What I Saw In London..
A full on confrontation between two angry guys,
Which made me stop in my tracks and avert my eyes.
At the Royal Festival Hall, a singer and a jazz band.
Couples whirling each other round the ballroom, holding hands.
A film crew by Gabriel's Wharf, filming 'Pop Up Quiz, '
Although, I haven't the faintest what that exactly is! ?
A young woman near the bridge of Blackfriars,
Performing operatic pieces till her hearts desire.
A middle aged man playing solo acoustic guitar,
Sat strumming away, just along from the riverside bar.
A lone trumpeter playing a rendition of 'Amazing Grace' -
I love buskers: They really add to the ambience of the place.
In Embankment Gardens, there was an American school band,
But I only stopped for a while, as the heat I just couldn't stand.
Under Waterloo Bridge, the famous book fair:
I looked around, but didn't buy anything there.
A pebble, a young boy, along the water skimmed,
Just done on a single moment's heartfelt whim.
Sand artists at work on the small exposed beach.
People sitting, relaxing on the wooden seats.
Lots of people dining under umbrellas in the shade,
Eating mouth watering food, all freshly made.
The Globe Theatre shop, where I went to take a look,
And ended up buying a very useful Shakespeare book.
Children getting soaked in the fountains, making a din.
I loved the feeling of the cooling spray on my very hot skin.
And as I walked back to Waterloo, en route,
I came across a magazine photo shoot.
You never know what things you may find,
And it's nice to paint a picture in your mind.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer On The South Bank
Nothing quite beats strolling along
London's South Bank in the sun.
From the cafes and bars laughter is heard.
The vibe is electric. There's a real sense of fun.
Like a giant bicycle wheel,
Turning slowly, is the London Eye.
Its numerous see-through pods
Carrying passengers way up high.
The 'Appearing Rooms' art installation,
Has constantly dancing water jets.
Small children in swimwear, shriek with joy,
As them, the water cools and wets.
In the ballroom at the Royal Festival Hall,
There's often entertainment for free.
You can watch singers, dancers or musicians,
While sitting having cake and a cup of tea.
Out on the rolling River Thames,
There's boats of all kinds, including catamarans.
As they pass under the numerous bridges,
Passers-by smile and wave their hands.
At Gabriel's Wharf, a bit further along,
The smell of garlic lingers in the air.
People sit outside eating pizza and pasta,
Chatting and relaxing, without a care.
The sand sculptors work away
On the small beach left by the tide.
When the water, once again, rises,
Their masterpieces, it will wash away and hide.
Keep going, and you come to the Globe,
Where the roar of the crowd can be heard.
This round wooden 'O' is dedicated
To keeping alive Shakespeare's word.
Ice cream vans are dotted along the way,
Selling strawberry, vanilla and chocolate ice.
They often also sell other snacks and drinks.
With their wares, customers they try to entice.
Caught up in the atmosphere,
It's hard to tear yourself away,
But you finally leave the thrilling throng,
In the knowledge that you can repeat it all another day.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Johnny B. Goode
Deep down in louisianna
Close to new orleans,
Way back up in the woods
Among the evergreens,
There stand a country cabin
Made of clay and wood,
Where lives a young country boy
Named johnny b.goode,
He never ever learned
To read or write a book so well,
But he could play his guitar
Just like a-ringing a bell.
Go go, go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Aah johnny b.goode!
He used to carry his guitar
In a gunny sack,
Sit beneath the trees
By the railroad track.
Oh sitting and a-playing
In the shade,
Drumming to the rhythm
That the drivers made.
People passing by
Used to stop and say:
My oh my,
That country boy can play.
Go go, go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Aah johnny b.goode!
Well his mama told him:
Someday you will be a man.
And you will be the leader
Of a big old band.
Many people coming
From miles around,
To hear you play your music
Till the sun goes down.
Maybe some day
Your name will be in light,
Saying: johnny
B. goode tonight!
Go go, go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Go johnny go go go!
Aah johnny b.goode!
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hot Coffee, Warm Smiles
We walked along many London streets;
We stopped at a pub for something to eat.
We walked around for miles and miles;
We saw a sign: ‘hot coffee, warm smiles.'
I stopped to listen to a brass band play:
My friend didn't realise and walked away.
It was in Oxford Street, that I lost my friend,
But we were happily reunited in the end.
Dark chocolate with chilli, by me, was savoured;
I bought a festive latte: gingerbread flavoured.
