Category: Poetry
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Songs from our Seclusion (congratulations, Keir Starmer)
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What can poetry offer our enforced Corvid-19 seclusion, this locked-in time of question, tension, upset and loss, this desert time ? In some eras and cultures, poetry has played and still plays a major role in the community’s life. In others, barely any. And only partly does that depend on how good the poets are.…
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The Severn in the Neighbourhood of North Italy
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The question is, I suppose, what makes a neighbourhood, at the present time ? North Italy is quite a distance away from the river Severn, and in lock-down. But so is Britain, I and my next door neighbour and neighbours. But now that we in Britain have “got it done” – whatever puerile hoodlum…
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Severn Shorts
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I am getting to know the River Severn. A longish poem about it is already up among the “collected works” on the right (“Of My Neighbour the Severn”) Here below are some later brief impressions, or experiences, of the Severn’s nature. The picture above was taken by Nicola Knoop. And I did…
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Poems in Memoriam in Time for Lent
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I am uploading another collection of poems here. I am also adding it to the collections listed down the right hand side of this blog’s home page. “Another” collection, but not a new one. Some of its poems were written several years ago, although every year, I check them over and might revise them. They…
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Where the Hoodlums Are
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The stanza was written and uploaded on the day the UK left the EU, January 31st, 2020. The picture is of a tower built in Victorian times in belated tribute to the great William Tyndale. It stands on the edge of the Cotswold escarpment, overlooking the Severn estuary. The lovely photograph was taken by Derek…
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Toad and the Bong
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Some of the more ardent Tory Brexiters seem very exercised that, after all, Big Ben will not be breaking into song when the UK vacates the EU and seeks alternative residence in their delinquent yet decrepit Brexit wonderland. And the lying Mr Toad, our bouncy new Prime Minister, is coming up with ingenious plans to…
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Poems for Public Display
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I never stop yearning for good poetry to reach past its traditional catchment areas – those shelves in the bookshop marked “Poetry,” the university literature department, the dedicated arts festival, the shy, solitary and possibly eccentric brain – and find a valid place for itself in the public square, the waiting room where we all…