Poem: Whose History

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Places you’ve walked by all your life,
the things you’ve missed
and taken for granted.
Windows buried, their arches
showing above ground,
what we may call Early English,
disguised by brick and tarmac –
the layers of untold history:
a million stories lost in the retelling

copyright Francis Barker 2020

Poem: Wordspiller (for Kit Marlowe) Updated

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Photo by Ruca Souza on Pexels.com

So you are the spiller of words, almost
as far from me as
Beowulf is to you.

Wordspiller, your crosspose outstands me,
but I backthink
the falling choirs where you sadwalked

your summerwaiting mind, to
when your glories were mere
airthought,

like the Greathallow who once
shorestepped there
to see for himself

your forliving Angles (he oncebethought
angels) and their saxon King
Ethelbert redeemed to newspells that

you mindweighed as truthless.
Now I meet your clearstead gaze; for
the muse which stretchfed you

has not alleaten you yet

poem © copyright Francis Barker 2012

Haiku: To Be English

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Photo by Pixabay, http://www.pexels.com

This desperation
The English generations
We’ve known nothing else

copyright Francis Barker 2019