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Having noticed a few profiles that refer to poetry I thought it might be a good idea to have a group in  which we could share or comment on each other offerings or just discuss the subject of what often seems to be the Marmite of literary forms.

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Hi Poets. I mainly focus on prose nowadays. It has been a few years since I wrote any poetry. I thought I would air a few things here. Maybe it will help me write more.

The death of a poet

Police were today called to an address in north London, when neighbours had complained about the odd smell. It is believed that occupant is a little known poet who has not been seen for some time. 

I could write forever, a constant surveillance

of all the things that rattle across my awareness.

A list only ending when the clock reaches never. 

When to shop, the click of a heel

the curve of a girl, a whispered promise. 

About every song that’s ever been sung,

every tune that made me smile

all the words that caught in my throat.

The burning issues at the front of our minds,

the wrongs that are done hour by hour.

The lies that are told, the crap we’re sold

about those we abuse for the oil that we use.

The light in the room lessens as the vines begin to cover the window.

The clocks still ticking, Cameron’s fracking, 

Blair moves around with a nonchalant air.

Obama the charmer sell guns by the ton

And Bibi kills kids, run Arab run.

The state of the state is well unfair.

Will food banks start charging interest?...

The NHS must turn a shilling,

and social housing’s going public I hear.

I eat cold Yorkshire pudding and consider how to get food without leaving the keyboard.

The models get thinner the nation gets fatter,

I sink into the eyes of Alexa Chung, overcome with lust.

Cheryl and Simon seem so sincere, X + Why = Zero

the news telling me why I-must-trust-the-government.

Join the army, the ads on the telly look like trailers for

the latest movie about the war on terror. If you can

Fix a bike, a car, a plane, a gun, you can kill, yeah it’s OK

Go on son, you know want to, gaming with glory, imagine that.

The webs in the corners are getting bigger, the windows are all but obscured, I hear a scurrying noise, my eyes flick sideways.

Wow a billion euro’s to land a PC on a rock spinning in space.

This will answer some important questions we’re told

What? Like how to end poverty and war, why

we continue to kill each other by the million?

Is the cure for Ebola up there? Is that where Buddha lives?

Will we find out exactly what US shenanigans gave birth to ISIS?

Will I find out why my pet dog just died one night?

Or what the fuck the point of getting old is, exactly?

I hear music in the distance, odd, but sweet, I sense my 

great loves in the room with me, I see their faces. I no longer feel hungry

And then of course there is me, I could write about me…

My fingers… what… I can’t move my fi……………………………

Hi yes Amanda. I can tell you that police have now gained entry to the building and discovered a body, all they have told us is that it is a man and he was discovered at his desk slumped over his keyboard. 

Wait…. This just in. An early report is saying he appears to have died from malnutrition, Amanda.


Written by Francis de Aguilar© 2014

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Today's the quarter day, when the season changes. Today is the beginning of Autumn, and I notice that the weather's improved already, so it looks like we may get something of an Indian Summer this year. Let's hope so because Summer was something of a washout.

Anyway, in celebration of the change, here's a little ditty I've just knocked up for your delectation and delight.

Quarter Day


It's the quarter day today
the Summer's come and gone
now the clouds have rolled away
and since this morn the sun has shone

the Autumn is upon us for the next three months it seems
so now the Indian Summer can reward us
for putting up with Summer's endless rain that fell in streams
now the skies are blue, the Sun shines out to warm us

no more icy fingered mare's tails looking cold from here on Earth
no more dark and heaving ragged raincloud splinters
soft clouds now gather round to smile at Autumn's timely birth
that will shepherd us from Summer into Winter

seasons march in single file like the hands upon the dial
with the quarter boys appearing when they should
as the clock strikes out to mark the change we give a timeworn smile
to know what come's this Winter would be good

but the weather is a fickle thing it changes in a moment
one minute you can see the Sun is shining
but the next you need a brolly to save you from the torrent
let's just hope the rain cloud has a silver lining

for the next three months somehow we are all Autumn's children now
the mellow season's harvest should be good
when Winter brings a scowl and its icy winds do howl
we'll be glad the crop was cut when best it could 

so don't rush on too fast, but make this season last
enjoy the sunshine while it bathes us all
in its yearly fading glory, that's the never ending story
as the seasons dance to Nature's beck and call 


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It's my wife's birthday today (Tuesday) and she's now an OAP like me. This depressing state has prompted me to put fingers to keyboard once more and pen this rather sombre ditty.


