Great Poetry Circle

Great Poetry Circle

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Selection of Great Poetry and some from Tommy Stroller - choose your category - and see my other sites -
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Poems Read On My 70th Birthday In Order of Date

Tommys 70th Birthday PoemsPosted by Graham Thompson Mon, July 16, 2018 03:58:34
They Have Cut the Wheat


They have cut the wheat I lay in.

We lay there tucked close by wheat and thunder.

Today the rains will crumble

The summer soils which bore the grain.

They have burnt the willow I sat on.

We sat there haunched to steal the sun

But autumn fires have spread

From burning stalks – we had to run.

They have cleared the copse I loved in.

We loved in greying skies with bodies burning.

The sharpest blades have turned

The leaves to darker soils.

They have filled the towns with people.

I never noticed them before.

Winter's filled their cups with flesh,

The flesh which tendered every grain.


1965
17 years old


Promenade des Anglais


Bare-foot delights

stroke my tinsel hair

and whisper all day long

on sun-warmed pebbles

The singer raises coarse thoughts

to the opal blue med-sky

in a rhyme

without reason

And we all listen

spell.........bound

The brown skin pulls me down

& asks me

play me

“Baby in Black?”

(My strange smelling gypsy love

it is you

I long for

but you are not

in black)

The guitar is passed

hand to hand

around the circle

to mine

My thoughts are much too sacred

to share so

I hum

“Babeee's in Black!”

she pleads

Those young firm breasts

I'll never fondle

except in my dreams

The French

stacattoes past my mind

The Deutschlander

Hans ze aktor

En plus, en plus


Russian Nureyev

never speaks

just leans

o'er the railing

jealous of our

poverty

of our

freedom

I´m tired of foreign languages

even my own

bouncing around

my head

Night pulls its sensual body

over our small bright lights

& finds us harboured

on the port's walls


Everday we are begging

like lost children

for more

bandana necked &

promenaded hats

for lilly-rich ladies

in Paris mode

Soon the

our cold stone bed

will wrap us

in its own white warmth

and the sea

will swing and call

in the moments of our dreams


1965 Nice











Fill in only if you are not real





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