May 4, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Guy Bourdin



Stephen Philip Druce




Creature Thunder Race



flying serpents dash

with fire dragons – in bullet

wagons that race the clock,


voltage jets of flaming

demons flash –


devil spaceships crash

in aftershock,


pixie arrows chase

cannoned goblins –


skiing fairies cling to

the mermaid train,


forked vampires

in lightning rockets, go

neck and neck in

the bloody rain.








Radio DJs



So, let’s rip out the tongues –

the irreverent wrongs of

radio DJ’s that talk over songs,


they fade out the best bit –

a track in its prime, for

their small talk bullshit –

a sacrilegious crime,


turn off the station,

their self-exaltation

and get them off the air,


take them to the gallows

and fire at them arrows,

and leave them all dangling there.








Love At First Sight



He fell in love

with a lady he’d seen

standing in a shop window.


He didn’t drool over

the usual body parts that

many men do – he appreciated

the more understated qualities

of her female form.


She had the tastiest pair of

ankles he’d ever seen – like

unclimbed mountains so pure

she would never have allowed

an expedition of rookie climbers

with inadequate equipment to

stomp all over her tender gristle

bone – leaving their rubbish around

her feet, disrespecting her newly tanned

ankle surface, her leggy cloaks of smooth

golden flesh.


The sight of her nostrils drove him

berserk. He ripped his shirt off and chewed

the pavement until the police arrived.

He told the officer he was fine and that

it was the irresistible sight of her mystical

nasal hair and snot that had prompted such

an uncharacteristic display of unbridled passion.


He fell on his knees and thanked the lord

when he saw the aesthetic wonderment of her

bright red fingernails painted without any smudges –

“Picasso who?” he said.


He walked into the shop to declare his love

for her and realised she was a plastic window dress model.












stephen philip druce

Stephen Philip Druce

Stephen Philip Druce is a poet from Shrewsbury in the U.K. He has previous publications with The Playerist, Cake, Muse Literary Journal, Ink Sweat And Tears, The Inconsequential, The Taj Mahal Review and Spokes.

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