3 x new workshop poems

Dear all;

Here are three more new poems
as done at a creative writing workshop
I attended on 30th September 2008.

I've amended the second one
a bit since then, but I've tried
to keep them as close to what
they were on the night.

Thought I would share them with you
as examples of what you can produce
at workshop environments sometimes.

Happy Reading

Andy N!


Gone Away

I saw you in a dream recently
like an unexpected ending.

I saw you in a dream recently
and you stood there as pissed off
like the last time I saw you.

I saw you there again
with your circular glasses
and a crap t shirt
of some terrible metal band
that stood out
like a sore thumb

I saw you there again
moaning about your two daughters
and two failed marriages
(one of which I didn't even
know had finished)
before you eventually said
'I'm sorry I was so stupid
last time I spoke to you
how are you feeling nowadays?'

'All the better you ain't
in my life anymore'
I answered.


Inventory found at the Suicide of a poet

There was a TV set minus a plug
in the living room
and a micro-wave
that looked like it
hadn't being used in months
in the kitchen.

The fridge was littered
with out of date
bottles of lagers
and cheese that turned
my stomach off
with the
smell off it.

The bookshelf in the
living room
contained several books
that was overdue
by several years
from the local library
and there
was a scattering
of dirty magazines
hidden badly
behind
the back of the shelf.

The front room
was empty.

His bedroom
had clothes scattered
all over the floor
like it was a
artistic statement.

The front room
was empty.

There was an
battered acoustic guitar
on the bed
with several strings
on the floor
that had clearly
being pulled
out in tempter.

His sofa
next to his TV
clearly shown signs
of being slept on
more than once
and a notebook
laptop
was left
on the side
of it
which had being
left on
clearly by accident.

The front room
was empty.

There was a notebook
on the kitchen table
which looked like
he was halfway
through writing
a note to
his milkman
to let him
he was going to
be going away
for a little while.

The letter was closer
to the truth
than anybody
realised.


Once upon a time

Once upon a time
people used to queue
up there in droves.

Once upon a time
people used to spend their
Friday nights there.

And their Saturday nights.

Once upon a time
people used to stand there
with fake smiles
and broken promises.


Once upon a time
people used to have
a good time here.

Young and old.

Black and white.

Once upon a time
people used to queue
up there in droves.

But then the police
shut it down with their
fake smiles
and broken promises.


(Dedicated to the memory
of The Hacienda)