Here we publish assorted poetry from whoever wishes to see it up here (Just go to the "contact me" link)! Including myself (Blowing my own trumpet: I was a runner up for this year's National Young Poet Awards...rock on) and anything else that is contributed...it's a nice arty section to add an air of calm to the place...

9am
It?am, Monday 24th January,
Battle stations.
An alarm shrieks, a dog howls,
Hands fumble to smother the incessant beeping.
A door slams open, feet patter across the carpet,
Scurry into the chamber and seal it off,
?ck??ys the lock.
It?hat eternal struggle to get there first,
Tempers fray as they cue like prisoners,
Legs twitching in an agonising wait.
Brows furrow as the clock hand ticks by,
Painfully slow,
Tick,
Tick.
Sweat beads form at the release of taps,
Rushing, gushing,
Drip,
Drip.
It?ar.
(Fiona Carr 2002)

Raw
Acknowledge me once-does it make you feel better?
It doesn?ake you a good person.
I?ather be alone than here with you,
At least in my own world I know where I am,
Easy to forget when there?o one around, except you.
That grin on your face just makes things worse,
A distorted crescent, sinister and wild.
My skin crawls like buzzing flies.
We?tried to be civil and you?made you point,
Bet that felt good to vent your spleen,
I never let mine, just bled for you,
Bled a stream of crystal tears,
Every one as precious as the next.
But you never knew this,
You never cared.
Don?ven bother anymore,
Just let me slip away??t;br>(Fiona Carr 2002)


The Artist-An Ode to Andy Warhol
Just how much work do you put into your ???lt;br>Your praised and postured wash of colours?
Just finish it off, post it on a board,
Come back the next day,
Torn down, thrown away,
I don?now where it went, who cares?
Everything is replaceable
It all happens too soon for them,
And you?just fishing for compliments,
You?also very shallow,
Also very shallow
We?not getting anything from you.
(Fiona Carr 2002)

Never Been
I?never been to the M25
Never wandered down a bypass
On a cool winter?ight
Never heard the traffic buzzing by
As the horns scream at my ignorance
Never walked barefoot
Across icy tarmac
Felt the cool cats eyes
Underneath my blistered skin
Never stopped on an embankment
Had a picnic by the motorway
Why don?e crack open a bottle of wine
And drink in the petrol fumes
I?never watched the sunset
Across the illuminated roadworks
As the cars sigh goodnight
Shining traffic light stars
(Fiona Carr 2002)

A Reading Lamp on a Cluttered Desk
I am I, I am me,
I stand alone, enveloped in darkness
Watch me shiver,
And let it swallow me up

I endure for you,
Yet you control me
Push me aside,
Surround me with your clutter

Empty packets, scattered and forgotten,
Scorched underneath my 5 Watt glow
The smell of the plastic rises and chokes me,
As it melts slowly, baking in heat

Please, look at me, take them away,
I am weeping on the inside
The fumes grasp hold of my wires,
Wrap themselves around my filaments

I can?ee to cry out,
Books piled high out of my view
I could have been so good for you,
But now I am tarnished, gathering dust

All I can hear is the buzzing of flies,
Around the plates of festering food
Won?ou move them for me?
Just leave me swamped in crawling black flesh

I hear you coming, possible freedom,
My isolated hell of rubble and clutter
The hand hovers above me, brushes my hot bulb,
The scream is piercing as my heat penetrates you

I?been left here too long, waiting for purpose,
Turn me off and extinguish my light, my heat
But you cast me to the ground in anger,
Clutterless, carpet, fire.
(Fiona Carr 2002)