
an elegant sight for both to see
but this is the last thing he will see
Twenty millimetre rounds
make an evil dreadful sound
a mockery of alloy and steel
pulls it apart like the fruit you peel
was that a puff of red you saw
made you gasp a nerve still raw
as the shells chewed up to his cockpit
where a frightened human being sits
gone now in a shower of flame
war and fear this was never a game
low on fuel and cold inside
keep low for home above  the tide
A buzz for her again to show
you made it back but yet you know
however much she has to pray
her heart is breaking every day
A month or two and war will end
Europe for now you did defend..

I turn the light out the fan slows down
notice the tears and then your frown
feel so helpless as you lie
in your bodies prison longing to die
missing so badly the wife who is gone
could you  fly to her beyond the sun
So sad to see you sitting there
your world a bathroom a bed and a chair
we needed you seventy years ago
now it seems nobody wants to know.....
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
A handful of stones are on my floor
some from today some from before
lets take a look and try to see
what the stones would like to be
one is an otter , I can see him
ready to jump and going to swim
next is a dragon tiny and green
only a baby, only a wean
one is a woodmouse ears all spread out
ready to run at danger's first shout
here is a kitten furry and sweet
rolling and playing all over your feet
here is a wickerman waiting to burn
there is a young owl ready to learn
one is a flower one a child on the stairs
another a rabbit two more are for hares
but last of all is the favorite one
well, that is for me, my secret fun...
There is also one that appears to be James toseland on his '07 championship winning Hanspree Ten Kate 1,000 cc Honda fireblade.
Try fitting that into a wee kids poem..
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
So tired and poemed out
got this one then got nowt
want to do more love and hope
so tired I'm feeling like a dope
words are crawling to the screen
tripping on the keyboard in between
hungry but tofar gone to eat
stuck in this familiar seat
got to drag myslf to bed
and get a pillow for my head
wistful here so all alone
not even my cat yet at my home
curl up like a tiny mouse
in his chilly winter house
those last two lines were quite prophetic
hang on, no, the word's pathetic
getting desperate for a rhyme
go now, quick it's past bed time!
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Broken hearts and broken threads
my poetic soul is left for dead
cannot write a single verse
except this stuff here dour or worse
want to write of sun and schemes
of  hares and birds and sweet sweet dreams
but got myself down in a hole
now poetry has lost it's soul
perhaps it will get back to me
feel so sad I cannot see
like filling in some rotten form
not feeling welcomed wanted warm
tried today all morning long
every verse has gone so wrong
Judy post us a challenge please
this new site has me on my knees X
This new site is draining my poetic spirit, feels like a chore every move here ,boo, feel so down about it......
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Perhaps it's just a mood swing
or that sort of weird thing
part of me says no don't stop
part says do your going to pop
put some back-bone in me please
as my future starts to freeze
want to keep on writing well
mixed up and lost who do I tell
all my excitement I told my friend
has gone feels like it is an end
perhaps I'll wake up bright and smiling
or down and all my work defiling
maybe just leave these sites alone
till I lose this self-pitying tone...
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Butcher Bird
A Poem by Jeremy Wyatt
Simulation, brash, aloft, rebel, impale.
High aloft what is it I see
dripping something onto me
like a simulation of Christ's nail
now upon which you did impale

your namesake is less brash than you
happy with beetles and frogs it slew
but something darker does you drive
a rebel slaying all alive

Church steeples high you cherish best
see bodies perched high stiff at rest
the birds put creatures on barbed wire
you place your bigger prey much higher

I've written of you many times
some wee stories some small rhymes
You share a bird name both alike
the Buthcher Bird we know as Shrike
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
Calling all the Angels
beckoning them down
asking them to fly to you
worried by your frown
wrap their wings around you
like your mother holding tight
love amongst the grief of loss
you dwell in Angel's sight
I wrote this hiding in work, wrote several today, shhh.
posting them exactly as they are later , warts and all x
jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
Tracing lines, abstract and refined,
no course to follow, each shape fresh,
unique, more glorious than any hand or eye,
dare attempt to write upon the ground.

Even midst the grime and filth,
beauty scales mountains of foul,
crowning in chaotic perfection,
with frosts sweet, hard hand.

Let us look awhile,
leave with a quiet glance,
no regret or loss,
fresh wonders still await our gaze.
I'm not to sure if my titles always put over what I am feeling. I just whack one down, write a poem then don't change (axcept mi spelln), do they seem relevant to you?
jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
I went to the Sea today,
hunting stones at Carrick bay.
Grass blurs to rock, water waiting,
for the steady pull
of tide and time.

No child with me,
to see the world in wonders way.
To dream that magic here holds sway.
Rocks might rear into the sky,
gulls great dragons passing high.

Pools, lying still, amongst the wrack,
whisper "enter, no glance back".
Mysteries of ancient deep,
in the soothing dark they keep.

