Archive for July, 2008
Tiger
Inspired by a photo that accompanied an obituary of Emma Humphreys. Published in Let’s Shout About It, an anthology to raise funds for support services for survivors of sexual abuse, and on ABCTales.com. Tiger (from a photo accompanying Emma Humphreys’ obituary) Emma called you Tiger: a big name for a little cat. Her case […]
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Tags: Emma Humphreys, Emma Lee Poems, Poems, Tiger
Triggered by a poem I read in a magazine. I modestly thought I could make a more imaginative treatment of the themes it raised. I got carried away. Published in Fire magazine. Seven Traducements of a Stolen Poem (1) for Ryan Robbins Teacher don’t know our word for praise. She thinks it’s wicked. She […]
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Tags: Paul Lee Poems, Poems, Seven Traducements of a Stolen Poem
Julie
“A biography in 18 lines”, featured on a bookmark to celebrate National Poetry Day by Leicester and Leicestershire Libraries. Julie Wore kitten-heeled boots skin-tight jeans, studded belt and a leather jacket, feather-cut blonde hair with heavy kohl and mascara to age her blue eyes. Huddles on a park bench at midnight. There’s a gap […]
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Good Morning Midnight
Jean Rhys, best known for “Wide Sargasso Sea”, wrote about women in the 1920s and 1930s, this poem tries the capture the spirit of some of her novels. Originally published in Exit 21: Poems Selected by Ian McMillan. Good Morning Midnight (after Jean Rhys) This hostel room is bare. The remaining wallpaper, wallflower-like, refuses […]
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Free Champagne in St Petersburg
Sitting in the lobby of Hotel Leningrad (in 1996) waiting for a friend led to an offer of free champagne… too good to be true? Originally published in The Journal of Contemporary Anglo-Scandinavian Poetry. Also included in “Yellow Torchlight and the Blues”. Free Champagne in St Petersburg In the lobby waiting for Amanda, while […]
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After the Gig
Originally published in the Featured Poet section of Poetry Monthly. After the Gig I – The Fan He stands, charcoal grey pinstriped suit still immaculate although the white shirt cuffs are now grubby, amongst feedback and roadies; isolated in imposed idleness. Long, bony fingers push jet black hair from his mask-like face, not sure […]
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Emma Lee & Paul Lee's Poetry & Stories 
