‘Romancing the Gibbet’ is a collaboration between poet, Ralph Hoyte and historian, Steve Poole, exploring ‘dark tourism’ at sites of extraordinary public execution in Georgian Britain. Poole explains the historical background of a single public hanging. A case from 1772, when William Keeley was found guilty of murdering Joseph Dyer after spotting him flashing hisContinue reading “Romancing the Gibbet (4) The Morrismen Murder”
Don’t stop and let me off By SB The force that kept me on my feet now is causing my days to lengthen. The year’s long day of so much heat. The nightmare of the lasting darkness. Life giving waters that flow away from us. Now group at the far north and south.Continue reading “Apocalypse Poem”
The Prize-winning Poem It will be typed, of course, and not all in capitals: it will use upper and lower case in the normal way; and where a space is usual it will have a space. It will probably be on white paper, or possibly blue, but almost certainly not pink. It will not beContinue reading “The Prize-winning Poem”
Dad’s dog Max Mad Max the Scarlet Fox, is not a fox but a Rough Spanish Collie dog. But, when he’s running towards you bounding out of the bushes you can be forgiven for thinking you were under attack by a beast of the forest. Mad Max can dance and roll over for a tummyContinue reading “Animal Prose Poem”
1 Love poem My butterfly life, never settling with the flower of a wife, I wonder if I am capable of true love or if I am cursed to wonder. How my arms ache to hold, how my lips burn to kiss But, I do not want a butterfly wife. I don’t want aContinue reading “A love Poem”
The Sacrament of the Mundane Tap, tap, morning dear child rap, tap, come along child step, step, help you child up, up, down, down, dressing you child ping, ping, porridge my child ting, ting, tea my child knock, knock, nanny’s child Then I’m gone, silent child.
Brother’s bruise So round and blended edges fade blue and mauve and purple shades into fair skin, slightly indented in. Badge of honour, badge of pride, mother says you should hide. I look at your bruise and then I say “Your are the proof he did not sway. She’ll not mess with you againContinue reading “Poem’s to praise something common”
Writers Block… Writers block, like bow-peep’s lost flock words escape me Lines and white spaces berate me, images flee Caged imagination begging see me and free me Oh! How I hate thee writers block.
Mum Her home in two places can be One her family, is she? The other a mother. Life can be smothered I ritual suffered. Her fresh bread dedication A clean house meditation. Church and then home Regulated, lovingly grown. I fail. I fail the ‘I do’s.’ I fail to choose. I’m wanting more I’m takingContinue reading “Poems from writing retreat”