British Lips – A grass roots collaboration


By John Anstie

When you have given all, then lost,
is this the colour of blame?
The love that drips from your sweet lips
and drowns someone in shame.

When young, their hue was vestal white,
their innocence on view.
As you would vanquish suitors all,
just one will conquer you.

The age of love, engorged with red,
this procreative flower
would then attract them and their charm
laid helpless in your bower.

But summer’s heat and light turned blue
in autumn’s lengthened shade
and, as the scented bloom decays,
a nation’s colours fade.

When you have given all and lost,
is this the colour of blame?
The love that drips from your sweet lips
and drowns someone in shame.


By Peter Wilkin

nymphae, philtrum, flaps, rims,
borders, procheilon, cherries, folds;
sylph, aerofoils, grooves, felloe,
protuberances, middles, prunus, creases;

peaches, labia, margins, portals,
perimeters, tips, pèrleche, pouters;
centres, entrances, minora, beauties,
pigeons, ends, inflammation, borders;

flanges, smackers, erotica, flesh,
corolla, tubercles, pudenda, mouths;
kisses, appendages, openings, pussy,
stimulators, calyces, collars, tissue;

coronation drippings, glossy seduction,
irresistible temptation, tearful ending


By Marsha Berry

Her lips
patriotic orgasms
from crossed flags
dissolving into
swirling blue and white
in a red sea
of Derrida’s differance
all meaning
out of reach
as soon as it
is touched.

British Pride

by Abigail Baker

It’s warm here in the pseudo darkness
almost uncomfortably hot.
Waking from this dreamless task list
hovering between REM sleep state
and the screaming sanity of awake.
Sensation start with creeping steps
sticky realisation crests into dawning
dreadlocks of clinging certainty.
Tentatively raising two fingers
investigating blotted white sheets
beneath the respectable blue cover.
Moist blooms of blood red redress
formed intricate crop circle patterns
damnation in stain glass proportions.
Cursed like a wet dream of Dracula
colour bleeding from dripping lips
oozing lies like the politician smiles.

Twll din y Cwin

by Shan Ellis

Our red ruined
lost in labours of the land
when colours ran and mixed
in coalition.

Blue and yellow became green-
A confused shambles of vitriolic

Symbolic blue braveheart went its own way
pulling sympathies of the old fire breather
who stood confused, waiting for
Arthur to wake the fuck up.

Somehow as the white parted,
forgot how those hardy rose petals bled
how they led

to the bleeding kiss of the poison Jack.
Bastardisation, totes amaze,
that final suck of Americanisation
on a leaderless land.

14 responses to “British Lips – A grass roots collaboration

  1. I think Peter’s poem should definitely be entered in the next Poetry Society Members competition, regardless of the subject and regardless of fact that it is already published here. #RebelJohn

    • Ha ha! It’s very tempting to do that, isn’t it? Having said that, to stand any chance of winning I would probably also need to have an intimate relationship with the judge … or at the very least be undertaking the MA in Creative Writing at the academic establishment that the judge is connected to! #evenbiggerrebelpete #nepotism #impartialmyarse #poeticsnobbery

  2. Shan, your poem is right up there with your best. Gritty, to the point (albeit with some subtle metaphor), colourful (in every way), angry (telling it how you feel it is). What poetry needs, as well as some of the tamer stuff. Speaking of which I hope you enjoyed the middle verse of “Decline”..?

  3. Pingback: Kiss « Wings Over Waters·

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