Black-out Browning No3

Sadly my copy of Robert’s poems has disintegrated which gives rise to a rather fun project for this year …..

 

dVerse anthology

Delighted to have two poems in here which feature quality work from poets in Europe, America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Africa.

 

Old Town Loses Its Song

Tonight at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/     Oloriel is hosting and wants us to write suburban poetry. Of course the suburbs can spawn so many different emotions all over the world!

At Rackenford Meadows
it’s the town’s last stand.
Country tracks are diverted
and the rest of the land
is sinking under a weight
of concrete and bricks.
A pox on the landscape,
a fox moving out
as monotonous houses
thrust through the earth.
Fields ripped up,
lawns to be laid down,
spine road to split.
An avenue here,
a close over there
a drive sweeping round
all garishly lit
and fences
and fences
and fences
and fences
hemming in the dilemmas
of homes, a hundred
small islands living alone.
Battles were lost up Canal
Hill, along Bolham Road
and now the old town
is trapped in suburbia.
Only the river escapes
drumming over the weir
taking with it the song
of a town that lived here.

Panic Of Paths

Tonight at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ Mish has introduced us to Canadian artist Ally Saunders and asked us to select one of her paintings as a base for a poem.

A panic of paths
spider through woods.
There’s no strategy
they just flee
in all directions.
Flowing blood red,
hunting for a way out.
They start filling the sky.
An anxious sun
watches them come
as Earth melts
into the universe.

Many Paths by Ally Saunders.
You can catch her work here http://allyart.ca/

 

Taking a break

at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ we are meeting the challenge of writing a 44 word poem to include the word ‘lull’

Sky is beaten to the colour of slate,
brooding but briefly spent.

And for now the wind is nothing
more than a leaf-whisperer.

In this quiet the river clings to its bed,
trembling woods are still full of panic.

This lull will not last.

School

at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ we are writing about school days. As my old reports testify, they were not the best days of my life!

Behind the door
‘This will not do’
are not memorable years
‘Could do better’
Frustration pulsating on both
sides of the desk.
‘Disappointing set of results’
No strands threading through
to the me
in the now.
Nothing formed
on a classroom potter’s wheel.
‘Quickly loses interest’
All those opinions are locked away
in an attic. Dust gatherers.
Under examination it is clear
we all missed the mark.