Poetry2- Page

By Michael Moore If it weren’t for the starsthe night sky might finally be brave enough to snuff out the moon and lay down with the earthwe would plunge into

I sat for 10 daysAs I sat for 10 thousand yearsI watched as the hairs on my headTurned grey and in then brown againI watched as the oceans roseSwallowed islands

NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE they spy the hole in the cloud & dream He lies for the sun smiles & shadows play the waves of grass;  & nothing changes.  She thinks. 

NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE I want my poems to hurt you  cut your cheeks like a Sheffield razor  make you cry like the day you punched   her bedroom wall –

There were two ways I could get to school: 1. Walk past about 10 houses to Harding Street corner, turn left, past Barry the butcher, the greengrocers; Con and Maria,

NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE Sprat  fizz under the current like  a school of ghost thumbs. I tie my hook to the end of the line knot a sinker and cast into

NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE the head is the stain of blood run from my nose to the sheet beneath the neck is the whip that lashes the back to shreds of

NEXUS CREATIVE Send the young ones first The prospects The fodder Feed them stories Of heroic conquest Utu and uppers pick a colour black or red pink is not  welcome