another poem reprinted from the 

Every Day Poets website

Invitation to the Dance

Our words drown in disco sound.

All week this beat had leaked

from loose earphones on rush-hour trains.

Tonight you fluoresce. In strobing light I see

parts of your self you’ve brought from home:

keepsakes from the past,

keys to the present,

charms for the future.

All piled here between us.

May I dance with you round the bag?

Stuart Larner

my new book, written under the nom-de-plume Rosy Stewart. co-authored with Rosie Larner.

Hope: Stories from a Women's Refuge

The story of three women who track down perpetrators of domestic violence. A series of their cases.

The Shop That Isn't There

‘Next to my barber’s, was there a matchbox seller’s?’

‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘That was the tripe-dresser’s.

The other side sold extreme umbrellas,

Two doors down from the laundry-presser’s.’

‘But wasn’t my short-back-and-sider’s once there,

Amongst that row that has been pulled down?’

‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘It was ladies underwear –

This barber’s of yours was in another town.

Remember where you bought the sugar cutters?

That roof’s come down, the shop’s in wrecks.

Superstore now, once a fruit and nutter’s,

Whilst ladies’ and gents’ turned to unisex.’

So I won’t worry over what’s lost and gone

When I’m not sure what was there on day one.

Stuart Larner

previously published on Every Day Poets

Courtship by an Equilibrist

Is your love life sometimes like walking a tightrope stretched out in public view?

poem published by Every day poets in 2013

Courtship by an Equilibrist

A secret street performer,

Without coin-inviting cap or sign.

You can’t see me. You don’t know yet

That I’m here, the balancer in your life.

Zephyr amongst the crowd, I launch

Soap bubbles which float unseen

To pop their good luck on you.

Did you feel that touch on your arm?

When all your traffic lights were green

And your phone calls went through – 

That was due to my juggling with

The junction boxes of your days.

Soon you’ll spot me in your thoughts:

No longer an act, I’ll be risking it all.

There’s danger in the next steps on the line.

Hold tight that line. Don’t let me fall.

Stuart Larner

Seaside Earthquake

Sick of what’s called progress, Earth opened up its shell,

And street cameras, clamps and wardens slithered into hell.

The exorbitant super-loos, the supersonic tucker,

All plastic kissed away with Earth’s tectonic pucker.

The ground feasted fully – topped with a cop car relish –

Then burped up its previous meal, seismically squeamish.

Back came old-style fish and chips, street-sellers’ stirring calls,

Sandcastles with ancient flags, well-tempered herring gulls.

You ask – what of today’s things left deep inside the earth?

They’ll fetch up in the future as tomorrow’s things of worth.

Stuart Larner

This poem was first published by Everydaypoets.com 2014