How i h8
our souless f8,
there's no sublime,
we have not time,
you are so near,
yet never here,
it is too much,
i miss your touch,
our lives complx,
we talk by txt
2001
month of may
when cows are
burning in the hay.
but woe befalls
the month of June-
election time;
who calls the tune?
SHIPS
s, she said, which was sort of true;
we skirted around one another, never touching,
but the ripples your movements caused shook me
160 symbols
sent through the ether.
to bring you closer.
numbers, letters, dirty jokes. the hi-tech haiku.
cradled in the hand for a moment.
then erased
Rugby league flat pass, high kick,
h-a-n-g-i-n-g,
crunch tackle,
dropped ball,
darting run,
try!!!
old men leap up, bellowing - we only come for the shoutin
I pluck
a flower,
place it in water
and paint it as it dies.
this is art,
but is it still life?
Can u c me
cos i can c u lk lft lk rght im in sght im 1 of da crowd dat lies b4 yr eyes bt can u tel whch face is mine an bsides all dat wld u lik wot u'd find?
Capitalist pigs
in crowded bars with friends u despise,no need 4contrivd contradictry alibis,we al no wot were feelig,
market forces,
naked capitalism,
weelr dling
Modern affair mrs j is in her car,
mr b's on the 8.23.
the msg tone of her coolest fone fills her with illicit glee. the thrill is more cos she's 44, & he is 33.
Watch dog watch me, or i'll be prowling my way round your house of a body: licking at windows, stealing through doors, trying beds out for size
Pulling power filmstar looks
& reading books/
by tv cooks/
are a list of maybes/
of how to impress the ladies/
but it's so much easier
with a Mercedes.
When i was 3
i had a friend,
who asked me,
why bananas bend,
i told him why,
but now im 4,
i am not terribly sure.
Phone text
better than sex,
I last longer than some,
but get a sore thumb
Old blood
new bloom-
moira works the loom-
nimble fingers knot reality-we all r slaves to textuality
Deepest green
shady blue,
silent depths i dive for you, immerse myself
in your silken grasp,
relinquish breath
for life at last
I'm on the train
in the rain
listening 2
the morning
mobile brain drain
What next
You have seven days left to enter Online's competition!
Text your poems to
07753 828610
April 13: Entries close, sifting begins
April 19: Judges decide final seven
April 23: Entrants to be texted a poem a day for seven days. Give each a mark out of 10 (numerals) and send it back
May 6: Results published in Online
Details: www.theguardian.com/mobilepoems