Drink the water, tasting warm,
slip into another realm,
playful fishes open- eyed,
gape and gossip as I glide.

A pocket of stones,
a pocket of shell,
thank you Carrick.
You'll do me well.
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
Warm child whispers in my mind
singing of quiet safe sleep womb held
wistful quiet too young for words
red glow of inside carried soft
awaiting futures undreamed
new trauma of light and birth
some so precious fade and fail
but we cherish their wee heartbeats still
Another illicit work poem, got to get them out x
jeremy wyatt Feb 2011
When I was born my brother
saw bad creatures in my cott
so he used a toy car to stab my leg
it bled bad and started to clott
mum thought they tried to take me
the night that I was born
found me stuck behind the head board
unconcious in the morn
when I was four and he was six
Neil saw something on tv
so he touched with a piece of lead
was it a changeling or just me
guess he stopped believing
that my soul was taken out
I think they ****** fooled you
put more in I have no doubt
I never fitted in to well
for all my living days
except for now I don't know how
there's a wind blowing my way
Still got the tiny scar, when I was wee Mum joked how I was behind the bed at 8 hrs old, told me her real theory years later but she was only strange in a wee way, not as whacko as me ;o)
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
A prophet of woe and mischance?
My big white ghost that watches me.
Flies beside in the icy rain,
roe deer running with us in the dark,
to see me home.

It gave that dread unearthly shriek,
Christmas night in the forest, no fright.
Tonight it flew through cars and frost,
to pause at the window as we drove.
To satisfy itself.

No ill omen, no destiny of fear.
Just a spirit,
finding me a course to steer.
Staying near.

He was wrong,
I doubt he ever saw one.
Tyto Alba
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Child on the Sand

Driven before the scouring wind
feather light and bloodied feet
how can a child fly so far and fast
what dread is it she fears to meet
Soft sand of summer play
now harsh the salt stings hard
but the salt in her tears
stings harder still

Her heart hammers
like the pounding of axes
on the body of her father
her gasps like those of her mother
when they held her down
But what she fears the most
the cold stillness of them all
when she crept back
crying in the dark

No grave or burning for them
left as they died before gloating priest
painted cross on broken doors
carved crosses on dead cold flesh
nails and fingers smashed
no spells left to cast
from her mothers hand
her final effort cast protection
over her youngest child

And now she is running
with the dogs and hunters
raging up from behind
and the white surf horses  
crashing down to her side
sweeping up over the stained sand
and as they surge they listen to her voice


"Horses from the ocean
spirits of the sea
aid me in my time of need
help to keep me free
remember you my mother
all the healing from my kin
how we cared for all that breathed
the love we held within"


The hunting pack is closing now
sharp claws tearing her bloodprint steps
men and beasts as one in their desire
to rend and tear and harm
this small child of peace and care
no hurt was ever in her mind
but now she runs with hollow fear
no mother left to hold her near

From far behind a pounding roar
like the pounding of the waves
but mixed now with the stamp of hooves
that come to chase and save
Whitest horses of the Sea
flying now upon the strand
racing in a mighty line
shake the very land

For all the ancient deeds now done
from this child's  line of old
they come to show their gratitude
to ancient vows they hold
No dogs or men can face such force
flashing hooves and streaming manes
and when the herd has run it's course
there is silence once again

But as the White Herd passes on
returning to the sea
no child now runs upon the sand
just one horse racing free


A Mother waits for coming dawn
and  the white mare from the sea
she watches how it circles her
so proud and strong and free
It stands before her straining
and she strokes and wipes it down
the queen of the Ocean Horses
she needs to bear no crown

And as the daylight comes to them
the horse brings forth new life
a naked form upon the ground
she gathered up from strife
Carried  far with gentleness
to a chosen mother's care
fear and running now are done
for the child born of the mare
jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
Ate chips today.
Wahay, thought "I can do this".
Wrong again!
those old scars caught me out,
like devils whistling innocent,
then, jumping out not heaven sent
to snare and snarl and cut.

Close up, shrink that throat.
Close ranks and give thanks
that," we believe,
it will not degenerate"
Dr Mansoor says,
"To the point that leaves you
unable to breathe."

Self trachaeotomy?
Sooner self lobotomy.

But my friends chips were nice.
So is she, looks out for me.
Just carry a knife and tube,
in case I need you!
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Chlamydia, you grumpy cow!
You're twice as grumpy as Sarah the sow.
Half as happy as Jennifer hen,
But ten times better than all the men !

Chlamydia, Chlamydia,
we never will get rid of yer.
A fixture in the draughty barn,
giving us milk and a gossipy yarn.

