"davies" poems
Who put that crease in your soul,
Davies, ready this fine morning
For the staid chapel, where the Book's frown
Sobers the sunlight? Who taught you to pray
And scheme at once, your eyes turning
Skyward, while your swift mind weighs
Your heifer's chances in the next town's
Fair on Thursday? Are your heart's coals
Kindled for God, or is the burning
Of your lean cheeks because you sit
Too near that girl's smouldering gaze?
Tell me, Davies, for the faint breeze
From heaven freshens and I roll in it,
Who taught you your deft poise?
3.3k
*one reason why you're not read with a volume you
expected, jedi-know-how, you'll be easily plagiarised.*
**when i first came to england i fell in love
with manchester united...
the 4 - 4 - 2 line-up**
peter schmeichel (dane goalkeeper),
then ooh aah cantona (eric cantona baseball cap),
original wembley white towers...
(white towers, charity shield
newcastle united)
so meh for the arch....
irwin... steve bruce... lee sharpe...
gary pallister... (7) eric cantona.... george best....
mcclair, ryan giggs,
cotton tomilisom, then roy keane...
then davies cole ****
the neville brothers...
scholes and david beckham...
**** stuck to azkazam fudge, it's still perfectly refrigerated
in kazakhstan:
steve mcmanaman will tell you;
it's a random barricade question worth a shot
in the rubric of a sudden challenge.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 7:41 PM UTC
I found you, cast away in the shadows,
hiding from the laughter, of those
painted clown faces
I found you, on the rooftop
sat with your arms, clasped
to you, wrapped around
Searching through the crowd
blinded, the lights of this
crazy, maddening fairground
Colours forming, moving
the Northern lights, blazing
blues, green, pinks, yellows
Kids and lovers, screaming
the Matterhorn spinning,
a frisbee gondola swinging
Midsummer Fair, a fresh green common
distracted, I turn, the Midnight Express
decorated, loosely dressed women and men
Axles rattling in and out
Ferris wheels, bumper cars, waltzes
Ray Davies playing, side stalls and games
Rubber ducks hooked, fathers shadowing
***** misplacing baskets, a high strike to the bell
in among mirrors, I now find myself reflecting
A cacophony of sounds, noise
music of Bob Bradley penetrating
these convex mirrors, movers and shakers
I pace past drag queens, circus freaks
footsteps moving in timely accord
the Helter Skelter, confused, disorderly haste
I am the whirlwind, climbing outside
the spiral tower, to the top
stars and constellations above
At its peak, I see you
you've climbed onto the rooftop
again
I always found you here
hide and seek, morphed into
children's games of sardines
I find you, you have hidden
I stay with you,
until we are found
Together.
© Sia Jane
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
Here’s is an example from
A butterfly;
That on a rough, hard rock
Happy can lie,
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.
Now let my bed be hard,
No care take I;
I will make my joy
Like this
Small butterfly,
Whose happy heart has power
To make a stone a flower.
ምሳሌ
አነሆ ምሳሌ ለኛ
ከቢራቢሮ
አልቦ ጓደኛ
ሆና ብቸኛ
የድንጋይ አልጋው
ባይሆንም ደንበኛ
ሻካራ ደረቅ አለት ላይ
ረክታ የምትተኛ፣
እኔም አልጋዬ ቢሆን ደረቅ
ከቶ አልሰቀቅ
ግድ የለም አልቸገር
አሁን ደስታዬን ከዚች
ቢራቢሮ ልበደር፣
ልቧ ጉልበት ያለው
አለቱን ወደአበባ ለመቀየር!
(በዊሊያም ሔነሪ ዳቪስ) //
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 8:36 AM UTC
So now we have captain Cook
OK, he might be worth a look
But Andrew Strauss
Back in his house
To my very core I am shook
In the test team new names do pop
With Carberry right at the top
All rounders not thin
With Tredwell for spin
And Wright giving a biff and a bop
Shahzard is there for swing
Of reverse he can be king
And if Prior gets vexed
Steve Davies comes next
Pardon me if start to sing.
