Nu Poetry 

by Pete Maguire

Highly Commended in the Bare Fiction Prize for Poetry 2015

Once, I saw, a blank hand place a blank thought upon a blank page; nu poetry,
and once I heard a tree bark, a dog arc, a shadow stray on a hobbled street; nu poetry,
I placed words under my crumpled pillow, opened my curtain in haste and
saw a t-shirt upon a chest with heaving festivals inside,
and there were pearly lips that curled on the sofa of big love,
a gush came, cool red, famous like the bus in the big city,
I sure did like to step on and off, on and off,
the inspiration bell it rang and rang and rang,
I cried upon that street, where spittle-deep did fall the feet
of rebellion breed in France, and I took the chance, to wander
upon that shore, that caressed my head with its lore,
and once upon a time there was a nu poetry hand that did hold mine,
and so I held that hand, I wandered deep, pushed a perambulator filled with sleep,
free climbing across the wrist, I drank basilica veins of night and
found, with fright, a munitions belt around the chest,
do undress, you said, nu poetry, you festival with games inside, a crest, I sip a drink to ride
in taxi cab, black with despair, down jazzman streets, did deliver there,
and there was bleeding, books with yellowed edges, thoughts and thugs,
traffic lights and pool cues, sawn off,
there were pockets of crime, there were girls broken, crying,
plying their trade, and police cars, late opening bars, there were
hospitals, swabs of disgrace, greasy handles, clouds to chase,
nu poetry, it slipped inside, it churned the stomach, stole the hide,
so seek, it said, no newspaper cover, look instead, inside your lover,
nu poetry seduction,
nu poetry will taste the truncheon leather-head, trick good lines, into bed,
nu poetry will go to war, sell-out tickets through a tenement door,
nu poetry will mock television, be subject to, much derision,
nu poetry and love collide, one strips down, the other shoots up,
new it ain’t nu, and you, you weren’t too, and single snap shots, showed how much
the raven head is as good in bed, as the well read, and other people said,
never mind sedition, stick with the tradition, the way those lines is humping,
bound to get you jumping, I said leave it, serious blood and cleave it,
thrown my lot into nu, ain’t nothing I can’t do.


Pete Maguire

Nu Poetry was Highly Commended in the Bare Fiction Prize for Poetry 2015, as chosen by Jo Bell.

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