In The Poetry

Art Class

There is much that should be altered here.
The cloud in the left-hand corner
is not really necessary.
The two people who stand by the door
of the farm look far too homely.
I would transfer them to the fields
with bent and aching backs,
hoeing turnips, but not picking strawberries,
I think. Strawberries smack of decadence,
bringing marquees, or debutantes,
or even f

Art Class

There is much that should be altered here.
The cloud in the left-hand corner
is not really necessary.
The two people who stand by the door
of the farm look far too homely.
I would transfer them to the fields
with bent and aching backs,
hoeing turnips, but not picking strawberries,
I think. Strawberries smack of decadence,
bringing marquees, or debutantes,
or even f

Art Class

There is much that should be altered here.
The cloud in the left-hand corner
is not really necessary.
The two people who stand by the door
of the farm look far too homely.
I would transfer them to the fields
with bent and aching backs,
hoeing turnips, but not picking strawberries,
I think. Strawberries smack of decadence,
bringing marquees, or debutantes,
or even f

This poem is about a small girl called Irma who was flown from Kosovo to a children’s hospital in London but who died here in England. And the ‘I’ of the poem is the voice of Irma herself.

Enemies

I do not know who my enemies are.
Is he Shrap Nel. He is sharp
and he bites me. It [...]

I have lived in this house for nearly fifty years and this is a description of the room in which I write my poetry and it’s called ‘Painting of a Bedroom with Cats’.

Painting of a Bedroom with Cats

The curved cane chair has dented cushions, the cats
Catch spiders and craneflies on the wardrobe tops,
The guitar lies [...]

Art Class

There is much that should be altered here.
The cloud in the left-hand corner
is not really necessary.
The two people who stand by the door
of the farm look far too homely.
I would transfer them to the fields
with bent and aching backs,
hoeing turnips, but not picking strawberries,
I think. Strawberries smack of decadence,
bringing marquees, or debutantes,
or even f

‘The Visitors’ – this poem stems from working in a surgery – I was always opening letters from consultants and this one seemed more painful than most of them. And the consultant’s note was, ‘This patient was obviously hallucinating as I spoke to her.’

The Visitors

There was one in the room, thinking of the sherry
he would [...]