Onto the **** One-Day side
This I simply cannot abide
Or believe what I read
Cook is now made to lead
At table bottom we will reside.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 10:53 PM UTC
Avast yer hearty where's the party
where be the festive cheer
no Yule tide log nor mug of grog
to toast this time of year
Shiver me mate an empty plate
where is the fine roast bird
with golden veg around the edge
and gravy thickly stirred
Where be the cake for Davies sake
packed full of fruit and nuts
and marzipan with icing grand
to stuff this pirates guts
No double cream is this a dream
and figgy pudding... None
no sausage rolls or sweet filled bowls
where as your spirit gone
It's times like this I really miss
the indies and the tropics
let's go the pub I'm sure they've grub
and *** from clear optics
We'll make this night happy and bright
we'll share our love with friends
and toast for peace and wars to cease
and suffering to end
Let's do our parts open our hearts
let's share with folks our smile
and day by day in our own way
be happy for awhile
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 8:16 AM UTC
I.
The humdrum whitewashed wall of my balcony
overlooks almost everyone here,
but it’s yellowed in the slightly
past-the-season holiday lights
winking behind my back.
Rip them out, and yet
the still flaming cigarette butts alight
the charred pupils watching.
Never quite willed away.
II.
Today I saw a hairy upper-ankle poking
out from a tie-dye dress
and out-of-fashion Birkenstocks.
Adam leering through
the straightened golden curtains,
and I thought: woman? No.
You wouldn’t catch me out like that.
III.
The end of my mug’s looming
and only now am I confident
in passing personal judgment.
The last drops smile while they cling
resolutely to the inner-rim.
How they refuse to fall!
The sprightly demon climbing
the wet, ridged inner-walls
of my throat is parched,
strumming on my vocal chords,
and I’m singing,
obscenely.
IV.
You can’t come into my house
before I’ve cleaned it up,
flipped the cushions, hidden
all the plastic cups and washed
the clear ones to look like glass.
I’ve gotta Lysol, Clear-ox, and detox,
then I’ll let you in, maybe.
V.
My balcony knows too much about me.
-BRD
Copyright @2012 by Ben Davies
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
O’Brien took
the comic
Sutcliffe was holding
and said
what the ****
you got here Sutcliffe?
give it back O’Brien
he went to ******
back the comic
O’Brien held it away
hey Davies
see what Sutcliffe’s
got inside
the comic cover
and he showed Davies
the magazine
of women
in all states
of undress
look at the **** on her
Davies said
give it back
Sutcliffe said
O’Brien showed you
the centre fold
of some woman
posing in a position
you thought
most uncomfortable
come on O’Brien
give it to me
in case a prefect sees it
and we're hauled
in front of Thompson
and get caned
O’Brien scanned
through more pages
with Davies looking
over his shoulder
where did you get
this magazine from Sutcliffe?
found it
he said
where?
Davies asked
somewhere
Sutcliffe muttered
where somewhere?
O’Brien said
Sutcliffe looked at you
then around
the playground
of the school
under my old man's shoes
in the cupboard
he said quietly
you looked at O’Brien
gaping at the magazine
his eyes peering intently
look at her Davies
fancy waking up
with her beside you huh?
Davies grinned
and pulled the page
to show you
the woman had a mole
on her left breast
you noticed
Sutcliffe snatched back
the magazine
and pulled
the comic cover
back in place
Davies laughed
and O’Brien said
you're a *****
young man Sutcliffe
you enjoyed the look
Sutcliffe said
as he stuffed
the comic into
his inside
coat pocket
and buttoned it up
any more under
your old man's shoes?
O’Brien asked
no
Sutcliffe said
just that one
shame
Davies said
you noticed
Mr Austin’s
sports car drive
into the playground
his pockmarked face
staring at you
from his car seat
Austin’s arrived
Sutcliffe said
you all watched
as he parked his car
then looked away
as he made his way
towards you all
the sky was grey
the start of Fall.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 5:55 AM UTC
Met a girl called Stormy and I took her back to my place
Feelin' guilded, feelin' rich, hiding affairs everywhere
Stop! Pay off. Stay in control
Stormy, please don't write about me
Cuz I'm really not as sane as can be
And there are Reds, under my bed
And there are Putin's men in my head
And there's a slew of FBI, watching me
They keep stoppin' me, touchin' me, catchin' me, coverin' me
Paranoia, self destroyer. Paranoia, Don's destroyer
Well I hardly sleep, then awake 'n start Tweetin' out fears
Stormy looked at him and thought you will pay well my dear
She said Don, so many things go wrong with you
One day you're gonna self-destruct
You're down, then up, 'n then I'll take you out
You got ah good thing goin', why Tweet the self-doubt
Richee boy ya' self-destroyer. Tweetin' boy ya' self-destroyer
Privileged boy's got so much to live for
POTUS to go for, so much to lie for
You blow it all with, paranoia
Don's so insecure, the self-destroyer
Paranoia, it' will destroy ya
(Here he Tweets again!) paranoia, Storm will destroy yah!
