Poem ‘Southside’

Southside

seabird shadows play
across my drawn curtains

a minimalist drama
upon which I intrude

car tyres scrunch by
like slowly tearing paper

gulls’ insistent cries describe
someone sparing food

*The poem was inspired by last winter.

**The illustration this time is a photograph I took at Bempton Cliffs, Yorkshire, England, of gannets, which has been manipulated.

Poem: ‘Winter Sun’

Winter Sun

The weaker sun burns low
over stilled marsh and scrape.

Straight-cut dykes glow like
hot metal fissures through indigo.

Heavy boots crunch on ghosted grass,
breaking threats of enveloping silence.

By a glistening gate I pause, to gaze,
the pristine kiss of rime stiffens my hand.

The lone motion is my breath, brief clouds
vanishing in vasty air, to which I am inured.

A bleeding horizon yields dwarfed
silhouettes feigning heat, random skeletal

trees and pylons merely punctuate
before a distant church stump.

A sudden snipe breaks his cover,
rasping furiously over my head,

where I catch fleet Mercury gleaming
bright through icy blue.

* Taken from poetry collection ‘Anonymous Lines’, which can be found here: http://liten.be//nr7n9

** The illustration is from a current painting by the poet/artist, showing the marshland at winter sunset near Boston in Lincolnshire, England.

Windows

we admire the window’s
fine proportions
giving out
onto bare trees
a grey sky
those pervading
stillnesses of space

and the coffee
is good and strong
good enough to take black
to sit back with
and to savour

and listen
can you hear the
crows calling?
they’re telling of
eastern winds
bringing on the winter
which arrives tomorrow

but against
this crackling fire
our comfort is fixed
by your hand in mine