Birthday Blues

Birthdays come but once a year
when young we wished they'd come so fast
but now as ends are drawing near
we wish for less, and hope they'll pass

those aches and pains
and worried brows
the weight that gains
and drags us down

until we can no longer run
and all our efforts are in vain
we can no longer feel the fun
of laughing loudly at the rain

and shouting at the devil time
that swirls around us in the fog
it snipes at us, it is a crime
as it adds new pages to the log

the ledger that keeps track of all
the things we do and all we've said
it follows us through every hall
and place we've lived until we're dead

the leaden weight that looms ahead
of everyone as time moves on
from birth until our dying breath
first we're here and then we're gone



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This'll be my last dittie for a while, so make the most of it. I wll post up other odes when I think of them, but the challenge I set myself has now been fulfilled, and I'm going to take some time off and let my brain have a rest for a while.


The final curtain falls


The curtain rose the people looked
the actors walked onto the stage
the dialogue soon had them hooked
the actions helped them to engage

the first act rolled round to its close
the curtain fell they all relaxed
backstage the actors donned their clothes
ready for the second act

the curtain rose again but now
the plot was thickening by the minute
the audience leaned in row on row
their eagerness now knew no limit

boy met girl then she went off
to steal adventures by herself
he wants her back it's not enough
to know she's safe he's on the shelf

loneliness is creeping in
he pours his heart out then declaims
he'll end it all by close of scene
if she's not back he's so ashamed

of letting her go off without him
to live a life so dangerous
she'd acted on a sudden whim
but life can be so treacherous

and now dark forces close about her
she's in danger he can see
she must escape and he must help her
if she's ever to be free

and so they both run from the stage
the second act is now completed
it's almost like a rite of passage
watching as the tale proceeds

now act three is starting up
the curtain rises swished away
how will the suspense develop
how will the actors now portray

decisive action that resolves
the conflict that's been building through
the first two acts, can it be solved
by heroic deeds and derring do?

we'll find out by the final curtain
if it's worth the hard won fight
will he save her, is she certain
he's the one, her mister right

so at last the scene unfolds
the hero wins and saves the day
his courage and his acts so bold
have saved her, and now she's carried away

slowly the final curtain falls
the play is over let's go home
the man who wrote the tale that's told
is writing now a different tome

a new departure, a new paradigm
needs different skills from those before
a gift for writing words that rhyme
a new stage for him to explore


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Busy day today. I didn't get round to starting today's poem till gone 11 this evening. My back's killing me, but never mind, it's off to bed for me now, to dream of going away somewhere, on a train perhaps?


The end is almost at its nighest


So there I was watching the world go by
well, that's how it felt, but of course
if it'd really passed by I'd be up in the sky
in a space ship, not an old iron horse
but drifting along on the rails for hours
I dreamily looked out of the window
at the fields and hedges and displays of wildflowers
and the walkers enjoying the Sun's warm glow
as they ambled and rambled across green meadows
in line astern to keep on the path
sometimes in sunshine, sometimes in shadow
if that was me I'd soon need a bath
for the sweat from walking hither and yon
would soon make me rather unpleasant
you'd want to be upwind before very long
I really would be quite repellent
but thankfully here I am resting inside
while the clickety clack of the train
lulls my senses, I'm enjoying the ride
and tomorrow if I can I'll do it again

travelling far can be boring I know
but it all depends how far you're going
with hours to kill and nothing to show
for the effort you'd think I'd avoid it, but knowing
the reward for the wait will make it worth while
I'm happy to climb aboard with a smile
and then sit in my seat with my head in the clouds
dreaming it's empty not filled with a crowd
of commuters and locals all chatting away
you'd think they were all on an outing for the day
off across country down to the sea side
a walk on the pier or perhaps a tram ride
and the kids with sand all over their knees
while you rest on the promenade under the trees
and watch the young families there on the beach
with towels and picnic bags just out of reach
mum and dad watching the kids like a hawk
as they play in the surf or go for a walk
along the sea's edge where it reaches the sand
I dream of those days, they all seemed so grand
but now I'm just idly gazing around
and listening vaguely to all of the sounds
of my fellow travellers here on the train
as they talk or do crosswords or read
a good book or perhaps play computer games
while we're tearing along at high speed


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Soggy day today. Not nice for a Monday morning, but then again, I s'pose I'd rather it rained on a weekday than on a weekend. Not long to go now till I reach the end of the marathon. Wednesday is the last day of June, and will be the last of these poems to be posted up for a while. No doubt I'll carry on writing odes, but not on a daily basis. However, when I do put one together I'll post it here.


