Greenlane Poetry

All Saints 3pm
Bad Day
Bar des Sports, Charly-sur-Marne
Before and After the Watershed
Call to Witness
Carte Postale
Clerk of Works
Dog in the Night
Easter Saturday at Festubert
Force Nine
Forge Island
Four Chimneys
Half Empty
Homeward Bound
In Glen Howe Park
In Provence
Kilner's Bridge
Last Train
Lilac Time
Mungy Lane
new title
new title
North Line
Painting By Numbers
Per Ardua
Routine Visit
Silent Snakes
Spring Training
Students in Crookesmoor
The Don at Swinton
The Festive Season
The Runners in the Fields
The Seasons
Treatment Days
Trips to the Seaside
Up Train
Valley Mist
Weston Park
What Love Is
Winthrop Park


Winthrop Park

We reach the sanctuary of Winthrop Park
a painful trek through traffic noise
tense nerves and beating sun
this is a place where none
might take offence

so many blossoms coloured stalks
varieties beyond a layman's grasp
here if your time had come at last
you could float tranquilly to heaven
in birdsong, summer-scented air

Let me show you the garden
Let me tell you how we made it
from nothing volunteers
a place to come for peace
I've signed you in.
We sleep a little while

across short stretch of lawn
a golden hedge
shines in half-shade
I think you see it but not sure
I try to take your hand

You can get tea for
next to nothing. Open every day
until September's end. We are
all volunteers. You can come
here for peace and quiet.
And we sleep again

Your eyelids close
I think you understand
a half-smile seems to flicker
though your head is falling
We're open every day until October. We

we know
we know