At festive shop windows, we stopped and stared;
We lost ourselves in the middle of Mayfair.
At the Christmas lights, we both loved to look;
I bought myself some Christmas themed books.
We battled our way through the dense crowds;
The noise from the traffic was extremely loud.
The South Bank Centre's towers shone pink and blue;
From Jubilee Bridge, there was a really nice view.
There was a cold nip in the air, but it didn't rain;
Back at Waterloo, tired out, we boarded a train.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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View from A Bridge
Outside the Festival Hall, folk are sitting around,
Beneath parasols of red, yellow, orange, and brown.
Waterloo Bridge is all choked up with red buses.
Beneath my feet, a yellow speedboat now rushes.
Across the bridge, youngsters scoot and skate.
I see some buskers: catchy music, they create.
Atop Somerset House, I can see the huge clock.
By the pier, I can see tourist boats ready to dock.
A row of flags flutters in the soft, summer breeze.
The river down below is lined with rustling trees.
With bright banners, the Festival Hall is adorned.
In the distance, I see the iconic dome of St Paul's.
Down on the Embankment, cars are nose to tail:
Their crawling pace is like that of a garden snail.
An ambulance rushes by, using its blues and twos.
On the pier below, for boat trips, there are queues.
In to Charing Cross Station, there now pulls a train.
Dotted around, on the horizon, are towering cranes.
‘The Shard' building is now almost to its full height.
The view from this bridge is such a wonderful sight.
Often, when I cross this bridge, I pause for a while:
This amazing view is guaranteed to make me smile.
One of my favourite views ever, is this very skyline,
And while I am here, this wonderful view is all mine.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Phone Gift
Cedric gave you a photograph
in the playground
making sure no one
was looking his way first
Christina said to give you this
he said
you took the photograph
and gazed at a picture
of a girl laughing
with dark hair
looking at the camera
in mid pose
thanks
you said
putting the photo
in the inside pocket
of your jacket
she said she'd meet you
on the playing field lunchtime
Cedric informed
unimpressed
ok thanks
you said
to Cedric's departing back
at lunchtime
after eating your sandwiches
and fruitcake
your mother had made
and the watered-down juice
you went to the playing field
and looked for Christina
amongst the hordes
of boys and girls
basking in the sun
or playing ball
then hands covered your eyes
and a voice said
guess who?
you said
Marilyn Monroe?
the hands left your eyes
and Christina said
no it's me
and she stood there
her eyes almost feeling you
as they moved over you
did you get my photo?
she asked
yes it's in my pocket
you said
don't show it to others
she said
I'll keep it under my pillow
you said
I sneaked it out
while no one was looking
this morning
she informed
I'll be for it
if they find out
she said
when was it taken?
you asked
last summer
she said
when I was 12
you don't look 12
in the photo
you said
do I look 13 now?
she asked
she grabbed your hand
and walked you across
the playing field
not waiting
for your reply
you wondered if Goldfinch
or Rolland were watching
while kicking ball
Goldfinch said girls
were an alien race
and best steered clear of
at best ignored
she stopped on the edge
of the playing field
where a small woods
formed the boundary of the field
and looking back
towards the school
some distance away
she whispered in your ear
you'll see just how 13 I am
in that woods one day
and you gave a sigh
noticing big puffy clouds
in a bright blue sky.
poem by Terry Collett
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Simple Pleasures
In our lives, there are many little pleasures;
Little moments which we love to treasure.
Things which, on your face, put a smile,
Even if only for the very briefest while.
Sleeping between freshly laundered cotton sheets.
Breakfast in bed is an experience, which can’t be beat.
Discovering that you’ve at last lost a few pounds in weight.
Going to the cinema to see the latest film with a good mate.
Browsing around a second hand bookshop.
Making the bubbles on bubble-wrap pop!
Sitting, browsing through your old photos.
Playing about in the freshly fallen snow.
Singing your heart out to your favourite song in your car.
Meeting up for a drink with your friends at a local bar.
Curling up on the sofa with a hot drink and a good book.
Someone paying you a compliment on the way you look.
Waking up, thinking it’s a workday, and then discovering it’s the weekend.
Having a relaxing, girly night in, with your all of your close girlfriends.
When you make someone’s face light up with a big smile.
Catching up with old friends, you haven’t seen for a while.
Discovering a tenner in you pocket, which you forgot was there.