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
I lie alone among the walls
Everything is grey and white
I got full moon in my eyes
I am on my way to satellites
Sweet young nurse,she said I was the worst
thing she could recall
Or the worst thing in this zoo
Is it monday or a tuesday
Or a ******* 21st century
They cuffed me to the bed
Til my hands and feet turned red
They said I am a mess
5 minutes from the Davies chest
There was a white-haired guy
He looked like a retired god
Finally at his place
In his greek-styled cloth
Everyone fell off the wagon right into one place
They got spaced minds and swollen faces
The are all insomniac junkies and gods
They got snakes in their boots
Doing their time on a farm, they are all on the rush
And every time the nurse walks by they all have a crush
We are stuck for eternity
For many nights and days
On a halfway to sanity
To get back to our ways
Treacherous sun brought us some news
Blinded my fool moons
This wasted afternoon
Somebody may never get out of this place
Some races end in here in disgrace
Bandaged body over me,no sign of breath
First rays of light brought the first harvest of death
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
A Jim-Davies-esque poster cartoon of my guts
on display at the Smithsonian as though
I could pretend to be any other poet
with my insides outstretched because
I cannot feel without cohesion or medication or
either, or—
it's lost upon synchronization.
I hear some wormy **** gobbling
(insanely might I add)
about Marx or Engels or one or both twice over.
I'm too busy trying to impress myself with this
Jenga block tower of carefully balanced fibs to notice
why you cry when the sun sleeps.
I don't exactly care so much as it intrigues me.
Another feeling stimulating what's lost.
I imagine sunshine & weep.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
What is this life, if full of care,
We social network, unaware....
We sit indoors, connect with friends,
Whilst interaction dies and ends.
No time to spend with kids or spouse,
Thoughts ever beyond the home and house.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Our lives descending into plight.
No time to notice real life's glance,
Viewed from an iPad screen askance.
No time to wait, do things with ease,
Crippled by virtuality's disease.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We social network, unaware.
Matt Revans
©Copyright
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
when I was a kid
it was after the war
i know as they talked of it a lot
sometimes would hear a car coming
and would run to the gate to watch
it and the dust man’s lorry
one driving
two to run and carry
i think
not much traffic then
like now
on a solitary day i may climb
the graveyard wall
stand high and watch it here
like to see the bus , mansel davies
and especially the rock lorries
from up the quarries
helping on the sea defences
king canute
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 1:39 AM UTC
Quite Interesting.
Why am I watching this show on T.V.?
Because it has Stephen Fry and he is so funny.
He is so intelligent, compared to me;
But QI is wonderfully informative.
I learn general knowledge and bits of nonsense;
But even the nonsensical starts to make sense.
Phil Jupitus and Bill Bailey say funny things,
Whilst Alan Davies just seems a bit dim.
This show is great, it’s so good to watch;
Thank Dave for playing QI so much.
They must be careful not to say the obvious answer,
Because the screen will buzz loud and bring much laughter.
They guessed you would say that,
When the real answer is stranger.
So stick your hands in a sharks gills,
To protect you from danger.
General Ignorance will catch them out
And make them say the wrong answer, no doubt.
So watch QI, it’s quite interesting;
It’s the comedy show that just keeps giving.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC
After Aodhan King and Joel Davies' Sinking Deep
Rising tide washes over
as the current pulls you deeper
toward the disarray
of the trench’s bottom
where they lie—-
the wreckage of vessels and barges. Fleets of battleships.
And the sea monsters that reside
just lurking around the corner.
The sweet taste of air—
already forgotten as the sea water
floods inside,
filling every fissure,
saturating everything.
You watch the current take away
pieces of you—- parts
you thought you cannot live without.
You finally decided to let go.
You are drowning.
