Jax Burgoyne Writes

  • Work
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      • Word Sounds Elegy
      • Fitzgerald, Joyce, and the Physical Side of Language
    • Reminiscence, Life Writing (and combinations)
    • Adults with Learning Difficulties >
      • Making Characters
      • Soap Opera
      • A Story from Some Poems
      • Sunflower Mobiles
    • Artists for Climate Change >
      • Pilot at The TARDIS
      • Travel Guide of the Future
    • Tutoring
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    • Biography and Reminiscence Workshops
    • Interactive Performances
    • Arts Awards
    • Audio Documentaries
    • Infant and Primary School Projects >
      • The Dr Seuss One
      • Nature Poems for the Royal Norfolk Show
      • Monsters!!!
  • Store
    • Prints and art for sale
    • Holidays in Greece >
      • Beginners' Course
      • Intermediate Course
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      • Biography & Autobiography Writing
      • Travel Writing
      • Drafting and Redrafting
      • Make a Short Film
      • Make a Mini Documentary/TV Show
      • Terms and Conditions
  • Play
    • Films and animation
    • Short Stories
    • Less Short Stories
    • Lifewriting >
      • 1yr Scratch Pad
    • Travel Writing >
      • My Thoughts
    • Poems (attempts at)
    • Collaborations (including a Radio Play)
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    • News
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  • CV
 

Poetry

This will be an infrequently updated page.  I am not a good poet.  I have written two poems which I am proud of.  I have lost one of these.  Sad times.

In the mean time here is a random, and the other one.

The Law of Constants

Oh no,
What did you do,
You two?
You with your shoe- and you with your poo-
Poo-slippers!
pOO hOO!

POoo hoo,
What did you doo?
You stood in poo -
poo-slippers!!!

Doo-doo
Yes it's true -
They're covered in poo,
poo-slippers!

Oh pOO hOO,
What did you dOO?
hehehe
pOO-slippers!

Yes, you,
You walked through,
in your pOo,
poo-slippers!

Hey-hoo
This is for you.
It’s some poo,
on my slippers!

Brands

You went and bought a Primark top.
You always wanted Christian Dior.
But you didn’t know if you’d ever afford it.
And you could get the Primark now.
And it sort of fits.

The Cure

Write about it, oh that’s a fine thing, yes!
Uncover years of laborious burial,
Dig deep furrows into carefully built
Scars.  No!  There will be no true healing:
No ending of pain, and so no revealing!
Relive the pain, is it really so simple?
Or do you hate me, to make me Prometheus?
Fine, stab me then, bitch, right to the hilt!

“Acknowledge, accept, relive” and relight.
I could walk through fire, I could try, I might.
Anything to end it, I’ll ‘talk it’ all night,
But the battle’s not won if the enemy’s alright.
“Free your mind, open up”- ­Open Pandora:
There’s no hope for me, there’s a dent in my aura.

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