The odour of freshly cut grass filling the summer air.
Finding yourself in the quickest supermarket queue.
Having a relaxing massage or getting a new hair-do.
Getting all dressed up for a great, fun night out.
Eating your Mum’s Sunday roast, without a doubt.
Reading a good book on holiday by the pool.
The side of the pillow, which is lovely and cool.
When a random person smiles at you in the street,
Or when a person on a bus or train, gives you their seat.
Excitedly watching the very first snowfall of the year.
After work, sitting relaxing, sipping a nice, ice-cold beer.
Seeing a small baby clap their hands and joyfully laugh.
Lying back and relaxing in a luxurious, warm bubble bath.
When, from a friend, you receive a colourful, news filled letter.
When something happens, which makes everything feel better.
Different things bring different people pleasure,
So it can be difficult to calculate the exact measure.
But I suspect that at least one of the above,
Describes something which you really love.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riverside
Seen her get up, seen her go down
Down to the riverside
Seen her jump into the river and drown
Down to the riverside
People do just what they will
Dont matter to the river, its running still
Sun come up, sun go down
Down to the riverside
Sun jump into the river and drown
Down to the riverside
Every day just like the last
We sit and watch the water pass
Came a day the built a bridge
Down to the riverside
Over the way, on top of the ridge
Down to the riverside
Built a bridge for people to cross
But every other day, someone jumping off
You might think some boys they got it made
Down to the riverside
They got the money and the women and a place in the shade
Down to the riverside
That aint no way to ease the pain
Cant listen to the river when it calls your name
song performed by by Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love With Strings Attached
My first love wasn't flesh and blood
She was wood metal and plastic
With curves that drove men wild
My Gibson SG the best guitar I ever owned
Running my fingers up and down her neck
Applying pressure in all the right places
While stroking her firmly with my other hand
Coaxing from her a scream of sheer pleasure
No tremelo bar vibrato by hand
Playing her was almost as good as sex
And when we were done she didn't ask Do you love me
But I did love her
Holding her I was a rock star
Playing before thousands of screaming fans
Not really just some of the neighborhood girls
A teenager playing guitar in a basement band
One of maybe five or six on the block
Playing just as much to impress the girls
Than as for the love of the music
Saturday afternoon grab my guitar
Meet the rest of the band in the drummers basement
We kept our equipment there
Except for the small amp I had at home for practice
The music would flow out into the street
Through the open basement windows
One by one the neighborhood girls would come by
Practicing flirting with the band members
That's how I met her
The girl who would bear my children
Her curves drove me wild
And my SG couldn't compete
We fooled around she got pregnant
Doing the right thing I married her
Our daughter was the most beautiful baby ever born
Here I was a teen-aged husband and father
When money started getting tight
We sold things we felt we didn't need
Until we ran out of such items
And there was only one thing left
I took the SG to a local guitar store
They offered me a fair price
I accepted it
Back home I cried for losing my first love
And my infant daughter cried along with me
2005
poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
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Victor Should Have Been A Jazz Musician
I went to a concert, to see nina, simone,
The concert was over, there was still a band playing, the rap up,
The booguh played with his hands, I close my eyes, and look at him,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
I said to myself, victor should have been a jazz musician,
I looked at his face, and I saw victor, looked at his smile, and I saw victor,
I looked at his hair, and thought,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
And the people dancing on the floor, dancing on the floor, were so high,
You should have seen victor smile, you should have seen victor smile,
As they danced all the while all around on the floor, and he laughed,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Oh, victor should have been a jazz musician,
He was playing so nice, the jazz musician,
Ah, ah,
Hes living in a fast beat, in a city thats hot,
Telling all the latinos and puerto ricans, victor seems happy, but he doesnt even know himself, hes gotta look inside to know his first love,
Victor was a jazz musician, he was playing so nice, victor was a jazz musician, (? ) victor was a jazz musician,
Victor loves his music, he loves his music, somewhere, he plays his music, somewhere,
Victor is a jazz musician,
Jazz.
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take A Good Look At Our Home Land
Oh people of America, people of America
Take a good look at our homeland
Do you really understand
Before you finish reading this poem
Do you have a daughter or son
Young people are leaving their home at an early age
Yet, there is a need for someone to be saved
Take a good look at our homeland
Many people are playing in the same band
Along the eastern coast of our nation
What do you see in the making?