The end is even nigher than yesterday!


Hit a flat spot in the day
this rain is just not going away
I'll have to sit and look outside
and dream of what the clouds might hide

those clear blue skies we sometimes see
that stretch for miles down here on land
the air although it's there seems empty
it's something we can't understand

the deep deep blue of the endless dome
above our heads when we look up
no matter where on earth we roam
we see the same view, earth enveloped

wrapped in atmosphere so fine
with such deep hue as we can stand
to stop and look is so sublime
to know it's always there at hand

when clouds disburse to leave the sky
clear as crystal in our thoughts
we soar among them up so high
that all our troubles shrink to naught

nothing can depress us there
we feel the joy of endless freedom
nothing can make us despair
as we slide silently at random

first to here and then to there
to see the earth from up above it
we'll have time to float and stare
when we can I know you'll love it


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Overcast, windy, with rain in the air. So much for Summer, eh?


The end is nigher still


Sitting in the garden on a Summer afternoon
the wind blows cold, the dark clouds loom
I'm sure that I feel raindrops in the air
I'm not sure I want to stay in this chair
the cold wind whips around my ankles
to call this Summer really rankles
there's nothing warm and blissful here
no bright Sun to give us cheer
instead we just get cold and rain
I wish it could be Spring again

the weather then was warm and dry
with hardly a cloud up in the sky
the odd comtrail criss-crossed the blue
made me think of time spent with you
when warmth and gentle breezes ruled
and we spent time around the pool
basking in the golden heat
the hot stone slabs would burn my feet
so crocs or sandals were de-rigueur
ah, to think of how we were

but now of course the Summer's here
it's cold enough to bring a tear
to eyes that smart in this cold wind
that whistles round our knees and shins
so pack the coats and scarves and hats
if you want to venture into that
the weather man says that it will stay
the way it is out there today
at least till Autumn, then perhaps
we'll gaze in hope at weather maps
to see if we can go outdoors
or if this cold snap will endure
right through till Winter breezes in
to freeze our faces, cheek and chin
and so the cycle will continue
through till next year when we're into
Spring and Summer once again
when it might live up to its name


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Not feeling too good today. My daughter reckons I've got an infection in the wound where my tooth was removed. I'm inclined to believe her as I'm staggering round like a drunkard all the time and feel both weak and weary all the time I'm awake. So now I've started on some antiboitics to try and overcome it. Let's hope it works, eh? Anyway, tonight's offering follows on from last night's.


The end is nigher


The rocks are bleeding the soil is soaked
the trees lay dying they've lost all hope
there's nothing left now the die is cast
the world won't know when it breathes its last

for when the time comes and all is lost
who'll be left there to count the cost
the price of progress the price of speed
the price of hubris and human greed

such things are forecast and yet dismissed
as though we'll move past the growing list
of things we've done to break the mould
and free ourselves from what seemed old

yet time has taught us that nature knows
how much our power lust will affect those
who follow on from our today
and in tomorrow waste away
for nothing ever seems to last
we know it's never gone so fast

and all our children, and theirs as well
will stir the cauldron of our own hell
yet it's not too late for us to change
but who will want to, they'd seem deranged

the media lambasts those who'd warn
us of disaster they heap the scorn
on anyone who might disagree
with the current fad for the mindless spree

the reckless use of our resources
the spending of what's there
can never be undone by those
who follow us or care

once we've used up all the metals
and we've used up all the oil
we'll need to grow some morals then
to save this mortal coil


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Bit achey this evening, my jaw is still giving me grief, but never mind, I'll get over it sooner or later, meanwhile here's today's little ode.


The end is nigh


It's nearly over, just five more days
then the marathon rhyme fest will come to an end
can't say as I'll miss it when it's gone away
or that I'll mourn as the last one I send

out to the websites that show all my output
there are two of them that I update every day
this page is one of them as you can see but
the other is different in more than one way

for the two separate outlets are both part of something
each one a small part of a much greater whole
but the emphasis each one places on this thing
is notable by the priority of its role

each website caters for a different crowd
some younger some older some women some men
with business and politics, whatever's allowed
and the content differs according to when

and where it gets posted in a group or a forum
the subjects discussed are quite odd in a way
for the readers and writers have different interests
that show in the headings I see every day

some are quite funny and others are strange
when compared across sites if you know what I mean
and there's also a difference in the scope of the range
of each website as it appears on the screen

so I switch every evening one to the other
to get different insights about all my poems
although I sometimes ask myself why do I bother
when I know that I'll still be posting all of my tomes

and I also send them to two other people
family members who aren't in the groups
but who like to know of what I am capable
I email them both so they stay in the loop

that's all there is this evening I'm afraid
I can't think of anything else I could write
but don't worry I'll be back with another tirade
that I'll compose and post up tomorrow night


