Fern Hill

At 1:49 you will see the esteemed Mr Jakes reading a line from Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas for the 100 year anniversary. Diolch/Thanks for watching, it was an honour to take part.

The Drink and I

5 Second Poem for Poet's Day

Today is National Poetry Day so here is a quick recital of a piece that came straight from the top of my head for the camera. No notes, no thought, simply press RECORD and this emerged. It sounds like I say "Tides" rwice but the second time is TIMES. Just something different I decided to do rather than rehash something written months ago. Makes poetry more interesting, more alive I feel.

Enjoy!

Steven xx

Reading from BratNews

I am currently working on a new play, "BratNews", which has been inspired by the internet and its many forums. Its still in its very early stages but in attempt to beat to death, I decided to put this up in case, God forbid (and I hope im not jinxing myself here) something happened to me before it was finished. I would hate to have this disappear without trace. And even if it is only the title and bare bones idea, that 'makes it', then that is better than nothing.

Diolch/ thanks

Steven

At the Farm Window

The horizon sulks with a gallows on its back
hanging dead wood and sinking stars
as curried clouds clamour for the night.
In my left eye, daffodils and newborn rabbits
cower from deadly weeds and satanic looking wolves
frozen in my glassy right.
Nature, as far away as television had intended,
halts granite ravens with mossy riffs
for butter lilies to rise from dew,
the morning glass.

A sightless explosion,
mother seeds in union
shattering the window with a mortal blast,
kneel deep in those wild, clove prayers...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Throat for Porno

C*cks in silver sheaths
guiding lights to thorny aisle
as clothes look on
(their legs broken by moral foxes)
crumpled from too many triple censors and litter puppy halos.
Banish XXX fiends to hell,
send them to daytime television
and let Poundland scriptures
wrench their groins from penny sands.

Oh my God this boy watches porno!
Wrench his slow worm guts
and toss them to hell,
lest chance befalls the devil's dick
to muddy virgin coves.
Run! Run! Flee from flesh!
Strip it from next door thighs of virtue,
shield natural modesty from obvious monsters...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Politics, Thanks

There is no need
for later thanks
or awards for pints poured
after ages flow.
No need for small dicks
in shallow holes,
tongues tossed by eager crowds,
or postponed portraits
that lead to masturbation.
The wolves will come when all is done
when the wait is over,
and words ignored by drainpipe friends
soon become gospel through green spires...

©Steven Francis poems 2013