The Top 5 Poems of the Month

I’d always looked for reasons, wanted actions justified
Searched for reassurance – whenever criticized
Questioned my integrity, my answers got refused
I created validation so my actions were excused
My search continued blindly, my habits stayed the same
Oblivious to change, too vain to take the blame
Hindsight could have showed to me the error of my ways
But it came in sight too late; my mistakes were all in play

I failed to recognise, all the gifts that I’d been sent
Instead I used excuses –and my gifts were left unspent
So much easier to blame and to turn the other cheek
Using obstacles not reasons as to why I acted weak
"if I’d been born on Tuesday, I’d have been so full of grace
Instead I was a Mondays child, poor me a pale fair face"

But from every sleeping victim, a hero can arise
To learn from my mistakes I changed a loss into a prize
I’ve turned my life around, once a failure now a master
Farewell to who I was, an architect of my disaster

Caught by a ruthless force
That estranges flowery happiness
From the beams of May;
Alone, while poetry witnesses
A gap among low lands
Of flood devastating every green,
Widened the water,
Narrowed the bank,
Confronting a sort of loss
Till the close of a day;
Trivialised that the visible invisibility
Frowned his browse
Along with frightened flocks
And revolving stars
Leaving in films a concentric ring
Over another and another; the poet
Tenderly raises his head
Upon the dome
Of many a yesterday
And tomorrows- -
Where flowers, rains,winds and snows
Take part in mutation in a void

There he learns
To bend and salute
The labouring hands of old
For another new life
Sprout with herbs
And rise with stars

Dust

It’s grim up north they say in monotone voices,
Stuffed full of authenticity but without colour.
They say we are all puddings up here and maybe so,
An array of sugar coated, calorie soaked treats.

We gave them coal to warm their feet in winter,
As they habitually tuned in to Coronation Street.
Still they laugh at our lingo and sneer at our bingo,
Act surprised when we accidentally start to achieve.

There is no line scraped in white playground chalk,
Except in the heads and hearts of each one of us,
And there that line is invisible, yet impenetrable.
A sense of identity but something infinitely deeper.

I spoke to a man on Dog Hill late last summer,
A veteran of some far off trip to hell perhaps,
Or perhaps a lifetime digging like a blind mole,
Had hardened his heart as well as his leather hands.

He told me of how he shouted at the telly now and then,
Particularly as he watched the ten-o-clock news,
‘Ah dunt know why the dunt spayk bleedin’ normal,
The orlas av to spayk darn to folk like me an thee’

It’s great up north they say in a carnival of voices,
Cold, damp and smoggy just how we like it they cry.
A dawn chorus of old men coughing up coal and steel
Brings in the new day, full of colour and of song.

I watch the day retreat to dusk,
Coating the sky with its fire red husk.
This world it seemed was simple and true,
I felt at peace when I thought of you.

My maiden fair with eyes so deep,
Whose radiant beauty makes me weep.
Alone I stand at our Hamlet’s door,
My tears cascade upon the floor.

The memory of you burns bright within,
Torturing my soul with mortal sin.
How could they take my beautiful bride?
I long for her presence by my side.

The ones who fought finally turned and fled,
The ones who ran have turned the fields red.
Spilt blood forms to create a river,
I’ve lost my faith in our God the giver.

I know from life we’ve much to gain,
Bathed in sunshine, alive in the rain.
From now ‘till the end all that I can see,
Is this long and lonely life waiting for me.

To submit a poem to the Online Poetry Competition, email inbox@forwardpress.co.uk (Enter Top 5 Poems of the Month in the subject line, including your name and postal address)

Or post your poems to Top 5 Poems of the Month, Forward Press Ltd, Remus House, Coltsfoot Drive, Peterborough PE2 9JX (Write your name and address on each piece of work you send)