No—
You are being cleansed.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
some bones of a whale hang from the ceiling
they swam the seven seas just around the corner
while I walked the shore they landed up on
bleached white the flesh had long gone
A whale dives deep into Davies Locker
chasing a squid hiding in a mans boney leftovers....
and I wonder what its thinking..
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
Sutcliffe brings
a magazine
to school
(his old man's
he tells us)
and we group in
under the shelter
near the outside bogs.
He opens it
page by page;
his fingers shaky,
his eyes, blue,
enlarged,
peer the page.
Look at the state
of her,
O’Brien says.
I look over
his shoulder
at the naked dame.
Can you imagine
Miss A doing this
from our old school?
I suggest.
Don't make me puke,
O’Brien says.
What the feck's that?
Sutcliffe asks,
pointing a finger.
It's where
you were born from,
Davies says.
Can't be,
Sutcliffe says,
I was born
in Guy's hospital.
Your mother,
poor cow,
has one of those,
O’Brien says.
Sutcliffe pulls a face
as if he'd bitten
a lemon.
Shan't look at her
the same way again,
he replies.
Turn the page,
I say,
see something other.
He turns the page,
a centrefold,
opens it out,
arms outstretched,
eyes widening.
Wouldn’t say no
to her,
O’Brien says,
scanning in
like a swooping air plane
to dive bomb.
Me, neither,
Sutcliffe mutters.
I see Sutcliffe's
inky fingers shake
on the edges
of the magazine;
the woman has big eyes
peering out,
her nose has an air
of: had your gawk?
We just stare,
no place
to waste words,
we stand,
open mouthed
and don’t talk.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 2:41 AM UTC
I just heard a kink's song in a commercial
I picture Ray Davies turning in his grave
to a dead man, any product is worthless
for a dead man, wishes can't be saved
you really got me when you ask me why
his executor chose money over belief
I picture Ray Davies with tears in his eyes
they should have let him rest in peace
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
Vic Davies
That Davies bloke called Vic
He showed he isn't thick.
His table tennis can get bad,
Especially when he gets mad.
Liz Conolly
Mrs. Conolly, first name Liz,
Really, really is the biz.
Loves a seat at the front table,
Always gets there if she’s able.
**** Staples
Ah, here is **** Staples:
Loves his football from Grimsby to Naples.
Could be a pundit on the telly,
Always gives it plenty of welly.
Phil Sharpe
Mister Sharpe, first name Phil:
At table tennis he knows the drill.
Master of defensive ploys,
Wins his matches with lots of poise.
Ron Dawson (added 9\1\23)
Cider and Ale to Ron Dawson known as Rocket.
He has the whole World in his pocket.
Knows the routes of all the trains:
Lots of knowledge (on brewing and trains) fills his brains.
Paul Butters
© PB 6\1\23.
Jan 6, 2023
Jan 6, 2023 at 3:39 PM UTC
Sutcliffe brought
the cigarettes
into the boys' toilets
(he'd been given them
by his cousin
who was staying
a real live wire
Davies said).
We huddled
at one end
Davies
stood look out
for prefects.
O'Brien
had one lit up
and he lit one
for Davies
and I lit my own
and Sutcliffe took
the final one
and we smoked
huddled together
like old men
in some hostel.
Davies stood look out
smoking and puffing
smoke out
then waving it away.
So what made
your cousin
give you **** then?
O'Brien said.
Sutcliffe blew
out smoke
she said
she'd give me ****
if I took photos of her
with her camera
he said.
What posing ****
Davies said smiling.
No no
Sutcliffe said
just poses of her
in her ******
and bra thing.
You ***** old ******
O'Brien said
what would she want
for a packet of 20?
he added.
She's not like that
Sutcliffe said
it's for a fashion place
she wants to work for.
I took turns
with Davies
and kept look out
by the toilet entrance.
The playground
was full of boys
no prefects around
I could see.
Have you
any photos
of her posing?
Davies said.
In the ****
or otherwise
O' Brien said.
Of course not
Sutcliffe said
she has them developed
then drops them off
at this place
she wants to be
a model at.
What's she like
your cousin?
I asked.
Like?
What do you mean
like?
Sutcliffe said
peering at me.
I mean is she
tall thin
or short and fat?
I said.
She's slim
and average
and has blonde hair
he said.
