Poetry Blogs (2017, fish)

Lunch with my Grandmother

Those huge white flakes of fish

And the mashed potato dish

Have stayed in my memory

For sixty years


I remember the potato, creamy soft

Had a seasoned, peppery waft

And the choice of sauces:

Egg or parsley


It must have been a whole side of cod

I remember my grandfather like a god

Slowly stood to serve the fish

Separating the flakes


The etched glass...

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Stirred with a little spoon, the teabags swim

Like carp in golden liquid, fin to fin.

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fishsimileteatea dances

The Fish

The other night I dreamt a strange dream of a fish that I’ve been thinking about ever since
What follows below are the events.

The fish was long and silver and it lay in my arms swaddled in cloth like a child
(The fish had no name).
And though I was repulsed by it I felt deeply that it needed affection, and
Perhaps I needed the same.

So I held the fish in my arms and though it did not sp...

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the day my chip shop shut

at my chip shop there is hung a sign

on the sign there is only one line

'gone fishing - gone bankrupt'

this is the day my chip shop shut


the day my chip shop shut

the day my chip shop shut

no ifs no but 

no pay no hours or staffing cut

this is the day my chip shop shut


what a blow what a whammy

being sweaty being clammy

feeling as if kicked in the gut


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bankruptchip shopchipsclammydigestive systemfeelingfishfishinggone bankruptgone fishingkicked in the gutpizza hutsuppersweatythe day

River Prayers

from between the leaves

the shafts fall and draw

a hundred golden atria

shining through

the stained organics

of liquid glass

to the cloistral faithful

swimming beneath

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