Fishing for Boys
Dancing on, around or near to the ceiling, A slim, shapely lady. With her faceless silver, She is to and fro from me and she knows That I know her purpose. *** Lower, lower. Lower still, you have come, And brought such company That by their presence I am fitful, coy, Though at first wary...
Early Oscar Wilde poem sells for an awful lot of money as does Edward Lear’s Uncle Arly
A hand-written work by Oscar Wilde sold for over £60,000 yesterday at an auction at Bonhams. The poem ‘Heart’s Yearnings’ was signed Oscar O’F Wilde, a signature that Wilde stopped using in 1876. The poem can be dated to 1873-4 and includes revisions in his own hand. It is thought that this is the earliest...
Admission – a poem by Sarah Marchant
Admission A breath of crisp air and amid banana-shake aftertaste, the giggling of girls, the frenzy of road games, a thought blooms like a single drop of rain – I’ve kissed those collarbones. Author: The Flaneur Visit The Flaneur's Website - Email The Flaneur Editor-in-chief, The Flaneur. This article has been written by an independent...
Pulse – a poem by Sarah Marchant
a warm-colored thrum spreads, a web of fingertip touches and threads of lightning silver my eyelids – I have tasted the sun-beads, have been enveloped by the sweet-spell, and it reverberates. Author: The Flaneur Visit The Flaneur's Website - Email The Flaneur Editor-in-chief, The Flaneur. This article has been written by an...
Channel Orange: Album review.
Much of the hype around Frank Ocean has been about his sexuality and not necessarily his music. He published a moving letter on his Tumblr page, revealing a time when he was in love with another man, when he was 19. As a member of the hip-hop community this was an incredibly brave move, as...
The Old Bird
Raised glasses toast at the stretched saloon, away from the humanised beats and moving feet, I wonder the crowd mesmerised by the colourful bulbs, To the open road where there’s smoke, I retreat. I inhale a large breath of toxic magic, I watch young beautiful lives digest, the path that’s lead them to...
Pleasantry of Pageantry
“Friday again” My mind utters Already making my way To the bar I’ve allocated For friends and I to play And experience all things fated In its halls; loud and cluttered . Reintroduced to calmness My tongue drowned in suds Hands wish for one to caress As my heart slows its thuds . Surely, an...
True Form
I saw her again, last night, As I slept. Unlike any time before In all previous visits – She annexed my mind with incomparable beauty, Yet completely unattainable to me. This time, however, she was atrocious. Yellowed eyes, blackened teeth, scaled skin, Patches of dead, colorless hair strewn across a mangy scalp. Her...
‘Borderlines’: The Damned Barbed Wire of Freedom
The national and international news has been rather depressing of late, bringing real winter blues after all that jubilation, if not exactly real sunshine, of last summer. However, as a Facebook post ‘card’ reminded me the other day, sometimes you just have to make your own sunshine, whether summer or winter. Mind you, I prefer...