O'Brien
hugged himself
and said
is this
what you do
with her Sutcliffe?
Sutcliffe took
a deep inhalation
and stared at the wall.
Prefect coming
I said.
We dumped
all cigarettes
down a pan
flushed
then departed
one by one
having had
a our smoke
and fun.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
start again. mid september,the cloak folds around.
dark at the window, rain streams the lights, lorries
drive early. mansel davies.
does the music sound different, does it ease
more readily in autumn. i write in halls, remember
the museum, work steadily, do you understand the delight?
strange that such a simple task can bring such concentration,
pleasure after a long day before. to clarify here, i had a day
at home, working. the clocks are never right.
sbm.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 1:01 AM UTC
Incomer and native,
crowned princes of Orkney arts,
the two communed together
with wind, wave and wilderness.
Their works kindled many hearts
conjured festivals of Island
arts, tragic St. Magnus Opera,
Fairwell to Stromness, poetry,
newsprint and novels.
George Mackay Brown's words,
Peter Maxwell Davies' music,
they left us their works,
left wind, wave and wilderness.
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 5:58 AM UTC
Walnutt brought
cigarettes to school
packet of five.
Davies said
the bogs was best
for a smoke.
I watched out
at the playground
for teachers or prefects.
O'Brien and Sutcliffe
and Davies and Walnutt
stood in a small circle
lighting their cigarettes
from the one match
Sutcliffe had.
O'Brien lit mine
and poked it
between my lips.
My big sister
got them for me
Walnutt said.
Good on
your big sister
O'Brien said.
Have you heard
about Austen
and the competition
he's having for
the best piece
of pottery
Sutcliffe said.
That's me out
I said
he says I couldn't
make a ***
to **** in.
Did he say that?
Davies said.
Not in so
many words
but that's
what he meant
I said.
Who gives a ****
about pottery
O'Brien said
how's your cousin
Sutcliffe?
she had her photo
taken again recently?
any **** pictures
to show?
No she ain't
like that
Sutcliffe said
just modelling stuff.
I looked
at a prefect
walking over
by the woodwork
classroom wall.
Prefect near
I whispered
hiding my cigarette
behind my back
exhaling smoke
through pursed lips.
They all took
deep inhalations
and tossed
the cigarette butts
in the toilet pan.
Davies flushed
the chain.
O'Brien waved
his hand in the air
to wipe away
any smoke.
One by one
we ventured out.
My cigarette
flicked behind.
O'Brien
thanked Walnutt
for the cigarettes
and for being kind.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
fog and mist are very slow to clear,
affecting roads and visibility.
no affection here, no one is moving yet.
we hear mansel davies, see the lights,
they are working men, as are we.
some just start later.
he bet me that i did not do a good days work,
i won, just come and watch me.
sbm.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC
There was the backfield tandem of Doc Blanchard and Glenn Davies on several West Point football teams of the UOS.
There is that power hitting duo of the modern day Yankees - Gary Sanchez and Aaron Judge.
There were those great power hitters of the 70s, I believe, that seemed to come in clusters like Mike Schmidt, Breen Downing, and yes, I believe, John Milner.
There was, of course, Ruth and Gehrig that stood out on the 1927 Yankees.
There's Hawke Leonard and James Harden, an unsung pair of the San Antonia Spurs and the Houston Rockets, respectively, in pro basketball that stand out.
There's Stephan Curry and Kevin Durant, a Mutt and Jeff combination in the Golden State Warriors.
There was a couple of gifted first to play on a University of Illinois basketball team African Americans that were tantalizing good at that time - Mannie Jackson and Governor Vaughn.
There was those 4 great old time Boston Celtics guards; Bob Cousy, Bill Sharman, K.C. Jones, and Sam Jones.
There was Bill Bradley and Dave Debusschere manning the wings of the New York Knickerbockers pro basketball teams of the late sixties, I believe.
There was Ron Kissinger and Glenn Becker, the keystone duo on the Chicago Cubs of the sixties, I believe.
There was Mainstay, reliable pitcher for the Casey Stengal dynasty teams - Vic Raschi and Allie Reynolds and there were great teamsmen of Vince Lombardi's pro football Green Bay Packers Super Bowl team like Dave Hammer, Forrest Gregg, and Boyd Dowler.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC