Outernet
This is an open space for you to publish your poems and letters. Below are a collection of poems that have been sent in to me. If you want to read some of the poems I've been sent by kidz, check out this selection. There's also some tips on how to find your own rhythm here.
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By Pernille Hughes
If Granny’s from Jamaica,
And Grandad’s from Japan,
And Nanna’s from Tasmania,
And Gramps’ from Kazakhstan…
If my parents met in Mali,
and married in Timbuktu,
and if I was born in Swaziland,
but now live in Peru…
If I’m a chip off the old block,
which one...
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By Mandy
They
have
told
us
that
the Elite
are
coming,
told us that
we
many of us
will
have
to leave.
Some of us refused to
leave
and They set fire to the streets,
unbelievably.
and They
have
deliberately
created
a deprived area
that will
have
to be...
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by Rachel Fox
What do you think of your children’s divorces?
Do you close your eyes and dream about horses?
Is it tiring to always be part of a show?
Do you care when a poet to honours says ‘no’?
Do you feel like us, do you cry wet...
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by Sue Golden, London, England
your pedigree is first degree
it gets your jewels, your homes, your spouse-to-be
it sooo fulfills your destiny
but to me in reality
yer glitzy smart amorality
yer riches, yer… ‘good ole family’
bankrolls a dark crimin-ality
yer status is the epit-ome
of a...
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by Christopher Steare. Whittington, England
No animals were harmed in the making of this poem.
Great pains were taken that they might feel none.
No foxes were stopped in their tracks by a caesura,
no deer were indented or deleted by a gun.
Consider this poem a barn, each stanza a stall
roomy enough...
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by Leung Wai Tang, Taiwan
Dear husband
I have fallen in love with a poet,
He is not like you
He is not like you,
He is more like me.
You were so right,
You knew I would fall in love with him....
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by Karl Wallace, Jamaica
Fearless Rastaman,
Babylon beware
De poet is here,
Chanting yu down to de ground,
Fire fe yu
Fire fe yu
Blood and fire fe yu.
Prophet and luv warrior
Writer fighter,
Yu no see
No OBE,
Can’t fool de poet
Of prophesy,
So move Babylon
Let freedom ring....
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by Yuki Tanaka, Japan
On the clouds I live
Trying to see the poet of peace.
I listen for the reggae in his voice
And the wind in his dreadlocks;
When I hear him
I know love,
When I love him
I get high
And
When I see him I dream in my...
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by Laura Moleta, New Zealand
Cantering waves with white flowing manes charge towards me,
And though I can’t move as parts of me seep so far down into the undiscovered,
the waves can’t Reach me, for they are just not quite powerful enough,
instead they fling tiny droplets of themselves at me, their...
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by Danny O'Rawe
For years our ears were devoid
Of the simple sense.
One voice pounding
With shock and awe
And mom’s apple pie,
A thousand fields away.
Local political voices
Stammering with regret
Hide deceit, wrapped in lies
Finished with red tape bow.
Street voices billowing out of early...
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"My chosen portrait, of someone who makes me feel good" by Michelle Hubbard
BENJAMIN ZEPHANIAH
Continues to inspire
Me.
He’s a person
Who tells it like it is
And how it ought to be
He doesn’t beat around the bush
Delivering his truth to us.
He remains true to himself.
I respect that
I accept that
We are...
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by Michelle Hubbard
I lay black lace upon my skin
It expresses the mood that I'm in
NO – I'm not doing it for him
But, to remind myself - I'M ALL WOMAN.
I am full of sensuality
Bursting with creativity
Gracefully blessed emotionally
And most of all - I'M ALL WOMAN....
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by Susan Nalugwa Kiguli, (from Uganda) writing in Leeds, England
I miss our mother
That small crease between her eyebrows
And her deep knowing eyes.
I sit here wondering whether
She still smiles and lifts
Her upper lip slightly
As if to say this happiness
Is for us all no reason to
Exaggerate it.
I miss our mother...
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by Brian Abbott. Still alive in Cork, Ireland
When death ends life for me don’t pray.
And let no minister or priest
Incant his prayers above my corpse.
