Front Page


Hi, I'm Dermot Bowen the new club literary critic and here are six of my poems.


The body goes funny though not

Always for the money but the walkers

On the common with their come on

Lurking in the bushes by the

Dirty Tissues

Your looking for your dog and his name

Is Lucky

With your spare twenty quid for

Something mucky



Hunger for the Open Road

Marmite on the windscreen

Twiglets on the seat

Tomato on the gearstick

Rissotto at my feet


The Famous Family

Elvis had a brother in the Troggs

He was married to Cilla Black

His sons were Sid and Johnny

He died from a heart attack



She was in a band and played

The tambourine

I shared a flat with her

In Parsons Green

She made sure my

Underpants were clean

I had to leave

She was a drama queen


The Body

I release my feet from

The pressure of the leather

When I take off my boots they

Hum with pleasure

My belly expands pushing

At my waistband

Forcing it nearer my feet

My shirt rides up until

It's over my chest

I talk to my liver

My kidneys, my heart and the rest

They talk to me

The things on the inside want

To be free


Emotionally Driven

You drive me to distraction

It's not where I want to go

Your driving back the way we came

But driving far to slow

Everything I say is wrong

We're running out of fuel

I wish my name was Curtis

And then I would be cool

Loves a happy accident

Sometimes the closest scrape

When I first met you

I should have seen

The incident tape