Have some grass and Chrstmas cake,
have a snooze and then awake,
to a surprise picnic on your floor,
then you can be a grump once more.
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Call myself a Christian,
what the *******!
If Azrael was to get up close,
Then to God He'd run and tell.
"Father, goodness check this one,
something is wrong and needs to be done!
He wears red nail varnish and sings to the dead,
with powerful women alluring his head!
Death Metal songs, Pagan best friend,
flippant poems, the list won't end.
The lost soul should be flogged and hung,
he listens to Camel and Neil Young!
I caught him missing church last week,
his doubts are strong and will is weak.
His other best friend is an Angel he says,
he's seen Her pure light, the love in her gaze
And then there's the spirits, the circles the mirror,
and he says it all works, oh my what a horror!
Just to love Jesus is never enough,
can't tolerate all of his poetry stuff.
Won't you send him a plague, or a bolt from the blue?
There must be some kind of way to get through!"
The Good Lord will pause, says"Azrael you pratt!
It's only Jeremiah, the skinny welsh ****!"
I love everyone more than they know and less than they deserve!
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Stuck looking at a cold grey screen
doesn't feel friendly just feels mean
where went all of the cosiness
I'm sorry but I must confess
that sometimes change for it's own sake
is something maybe to forsake
guess we all must persevere
can't lose what you have all done here
The  ambition to build it I admire
but something got lost aiming higher
still time for something to come through
can't imagine poems without all of you
jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
Something is coming.
Not so far away,
closer now,
than yesterday.

Waiting for the scratching,
or the rattled glass.
Keep praying for my guides.
They  stand fast.
A thought puts Them with me.

but It senses my doubt,
my fears.
Then, from the cold,
It will arrive,
in Guise often new.
But with fears that are old.

Vague, dreadful.
Indistinct, threatening.
I know how to keep them out.
So far, learnt well.
But I need my side,
all those beyond compare.
Help battle my hell.

Tonight I sleep with lights ,
If I sleep at all,
pray the pills kick in and,
tomorrow, I will stand tall.
For a little while.

Something is coming.
jeremy wyatt Jan 2013
The sun and moon rise together
The morning's herald crows and claps his wings
He would have you know
that goats climb the cliffs of rock and promontories
even when they are as wet as fresh dug graves
He would tell you that the weak and worn of heart
Cannot abide long the ire of north-winds
And blow like leaves before her wreak
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Cup and Ring

My rings made in a circle
were carved in summer warm
slowly gowing in the rock
while our child took form

so when you leave the heather
or go beyond the sea
the carvings carry memories
of how you came to me

We spent the summer in the hills
through calm and rain and gales
and as we lay together
we dreamed a thousand tales

You left me in the winter
slain by raiders from the sea
but my rings of stone remember
that short summer we were free
A sneaky work time poem, written while cleaning
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Wee Cute Sparrow

Sparrow sitting in  the tree
her's a juicy worm from me
I stepped upon it on the floor
eat it and I'll fetch some more


Come on little feathered guy
eat so you can soar and fly
wriggly little worm for you
got some for your wee pals too



"Now then funny skinny man
sit down and listen if you can
I'll tell you all about the worms
that make my tiny tummy turn..

They taste of mud and sticky *****
to swallow one is such a fight
to feel one crashing round my belly
makes my legs both go to jelly

What sparrows like is m + m's
posh boat cruises on the Thames
burnt toast served in crystal glass
squashed worms? You can kiss my ***!

One thousand years ago or more
we'd eat a critter of the floor
but sparrows now eat something else
jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
Would you choke him as he swallows you,
bleed all over him as he chews.
Right through.
Or run as soon as he comes in sight,
winter day or summer flight.

I thought they might drown,
ran forward, looked down.
Right down.
And ran as soon as they came in sight.
Winter day, winter fright.

Been there since, looked around.
Where the cliffs  slid to the ground.
Could have bled, rocks  swallowing me,
so I thank Cwn Du for setting me free.
Diolch ym fawr, woof woof!
jeremy wyatt Dec 2010
I'm fretting how the wee girl cried,
how her mama tried,
and bled inside as her angel
all at once distraught
her world in pieces
come to naught.

One little dancers dress forgotten,
one sweet girls day
turned so rotten.

"I want to scoop her up" I heard,
all our minds saying the same words,
GO ON mum, give her a kiss,
a hug or a squeeze, don't be remiss.

Will today live on in her heart,
a ten year old girls day fallen apart?
Or will she be strong , and take her next chance,
the wee little girl with the tears at the dance.
The girl was so sad today, and they tried to get her to join in, she broke her heart and ours too. But there was a lot of love there for her.
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Winters grip pulled tight today
ice crystals grown from dust to diamonds
frozen mist clinging to trees and stream
put my face in  water too cold
felt it shudder like I did begrudging my warm
walking and dreaming and waiting
what do I yearn for I know in my heart
summer's gentle song and touch
and too hold that one dandelion seed
for a little while in my scarred hand
then let it soar for ever
I would be a weight too much
with me it would never fly
just to see her rise will be enough
then I can go and walk alone
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