Grant my request in this at least,
And let me die-as I’d insist-
An unrepentant atheist.
And do not give my body up,
To those who charge a thousand...
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by Michelle Hubbard
Brendon Lawrence
was somebody’s son,
take away by a gun
(mourned by his Day and his Mum)
Brendon Lawrence
Was somebody’s brother
There’ll never be another
As his kin will now discover
Brendon Lawrence
Was part of St.Anns
Living, dreaming, and making plans
- somebody took his life...
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by Paul J. Beavis, H.M. Prison Grendon, England
There’s a storm brewing,
Dark rolling clouds blocking
the blue skies of yesterday,
trapping the heat.
Trapping the heat,
Like a sweaty pressure cooker.
Blood and minds wait simmering,
The deluge will soon be here.
The deluge will soon be here,
To free clammy chemistry
from the...
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by Diane Mulligan, proud mother, Indonesia
(Written on National Poetry Day 5th October 2000)
Across the world there are six children named after me. It amazes me, and it’s quite an honour. This poem was written by Diane Mulligan the mother of Zephaniah Mulligan, who used to live in Indonesia but has now relocated to Brighton. He’s...
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by Jean Garner
Twas me that rescued the turkey.
To keep it as a pet.
Some body should have told me an action I may regret.
It’s pecked at all my doors, pooped over my floors.
‘Twas me that rescued the turkey
I even hid the tin, they were going to cook it...
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by Khalid Khan, Karachi, Pakistan
When I was a boy
in the refugee camp
my mother was told
not to shriek,
in spite of pain,
and blood dripping
down the cot
to the muddy floor.
Because I was a boy,
they fired in the air
in jubilation
and thanked Allah
in...
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by John Heffer, Tripoli, Libya
Blue-blurred buddleias sway, and sickly-red crabwort inch
Between platform cracks.
Spring-hot sunshine: East Croydon.
Train-bound commuters groan under their breath at the tannoyed delay.
A line-side fire at Purley.
Businessmen reach for their mobile phones; Child-weary mothers sign;...
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by Ona, New Zealand
An industrial Breeze blows
A siren's Wail thorough The braches
Of fierce
Sunset lingering
Around your shoulders.
Don't be
Nervous
The
Night air descends
Quickly but
The gold
Stays....
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by Ricardo Corvalan
Today I will write little I have no choice
As later I will
Have to splash
in the warm
Water of my bath
And think of things to say
Of how I came to end up
Down the Alley
Of intensive Care
Waiting to be raped
By...
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by Jo Skelt
No ancient city state
can banish the poet
from its gates
-even a rhyming one
for he is full of too much life
to spend it
propped up in phosphorescent bars
drugged up
exploiting metaphors and
chocolate-coated revolutions
the poet lives
do not be...
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by Ishita Chaudhry
Tears on my face.
Tear of humanity, of the rain - on my face.
As pure as tomorrow's sun, as sand as tonight's darkness.
Tears on my face, they fall.
For a purpose I am yet to designate.
They fall, crashing with the intensity of a thousand ships
Sinking at...
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by Emteaz Hussain, 1991
I was born a daughter of a steel-worker
Son of a farmer from a land in the East
Full of colour, spices, warmth and smells
Pain and hunger, fear and oppression.
I was born a daughter of a steel-worker
Baby of a mother with the name of Asha
Daughter...
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by Satpal Ram, 1993
My back's to the wall, there's nowhere to run,
This seven year hell has just begun,
The fascists strike out, I fear for my life,
In self-defence I lash out with a knife.
Warrants are issues backed with no bail,
The whole of the world wants me in jail,...
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by Luke Welch
Is it right for me to feel ashamed
That I caught a social disease?
And that I'm easy to pick on?
Does that give you the right to have a go?
It's as though I'm the school pick-me-up
A tonic - even for the teachers
They shout at me
Because no-one...
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You know if you have rhythm or not, so if it don’t fit don’t force it. Forget the contract, forget your peers, and be honest. You must be able to look your writing in the face the next morning.
There are times when the writer has to realise that the spaces...
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by Anthony Arnold
Doing work is hard
Doing nothing is harder
As far as college goes
I've never slacked harder...
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