Poems

Four of the most recent poems for your reading happiness.  Feedback welcomes, some I like some I’m not so sure about.  A break from photography!

 

This Morning
Sirens which echo between winter buildings
Calling down the street, the sound is grey-blue
The quietness moves aside like an unwieldy lorry
And slides back into the street afterwards.

Classrooms, the colour of strawberry yoghurt
Dusted with chalk, where students find dramas.
My hands smell clean, my trapped breath is warm
Soap smell of early morning commuters.

The blackboard is a night landscape of snow and mist
Like a glass plate from a Victorian camera
The unclear speckled frame of old film
A classroom reflected in the shadows and smudges.

 
Early Morning
In the cold early morning air
The town becomes an aviary
Echoing sound around the silent street
The secrets of ornithology

 
Rail Journey
Occasionally the wheels catch some uneven join
And the smooth rolling clicks, or taps like a hammer on steel
Soundtrack to our jerking and rocking.
Heading to the city, to rushed streets, to fast switching crowds.
To you waiting on the designated corner.
Pink hat, blue coat, waiting.
I navigate by woollen hats and double-breasted coats
And girls on corners, waiting.

 

Pure Gold
Families in equidistant clusters across the grass
Barefoot babies pushed in buggies
Spring in Piccadilly gardens
Warm tram journeys offloading at summery stations
And one isolated musician, ignored
But later included in all the tales, starting
“The atmosphere in Manchester today
Was pure gold.”

 

 

 

 

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