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I'm off to bed to try and get a bit of an early night, so have some fun and imagine you're out on the beach somewhere, in the fresh air, with the wind blowing and the children throwing sand and pebbles around while the seagulls circle overhead.


On the beach


Kicking pebbles on the beach
making circles in the sand
and skidmarks like a big big fish
that flipped across the strand

and all the time the waves roll in
they break across the rocks
that mark the ending of the beach
it's where the seagulls flock

for there is where the shrimp are found
washed up on the shore
the sea birds cry, a raucous sound
challenging the sea's own roar

watching from the clifftop
the coastguard scans the scene
with his binocs he can search
for anyone who may have been
in trouble out there on the waves
and struggling to keep
themselves from drowning can he save
them from the ocean's deep

meanwhile below a sudden calm
descends upon the action
someone new without a qualm
has spotted the attraction
of all the goings on right there
the seagulls and the waves
the wind that blusters doesn't care
who it hurts or who it saves

the new girl runs across the sand
she trips and comes a cropper
but picks herself up off the floor
recloses her coat's poppers

then shouts out to her puppy
that's bounding t'ward the rocks
but he ignores her he's quite happy
scaring up the flocks

she wipes the dry sand off her clothes
and laughs at her own fall
then runs along to catch him up
and throws a coloured ball

the pup now turns to see her there
and watch the ball fly through the air
it bounces close to where he's stood
he gently bites it though he could
if bitten harder make it pop
it's only plastic it won't stop
the sharpened edge of puppy teeth
he runs to her and drops it 'neath
her shadow by her booted feet
then sits and waits for his next treat

the sailors on the yacht that lies
at anchor out there in the bay
ignore it all and close their eyes
to what's been going on all day

they're here to fish the choppy waters
out there rods and lines arrayed
for flat fish like the plaice and sole
and mackerel they can take away

to cook themselves or sell for profit
to the local bistros
the long day's work will all be worth it
when the day comes to a close

the sun now sets behind the hills
the cliff is just the face of
the coastguard's shift is nearly done
he'll report before he races off

to meet with his own family
they're down here for the day
he's watched his daughter on the beach
playing the hours away

chasing her new puppy
as he ran across the sand
to chase the circling birds away
from the salt sea strand

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I was intrigued by the comment on my last poem that had the phrase "a whimsy in nonchalance" in the first sentence. So I used that phrase as the start of this poem. It's a follow on from yesterday's offering. Enjoy! or not as the case may be.


Shopaholic 2


"A whimsy in nonchalance"
or a grave idea to worry
such is choice, a fine held balance
the option facing many

do we go for the lighter side
or the dark that draws us in
are we angels dressed in white
or demons held within

alone or in pairs
we must climb the stairs
of fate as it opens to us
to live as we find and not be unkind
as we go on not making a fuss

but now that we all know what's what
and maybe even who is who
we can just sit around and chat
perhaps that's what we should do

either that or go outside
and wander down the shops
where we can quickly run and hide
from all those store bound cops

the ones who watch you all the time
even though you're honest
their beady eyes search out the crimes
and errors of the purest

the ones who'd never think to steal
they'd simply die of shame
to dream of trying to conceal
goods about their frame

but cops will seek and cops will find
anything they can
to force confessions (duly signed!)
thus leading to a ban

for shoppers just there for whatever
they can hope to gain
and when the shops sales all begin
it causes them real pain

to be excluded from the store
an outcast looking in
now they cannot shop for more
or rummage in the bins

and even store cards cut in half
are not a disincentive
using cash from their secret stash
now that's being inventive!

somehow addiction must be fed
and new things must be bought
for the demons in their head
at the risk of being caught

still they try and sometimes buy
everything they touch
to grow their haul while at the mall
their fingers claw and clutch

at all the bright things in their sight
and the smell of something new
it may be wrong it may be right
so what are they to do

give in to temptation
accept defeat and fold
or fight to stick to what is right
and keep the need controlled?