Launder my lies lord, launder my lies make me safe I pray Here I am on bended knees Pleading to keep my front door keys Launder my lies, dear lord, launder my lies Make me whiter than white Scrub me with brasso and I shall be clean For you are my faithful washing machine O […]
Author: Shirley Martin
The die is cast, the deal is done The virus covid set to run Its course o’er rough and ready jokes Of plaintiff minister’s plaintiff cry Be my judge – hedge your bets to live or die Who are you that ask so loud? So quarrelsome You will be cow’d in ditch cold, dreary, bare […]
O Yea! O yea! Rings London Town Crier, The Master of Downing Street’s pants are on fire!
“I’ve landed a job”, I hear you say “What, not another!” I cry in dismay “Are you finally giving the others up?” “Oh no, not at all. I’m just topping up.” “But won’t it rather get in the way?” “Of what?” sighed he with a mystified sway “Your main job!” I cried, seized by disgust […]
A poem from Shirley Martin on the autumn space before COP 26 and the challenges faced by the world, there Is not enough time.
Begone! A political poem about the state of our country and the moral demise of our political system. It’s our families who mourn in pain.
to say an understanding bonne soiréecares caress time’s well-worn testripening to full blown joie de vivrebright streak of resurrection dawnlook on Easter morn; seet’wards winding route south-east strange pathways can be foundwhere there is wilding growththrough distance blueuntangling unintentional rebut –to cover ground, creased, ivy-boundso now is asked for long repas I am no fair-weather […]
coothie row syne rangle’d rout sock-eyed thick’it aye – on tae victory see the crush’it gimmer red feel the star puls’d trummel’d head yon lone ranger gallopin’ ahead ball tucked firmly under – quick stride one! two! round waist arms threw torso sprawlin’, squirmin’, rollin’ bodies pilling o’wer – thump the turf wi’ puckle’d hard […]
I will not hesitate to hesitate
I will roll-out our roll-down
I will blather on incessantly
absolutely go to town
What to say anew this boxing daywith presents already goneand voices stretched, strained, long drawn outthose well-known grooves so thinly worn St. Stephen knelt and prayed aloudthat forgiveness might be foundby those who midst the clatterheard only rain of stone There was no music therethere was no soft fall snowflake airthere was no hush of […]
This is an extract from a longer epic poem, which we hope to see in a full length publication soon. It covers events over the past four and some years Britons! – an hour is coming an hour you’ve never seen before to the solid ground of institution an axe is now laid at your […]