Poetry Blogs (Marsden)
Who would have guessed that a small tree
could be so vicious. All day you had kicked
the new football back and forth against
the gable of the red brick terrace and
not even the promise of ice cream could
coax you away, until the Blackthorn spoilt the game.
That’s when you ran back, holding the thing
with your thumb pressed white against its skin.
You begged me for some...
Wednesday 5th July 2017 6:59 pm
the photographs of road signs charged by light,
footprints on the dashboard
or blurred trees stooped like men picking leaves.
Or the back of my head, the garden shed
or all the landscapes from summer days when
we turned the camera on ourselves
and photographed nothing but wind.
We send thanks
and message school friends, relatives
and people w...
Friday 30th September 2016 7:19 pm