Oh America, America, America
Why not be a complete free nation
Do you see this in the making?
For many years our country has been blessed
Now someone inside is making a big mess
Why pick up guns and fight against each other
Why not love as sisters and brothers
Oh something is going wrong today
People are looking the other way
Our POW'S have been freed
Is there another war in the making like most people believe
At Wounded Knee, S.D. our brothers and sisters
Want a little more freedom
Can you see this in the making?
America, America God shared his grace on thee
Yes he shared his grace for you and me
I want you, you and you
To take a good look at our homeland
When you get back will you take a stand?
Maybe you are thinking about playing in the same band
The only thing i ask you and you to do
Love your sisters and brothers
The way God loves me and you
poem by Leon Thomas Lee
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Love Has Many Styles
'I never met a bridge' he said, 'that I didn't burn;
never seen a foot that I didn't shoot
especially if it was mine.
Never had a heart that had a home.'
'Me, ' she said 'I never had a heart I didn't betray
and give away;
never loved a man I should have.
I have carried too much water in leaky buckets;
loved men I couldn't see couldn't love back.
And now' she said, 'there's you.'
He said
'There's nary a woman that loved me that I truly deserved;
I've spent most of my love making time and whiskey-fying,
chasing skirts, raising hell, and giving hurt;
and now I need someone to help me mend my ways,
help I know I don't deserve.'
She said
'You an old boy fresh out of rehab;
my kind of man-
can't see too good-
and still needs a woman's touch'.
You're my man, ' she said.
'I like low-hanging fruit
that's been around the block or two,
that life's made eat a little humble pie.'
'You could be my woman' he said 'if you'd have me.'
'Oh I'll have you' she said 'you're my favorite kind of mistake to make.'
She meant every word she said and called them a cab
from Rusty's bar to go look for a rental place-
love being where you find it-
Love's Refugees riding around town trying to find a home,
start again,
Cowboy and
Cowgirl Style;
still determined
despite age
to Wrangle Life
yet again.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Rainy beach times
Children playing on a beach,
Nowhere to hide nowhere to seek,
Using there minds to play there games,
Running In the sand on a rainy day,
It dose not matter if the sun doesn't shine,
If the wind blows hard and the sands not dry,
There having fun so that's just fine,
Playing on a beach at two, three, and five,
With sand in there shoes and between there toes,
And wind swept hair and soggy clothes,
They feel no cold only time for fun
The moaning starts when they wet there bum,
It must look like desert to someone so young,
Who's two foot high and full of fun,
What an adventure it must be,
Playing in the sand and feeling free,
I can't remember ever being that high,
But we all must have though's of rainy beach times,
So as I stand here now alone on the beach,
Watching them play no hide and seek,
Spending this moment through children's eyes,
As they have there adventure and a rainy beach times.
Kevin Glenn
29-08-2011
poem by Kevin Glenn
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Bridge Ghazal
My love and I reside upon the belly of a bridge
with heartbeats of the sky?--the drums upon the bridge.
I've heard of songs that rise at night from pitch black oceans.
I've heard the strums of lyrics made by four hands on a bridge.
My love and I do landscapes for the gardens of the sea.
At night we sleep as seedlings at the center of its bridge.
Once I saw a Sufi breathe in seabirds, and send them out again.
I've seen people bearing blindfolds near the entrance of a bridge.
My love's old love, he says, had tried to douse him in a moat.
He grew gills to save himself and hid beneath a drawbridge.
The masters speak of magic at the middle of the rings
where Yes and No chase each other round the props of any bridge.
My love's new love, some say, makes far too much of things
as fundamental, elemental, as the structure of a bridge.
Anonymous submission.
Funny Times With Rich
Electric guitar plays the sounds,
of Rich’s guitar to the crowd.
The crowd at bar called the Paradise,
in West Palm Beach and it was nice.
Shooting photographs of Rich’s band,
I made interesting photos of Rich
while Augie the lead singer sang.
Now this was in the year 2005,
it was before Clematis really came alive.
Construction mess was just outside,
while band played on really loud.
One night Razel puppet stole the show,
by end of night Augie was red angry with a glow.
Check out Augie’s photo on www.razelpuppet.com
it is a really funny photo of Razel I have found.
Thanks Rich for some happy times,
never a dull moment I can testify.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 24,2011
www.puppetpoems.com www.razelpuppet.com
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Picture Of You
Didn't they say that I would make a mistake
Didn't they say you were going to be trouble.
