"wilkinson" poems
Tumbleweed
Ted Old
John Merchant,
Joan Harling
Edith Smith
David Wilkinson,
Mike Waldron
Marie Ainsworth
Ruth Bell,
Lucy Ritchie
A list undignified by death
In an instant deflated, unwound
Vibrant yet now not a breath
Missing, lost, not found
I mourn every one of their names
And all that each one implied
Merely a lifetime ago
They came, they lived, they died.
The bluntness has ruined my mood
With the arrogant stealing of life
It demanded all my attention
Then cynically wielded the knife
I'm trying but their voices are fading
As my brain's recordings wear out
And the clarity of all their faces
Is blurred with the pallor of doubt
So all I have now are some photos
Flat caricatures of their lives
Each one replacing my memory
With a past that cannot be revived
Relentless my list will grow longer
Crushing for each name a line
And my heart will grow ever more heavy
Till the last name that's added,
is mine.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 2:53 AM UTC
She creases her forehead in confusion
She wonders what they say as they pass her by
What are they saying, to whom and why?
They murmur, frown, giggle and titter
As if they have no emotional filter
The little she hears almost brings her to tears
Do they dance to the tune of some shadow puppeteer?
Call them rumors, gossip, lies, hearsay or fabrication
Call them improvised news or forged information
Little difference would it make.
Malicious whispers, known to topple empires
Sunder relationships and cause death
Her chest hurts and she can’t seem to take a breath
As her heart tumbles in her chest, her mind is drawn to Wilkinson v. Downton
In that moment, she could almost relate to Miss Wilkinson.
Ware those Whispers
They travel far and wide
But their source is always close to home
Who tattled? Was it a loved one or a close friend?
She may never know.
Ware those whispers.
They may have as little as a kernel or as much as a boatload of truth
At this point, the defence of truth is surely moot
She called them girls, squad, friends and besties
In their company, she was merely lollygagging
Behind her back, their tongues were wagging
A mere misrepresentation can cause complete devastation
They scoff at her frantic utterances of truth
To them, it is no more than mere superstition
She retreats into her Fortress of Solitude
In this bubble of quietude, she lifts her hands in gratitude
Though she knows it is no more than a blanket fort of self-deception
They continue to natter and chatter
She ceases her cries of protest, for it no longer matters
In calm desperation, she starts to twine the hanging rope
But wait, suicide is still a crime under the law
She stands helpless as the whispers sneak past her defences
She grips her head in an effort to drown out their voices
To this they mutter, “look, surely she is non compos mentis”
Dear child, let them run their mouth for God is thy witness
Guard your tongue for the walls have ears
Calm your heart and hear no whispers
Let them speak, they are no more than vipers
Do not be sad, though you may lose some friends
It is only the beginning and not the end
They may think they have you assessed
But they have no idea how much you’re blessed
And at all times, ware those whispers.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 5:55 PM UTC
for i am a young dude
and i do my art and my writing
and i can get you a root
with anyone in this world
elle macpherson would be nice you say
i can get you a root with her any day
kylie minogue would be pretty rad ya see
i can get you a root with her yeseree
what about lisa wilkinson from the today show
i can get you a root with her any day, buddy
don’t call me buddy for it’s so downgrading
cause if you call me buddy i won’t get you a woman
do you want a woman
i can get ya one
i can find a beautiful woman
so i can ****** my way in
for i am a ******
i have the prefect woman in my data base
that you’ll be interested in
so do you wanna see the woman
i have lined up for you
or do you wanna be square
cause if you are square
you won’t be able to get there
cause with my kind of woman mate,
you’ll be happy
**** beautiful tremendous women
see i am a little young dude
just put your head in my lap
and i will handball it back to you, dudes
cause i am a cool young dude who has a lot of fun
i can find ya a woman and then
i will give ya a kick up the ***
for i am a young dude a little young dude
who loves life a lot
with a dad that wants to stay in my life
by getting in my ****** way
yeah mate yeah mate, i am the coolest dude around
cool people don’t fight
cool people find women for less fortunate people
i give women to people in reference they will leave me alone
i am a young dude little young dude, i am a little young dude
****** oath i am a guy, cause i wanna be young all my life
want a woman, i can get you one RIGHT NOW
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
South Shields memory time.
John Smallshaw
23 April 2013 at 09:01 · London ·
Grandad did keep a pig and chickens also a monkey
which was either sat on his shoulder
or up on the clothes rack
which was set high up in the kitchen,
sometimes we would unfasten the rope that tied the rack
and did that monkey chatter as it fell towards the kitchen table,
happy days.
My Grandad kept in the back garden ,
a big fat rosy coloured pig,
not the one that did a jig
but another
which was certainly a smelly thing.
Grandpa would bring it bits and bobs and
the pig would grunt in its approval
until the day came for the pig's removal.
It ended up in 16 dinner bowls and on one
big serving plate.
I have to say pig tasted great
with apple sauce
but of course
I miss him all the same.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC