Daily Archives: December 6, 2015

Alphabetical Adlestrop bt Mark Totterdell

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

A Adlestrop, Adlestrop afternoon,
all and, and and, and and, and and, and and,
and bare, because birds, blackbird,
by came, cleared close.

Cloudlets drew dry, express fair.
Farther, farther for Gloucestershire grass,
haycocks, heat high. Him his hissed.
I, I in it, June, late, left less lonely.

Meadowsweet minute. Mistier name, name.
No, no, no, of of on one, one, one
only Oxfordshire platform, remember round.
Sang. Saw someone. Sky. Steam still than that.

The the the the the the the the;
there, throat train! Unwontedly up
was, was what? Whit? Willow? Willow-herb?

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Hell by Antony Owen

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Enter this kingdom through drawbridges of tongues.

Read the black text authored by man and weeping gods –

that dark rain, that black page of sky; that waxed stamp of sun;

drown in fathoms of iris moats that held a million tender memories.


Listen to folklore of ghosts leaving mouths as they are marooned

like clam black shells that died by rivers slowed by bone.

Look at the water it is full of red demons once white

as chrysanthemums on mile wide graves.


Please do not leave this kingdom that the greatest minds built.

We must rebuild our learning before new cities

and look into eyes of those who remain

to see hell is only made by the blind.

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Spring Letters by Antony Owen

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

Those trees write essays of blossom and fall
and sometimes strike twigs of lightening
to show us that roots lie in all things,
branches bellow in our blood
of strange white blooms,
clockwork leukaemia
hands stop moving,
radioactive graves
jigsaw pictures of
petri dish ghosts.
Scalp Hiroshima
back to bloom
I was human
our roots
are similar
inside we are all the same –
red blossoms are made of blood capillaries.

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Koventrieren by Antony Owen

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

(Koventrieren – A word introduced after the Coventry Blitz into the German language roughly meaning ‘to destroy a city from the air’)


I heard unspoken communions made

which old people keep until death beds.

The wine of her wounds on bomb glow breasts

exposed by luftwaffe and a deep rooted shame

you had to admit before guilt and cancer ate you.


If only you had laid him three yards to the left

you would both be arm in arm down high street now.

Mother and son in a beautiful chain of events

that began in the blitz and ended in your crib.

This never happened because you fed him on time.

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Trolls of the Aioi Bridge by Antony Owen

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

“Well come along! I’ve got two spears and I’ll poke your eyeballs out at your ears; I’ve got besides two curling-stones, and I’ll crush you to bits, body and bones”

From Three Billy Goats Gruff



Once upon a time in Hiroshima  –

Mother’s read fairy-tales and omens

of trolls under bridges to fearless children.


Atomic rivers were cauldrons of men

women, and children gobbled up into trolls.

Human monsters queued up to join them.


I want to write a war poem without monsters

where all of us live happily ever after

but this would have to be a fairy- tale


where the ending is decided by hell makers.

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Sorry by Kevin Reid

I am not a silent poet

for Siraj

Last week my cousin was shot,
yesterday, a close friend.
I can’t cry anymore.

I’m going for asylum now,
I’ve been in the UK for two years,
they say it takes a long time.

They stopped me volunteering.
I’m not here for money,
I have my own,

but it’s poor against the pound. Here,
people are suspicious, I understand why.
I’m not a terrorist. I can’t go back

to my country, I’m westernized,
they’ll kill me.

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We May Not Sing by Geraldine Green

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

the wolf song

but we can and must try

and the bee song tree song

insect and amphibian song

the old songs

the flower nations

bird sisters bird brothers

sister moon brother sun and

lizard song

must sing the spring song

the old songs

the bee songs

wolf songs worm song

badger hare

and jay song

never forget the old songs

they are our heart ways

our pathways

the spirit way back

to our selves.


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Paranomia: Suites by Peter J. King

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky



Peter J. King (b. 1956; Boston, Lincolnshire) was active on the London poetry scene in the 1970s, running Tapocketa Press, and co-founding words worth magazine.  In 1980 he took up philosophy, and is lecturer in philosophy at Pembroke College and St Edmund Hall, Oxford.  Returning intermittently to poetry, including translation from Modern Greek with Andrea Christofidou, he began seriously writing poetry again in 2013, including translation from German, and has been published in journals such as Tears in the Fence, Dream Catcher, New Walk, The Stare’s Nest, I Am Not a Silent Poet, Three Drops from a Cauldron, and streetcake.


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Machine in the Ghost by Ira Lightman

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

there is a ghost school

your rectangle nests in it and

is a school with a name

mine may square have could

perhaps bebeen


there is a call to

no call to

bell hour clock second minute

counted cost


blubber to a chum

concertina memories


a hand perpendicular on the z

from a face


reassemble ass-let us be


aged 4 to 5 waddle in the


noise and eye’s-cries is


booth your partake

five year term primaries

five year term go to my office


in seven years all the cells

and even the head gone



now test labour-rat-TORY conditions

insultation quest on air


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