Friday, 8 June 2018


I'm not sure this first poem is complete. I suspect it hurtles too quickly towards its conclusion and would benefit with another example in the middle. Things feel better in threes, however I don't have one at the moment. So you will have to file this one under work in progress.

They used to say
you can take the boy from Widnes
but you can’t take Widnes from the boy.
I have to agree,
my voice carries Widnes,
all those long vowels pin me to a place and time.
Widnes casts a long shadow,
it settled on my father’s lungs,
caused him to fight for every breath,
until it just wasn’t worth it anymore.
I could not locate a suitable photograph of Widnes so you will have to make do with a winter shot of Hestercombe Gardens.
I appear to be writing a series of interconnected poems, or one long one, it is too early to say, about a coup. You can read the first part here, it concerned a woman being arrested at the outbreak of the coup and subsequently released.
This second section concerns her return to her flat.

It was if he had never been there
and the obligatory search,
that now follows any arrest
has left your rooms in ruin.
The hurried, half hearted destruction
of bed, clothing and books
is matched by the ransacked kitchenette.
Sunlight shafts through torn blinds,
despair is a fast filling space inside
then you remember the cell, stop yourself.
It is too early for questions
they will come later.
I am not sure where I am going with this work. I am writing it in random sections. Watch this space.
Here is Laura Marling. Her last LP is proving to be a popular one in our house

Until next time.

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