People told me you were too much to take
I couldn't see it
I didn't wanna know.
I let you in and you let me down
You messed me up and you turned my life around
You left me feeling I had nowhere to go
I was alone
How was I to know that
(Bridge)
You'd be there
When I needed somebody.
You'd be there
The only one who could help me
(Chorus)
I had a picture of you in my mind
Never knew it could be so wrong.
Why'd it take me so long just to find
The friend that was there all along
Who'd believe that after all we've been through
I'd be able to put my trust in you
Goes to show you can forgive and forget
Looking back
I have no regrets 'cos
(Bridge)
(Chorus)
(Bridge)
(Chorus) - repeat to fade
song performed by by Boyzone from Where We Belong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return To Waterloo (Demo Recording / Remix)
Look at all the people around me,
Same old faces joining the queue.
For return to waterloo,
Return to waterloo.
Started off this morning as usual,
Checkin out the mail and all the bills to pay.
Maybe something specials gonna happen,
Maybe this is my lucky day.
The forecast says heavy weather,
So take your umbrella just in case.
Will I get away, will I see it through,
On the return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Somehow you feel that the worlds been passin you by.
Cant help thinkin somehow theyre living a lie.
Now Im asking questions, I never thought Id ask them before,
Like "why" or "how" or "what am I doing it for? "
Will I reach my destination,
Or will I get off along the way?
Will I reach my destination?
Will I reach my destination,
Have I stopped or am I only going slow?
Have we got a couple more stations,
Or is this as far as we all go?
The headlines cry out from the papers,
"inflation," "murder," "wars," who really wants to know?
If I return to waterloo,
Itll cost me more in 1992.
Will I get away,
Will I see it through?
And come back home to you,
On the return to waterloo.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return To Waterloo
Look at all the people around me,
Same old faces joining the queue.
For return to waterloo,
Return to waterloo.
Started off this morning as usual,
Checkin out the mail and all the bills to pay.
Maybe something specials gonna happen,
Maybe this is my lucky day.
The forecast says heavy weather,
So take your umbrella just in case.
Will I get away, will I see it through,
On the return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Return to waterloo.
Somehow you feel that the worlds been passin you by.
Cant help thinkin somehow theyre living a lie.
Now Im asking questions, I never thought Id ask them before,
Like why or how or what am I doing it for?
Will I reach my destination,
Or will I get off along the way?
Will I reach my destination?
Will I reach my destination,
Have I stopped or am I only going slow?
Have we got a couple more stations,
Or is this as far as we all go?
The headlines cry out from the papers,
Inflation, murder, wars, who really wants to know?
If I return to waterloo,
Itll cost me more in 1992.
Will I get away,
Will I see it through?
And come back home to you,
On the return to waterloo.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny B. Goode
Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods amongst the evergreens
There stood an old cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
That never ever learned to read and write so well
But he could play a guitar just like ringing a bell
Go go. Go Johnny go
Johnny B. Goode
He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
Go sit beneath the tree by the railroad track
Old engineer sitting in the shade
Strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made
The people passing by would stop and say
'Oh my but how that little country boy could play'
Go go. Go Johnny go
Johnny B. Goode
His mother told him some day you will be a man
And you will be the leader of a big old band
Many people coming from miles around
To hear you play your music till the sun goes down
Maybe someday your name will be in lights
song performed by by Judas Priest from Ram It Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Band on the roof
Out of their offices people came running,
men in dark suits and ladies in Macs.
Some of them stumbling, some of them screaming,
some of them clapping and some holding back.
Running towards the block where it came from,
high on a rooftop, as if from the Gods.
The Beatles were playing our favourite music,
uniting the town, yes even the toffs.
Boredom faded as hearts seemed to dance
down the wet pavements where young girls all pranced.
Watching the rooftop for signs of the band
all feeling the love, yes imagine that!
Imagine the moment, all out of the blue
where stress seemed to vanish
right down London's tubes.
Melodies rang out and drums hit the beat
to uplift our spirits and also our feet.
The Liverpool four, how little they knew
that they'd made us so happy, if just for a while
and if I should live to be 92,
I'll always remember the band on the roof.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I enjoy playing the band as the band. I 'be' the whole band and I'm playing the drums, I'm playing the guitar, I'm playing the saxophone. To me, the most wonderful thing about playing music is that.
quote by Chick Corea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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