Poetry Blog by Andy N

Tags from last 12 months

The day after yesterday and the day before

entry picture

The past is held in the un-cut clearing
all the way to the other side of the cricket ground
and past the greenhouse
which you reckoned must have had a few balls
smashing through it over the years
and the nearby college,

drawing a line between the future
and what lies beyond the other side of the gate
leaving nothing but shadows
and rattling doors
of the boarded up club house

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Abandoned Cricket Ground

Slipping into the past for a few seconds
I can hear the bowler swear under his breath
When the yorkie goes over his head in succession
Almost like the batter is trying to hit him on purpose
Instead of just been sat there alone 
watching the grass grow longer each day. 

History was in the making then of course
When the coin flew up towards the heavens
Creating a ripple then a rupture 

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Leaving Lockdown

Skating through the silence
the back of the deserted old cricket club
blends into the early morning mist
with the moon sinking over the cliff
turning the coastline orange
when the last of the seagulls disappeared
over the edge.

In the distance you can hear
the cars begin to stretch their legs again
after a prolonged break
and people returning to the train station
following white two...

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Different kind of protest

Across the limbs of the budded trees
On the edge of the deserted cricket ground
While thousands are protesting in the city centre
Nature is carrying a different protest
Stretched in a never ending line
With the wind carrying it across the coastline.

Rippling over the waves
And over the boarded up pier
Merging together in one sacred chord
In the forest at the edge of the day
Ignited in ...

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Dream State

Left alone the forest
is deserted in your dreams
and across the fields
that the horses are left to run free
every Tuesday and Thursday.

Left alone the way to the river
is untouched and unlettered
with human influence
across the rust laced gates
all the way to the water reservoir

Stealing hours in seconds
as the water rises to ocean levels
free from human hands
sitting waiting for ...

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Isolation in Spring

Those notes of silence in isolation in Spring
Carry further at night-time more than in the day
with the flowers blowing in the breeze
and the trees outside rustling in the court-yard
their beauty thickened from neglect.

Imaginary fowls that you would see in the fields
And the return of the birds once again
From their endless trawl down South
Are now closed like confessionals in churches

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Homage to Harold Budd

Your music accompanies me like a shadow
In the soundtrack of my life
Whether running under tunnels in rainstorms
Or lost on deserted fields listening to nature.

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The trees in lockdown

Blowing itself along with the breeze
Hung outside your window
You can see its apples blush like diamonds
In the early morning sunset in lockdown,

Stashing its secrets in shadows
Under rust like leaves 
Laced with rattling gates left unattended
Across deserted streets

Dangling there as an archway 
into wonderment 
Mummified in its swaying 
Feeling like our lives just out of reach.

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Life minus the subtitles

Slotted low between the flats 
just outside of your sight 
fast-forwarding a few days
and you could hear people
still not staying safe with epic chats
who clearly ain’t living together, 

You can hear the radio saying
out of your neighbour cleaning his car
Manchester is expected 
to follow Liverpool next
By refusing to send their children 
Back to School on 1st June,

Then your mate ...

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Turn the Tide

You couldn’t blame the RMT
For threatening to go out on strike 
To protect the public
After people got told to return to work
But not use to public transport
Only to then do so in London.

You couldn’t blame the unions for Education
For pleading with the government 
Not to let schools reopen
At the beginning of June 
Until a full roll-out of a national test
And trace scheme was in plac...

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Hitching a Ride (II)

And after your Prime Minister announces
A conditional plan to reopen society
You begin to wonder if things really
Will start to improve without more suffering
Or will they fall off the edge of a cliff,

Stirring your sleep pattern into stolen moments
About whether you will see your parents alive
And your brother over in Crewe, 
your sister who is running around after them
and her husband...

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Face in the crowd

Feeding only kindness
Your love fills a silent threshold
Without which I would be
Just another face in the crowd.

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Temporary Freedom

Temporary Freedom

Stepping further inside yourself each night
whether six days or six weeks in isolation
after a while it will become
more and more difficult 
to return to what you were before

Stripping away your routine
from staggering up at 6 each morning
and a hour long commute both ways
into broken sleepless nights
ballad heavy with silence

And when work calls you
expecting y...

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Hitching a Ride

Feeling further away each night

With each night of isolation

You begin to wonder if you will see

Both of your elderly parents

Before things really begin to get better,


Scratching mentally at windows

From dusk to dark in a machine loop

Mentally flicking scrawls of black ink out

Your words winding up like a scarf on your neck

On the nearby lake when it freezes each wi...

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The Flowers

Out of our sight the flowers are coming into leaf
Like something is being said by Nature 
Groaning silently in the breeze 
Watching shadows drip early that morning

Metamorphosising across rings of truth
Of our days in isolation that Spring 
Before growing old in a matter of months
Out of the restless tension in all of our words 

Moving itself across along in a silent wisdom 
Brushing ...

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Guilt in her pockets

Saying goodbye to hellos
she couldn’t look at the mainland as soon
as the airplane took off into the sky
leaving her wondering if things would change
after she got back home after visiting her mother
or would the wind brushing the plane
be like pressing a pause
to her emotions
of the size of the steps
she knew she would have to take
tucking her guilt in her pocket
just to say goodbye fo...

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Easing out of imagination

Watching the moon for a hour
after you went to sleep
The more I drunk the more I imagined it
Hung in a quiet corner on your coat rack
Shaking the darkness into a broken greyness
And your trainers into beacons

My book cases into bridges
Shaped in a crescent shape
And our laptops so often duelling in words
During the daytime mirrors
Into Shields of deep ambient music
The more I drunk as...

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After Isolation

Bleating within your imagination 
you tell me after isolation finally finishes
on an unexpected telephone call
you would stroll down to Shipley Woods
and hold the air in your hands
like a lost friend the first time you can
before perspiring under broken clouds,
saying you would quiver in the leaves
like you were stood on the last place on Earth
hallucinating in a merry fury
trying not...

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Before the world went crazy

Burying words in bins
Then the streets
Distilled in silence
At the Cricket club at the back
Minus it’s Sunday night Quiz,

Asda which shut at 5pm
Flooded in darkness
Next to the broken traffic lights
Hung out like a sacrifice
And that Thai Restaurant on Manchester Road

Arguments behind Closed doors
People chained up in imaginary ropes
Crouched by their windows
Breathing in their ow...

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