Greenlane Poetry

All Saints 3pm
Bad Day
Bar des Sports, Charly-sur-Marne
Before and After the Watershed
Call to Witness
Carte Postale
Charlie
Clerk of Works
Dog in the Night
Easter Saturday at Festubert
Fargate
Force Nine
Forge Island
Four Chimneys
Half Empty
Homeward Bound
In Glen Howe Park
In Provence
Incident
Kilner's Bridge
Last Train
Lilac Time
Magpies
Mungy Lane
new title
new title
North Line
Nurses
Outfield
Painting By Numbers
Patriots
Per Ardua
Pioneers
Release
Rememberings
Routine Visit
Runner
September
Silent Snakes
Spring Training
Start-1
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

--chosen-work--

In Glen Howe Park

Kicking the varied leaves out of their drifted piles


Kicking the varied leaves
Thick padded leaves of oak beech
Many others- elms still struggle here

But silently
Last month a storm of long-awaited rain
Presaged long violence of hail
So that the leaves are compost
Churning this wet beech mast
Jam again a child
In dusty lanes and innocence
And Sunday shoes
Remembered voices calling in the lane
Last month a storm of long-awaited rain
Presaged long violence of hail
So that the leaves are compost
Churning this wet beech mast
am again a child
ln dusty lanes and innocence
And Sunday shoes
Remembered voices calling in the lane

On gaslit evenings

Pressing leaves in books
To know the lore of what is hazel, ash
And I reflect
That leaves are not the only thing
Which dried, remote from nature
Treasured in the dark
Will turn to dust.
Summer's leaves have drifted down the stream
And love is but a pale face
In a pale dream