Jack Turner


Jack Turner Poems

1. The Night Bus 11/26/2008
2. Oliver 11/26/2008
3. Pig Flesh 11/26/2008
4. Revelation 11/26/2008
5. Recession, Ucd 11/26/2008
6. Real Woman 11/26/2008
7. Star Girl 11/26/2008
8. Television Lovers 11/26/2008
9. I'M Not There 11/26/2008
10. Lady In Green 11/26/2008
11. Old Boy's Movies 11/26/2008
12. Mo Chroi 12/1/2008
13. Upon The Winds That Brown Leaves Blow 12/1/2008
14. Sunday Morning,2p.M 12/1/2008
15. The Climbers 12/1/2008
16. Love Is 12/1/2008
17. Pandora's Box 12/1/2008
18. Roisin 11/26/2008
19. Saviour 12/18/2008
20. White White 11/26/2008
21. And So, Retire 11/26/2008
22. Secrets 12/1/2008
23. London Calling 12/18/2008

Comments about Jack Turner

  • Aaron Brown (11/28/2008 10:42:00 AM)

    Jack writes with fire and passion; the visceral might of the old masters is alive and pulsing within the syllables and phrases of his works.

    I stand in awe of what he produces. I wish I wrote as well as Jack.

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Best Poem of Jack Turner

London Calling

London calling
it's smokers lungs bleating
in sharp consonants, lulling vowels
a mother's voice calling to her bosom
a pillow
in the City of Dreams

The wordless fields, speechless roads
gape and swallow like a hungry fish
The empty air echoes, taunts
and jeers

at night the small stone walls turn into brick
and pavements grow from grass
and orange faces peer red-eyed
through the dark

the twigs crack underfoot
brittle fingers like the lies
that keep me

and night time calls again

Read the full of London Calling

The Night Bus

At 5 a.m., half drunk, still sober, stumbling
to a bus the yellow walls and yellow rails and yellow dirt and yellow faces of the yellow livered people
the night fades slowly to the dawn beating to the soundtrack of mumbles, groans and Andy Williams
Her face is blank, a vacant, pale canvas
mind is painted, colours, distant
the Night’s horrors play upon a stage, a lone reviewer of the melee
the painted nails, flaming shots, tequila sunrise and the kisses
the crystal balls, stubbled jaws,

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