Poem: ‘England’s Glory’

man person men old

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

He taps the roll up on his weathered
seat, strikes the match
towards him as an old man should, a box
of ‘England’s Glory’ and tobacco bag
thrown at me, as if they weren’t
all his worldly goods.

“No thanks, I don’t.”

He shrugs as if it’s my loss,
cups the yellow light with
the nonchalance of a friend, his hands
raw and dirty. He draws, a near
toothless mouth collapsing
like worn bellows;
he exhales, deftly aiming a spit
of spare flake to his right, while knotty
fingers wipe wet lips— the sound
of sandpaper on wood. And so
the coughing starts. There’s little else
to fill the new day.

* ‘England’s Glory’ is a brand of match

copyright Leofwine Tanner 2019

 

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Haiku: London 2

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London is a shard
Fifteen thousand steps later
a pain in my foot

copyright Leofwine Tanner 2019

 

*If you would like a personal astrology report, please contact me at: leoftanner@gmail.com for details.

Haiku: London 1

IMG_1356 - Edited

London’s love – and hate
I’m just glad to survive it:
Peace on the way home

copyright Leofwine Tanner 2019

 

*If you would like a personal astrological report, please contact me at: leoftanner@gmail.com for details.

Milly Reynolds’ new book out soon on kindle

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This is the cover of Milly’s new book, ‘Death for Art’s Sake’, soon coming out on kindle, and later on smashwords.
Eighth book in the Mike Malone series, this time Mike finds himself drawn into a macabre murder, all in the name of art…!

image © copyright Milly Reynolds 2013

Poem: A Tramp Speaks

Soon after he arrived I gave him
some food. Half way through
his ham and eggs he raised a fork,
pointing it at me as if he had
a thought:

“The universe is where you are, not
somewhere else. Belief is the key,
not truth. Truth is relative,
subjective,
so don’t look for it.

Believe
in what’s important
to you
and go all out. Then keep it
to yourself.”

© copyright David F. Barker

Milly Reynolds’ new ebook: ‘Manifesto’

See Milly Reynolds’ work here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Milly-Reynolds/e/B0056IY4OE/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d0_al3?_encoding=UTF8&refinementId=368165031&pf_rd_m=A3P5ROKL5A1OLE&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=09P41BQ8Y1KG91WBSJMJ&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=317828027&pf_rd_i=468294
available at amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

‘Manifesto’ is due out on amazon and kindle imminently!

Synopsis

Taking a break from crime fiction, Milly Reynolds’ new ebook is an imaginative and quirky take on the state of current affairs as well as the meandering course of history.
Eleanor Cross, a disaffected Tory MP, takes us with her as she rides on the waves of destiny towards the formation of a new political party which will challenge old ideas.
Written as a very loose prose poem, this book sets down the policies that some might put in place if given the chance to take over the country.

Review

Aiming where novella meets prose poem, Milly Reynolds has really pulled out the stops with this unusual new ebook. Both mysterious and funny, contemporary yet timeless, Milly’s head strong heroine, a disaffected MP, is challenged to ride the transformative waves of destiny towards a new future for herself and her country. An imaginative and quirky take on the state of current affairs and the long course of history.

Poem ‘Rear Gunner’

I come here most days
after school. Dad says it’s ok, so I
head straight away to my

friends, the chickens; I help them
dig for worms. Sometimes
a school friend drops by too

and we race up the stacked bags
of guano; they’re almost warehouse high, our
voices muffled like we’re in a cave. Later,

when it’s time to go, I sit and wait
for Dad, stare at old pictures
on the wall. A bomber

plane in camouflage, the rows of cheerful
men before it with little to smile
about, Dad said. I can

point to his friend, the rear
gunner who never gets out. I’m stuck in
there, spinning round

and round in the noise, the ground’s
approach quickening— then nothing—
until this awareness

and I am his son

© copyright David F. Barker 2012

*Notes: When I was seven or eight years old, my Dad used to work in a warehouse and I did play with the chickens, climb the bags of guano. There was an office, with a picture of an old British Blenheim bomber, with rows of RAF men lined up in front…