If the art galleries shut

 

If the art galleries shut
It’s not just a case of where
Would all the pictures go?

Not just a case of where
Would all of the staff go
(even though there is precious
few of them left altogether now),

or drawing classes
not being able to draw
or sketch
anywhere else.

It’s more of a case
Of it the art galleries shut
Where would you
Be encouraged
To look...

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Migration

 
The flat near Longford Park
Is still a huge mystery
And got demolished shortly
After you moved.
 
You don’t remember much
About Moss Lane East
Apart from that one winter here
When the boiler kept breaking down
Reducing the window
To floods of tears.
 
You only really remember
That first spring at Barton Road
When your football smacked
Your sister that...

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From a Midnight train (Bolton)

Dear all;

Some of may have heard this, but I had a new poem 'From a midnight train (Bolton)' performed at Bolton's annual best of bolton night at the Octegon Theatre and somewhat later, the poem has now been published here - http://ink-sweat-and-tears.blogharbor.com/blog/_archives/2012/3/3/5009421.html

 

Why not have a peek and tell me what you think.

Cheers

Andy N 

 

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Pinned back against the Wall

 

Dear all;

 

A new poem of mine about the Stephen Lawrence murder and also the Carol Anne Duffy poem on the same topic has been published here 

 

http://poetry-24.blogspot.com/2012/02/sunday-supplement.html

 

Why not let me know what you think

 

Cheers

 

Andy N 

 

 

Thanks to Cathy for her help with this one. 

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Prologue to a final solution (Scenes from a film unfinished)

The piles of garbage were real
All over the top of the ghetto
To the nearby river
Almost as a replacement
For the fresh air
That sneaked in from
The outskirts of Warsaw. 
 
The piles of garbage were smudged
All over the truth
In a sea of panic
As the Police fired into the crowd
And two pregnant women
Were trampled to death.
 
Piles and piles were stacked up
...

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Acrostic poem on Libraries

Libraries I used to think offered a very out of date
Insight into life offering nothing but dusty shelves
But as I began to grow a little older I have started to
Realise times have totally moved on and their
Approach has stepped away from the straight academia
Reflecting all the many changes in society but making
You now wish people didn't take them for granted. 

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Hands in my pockets

Don’t sit there
And look at the ground
Before telling me you love me.

Don’t close your eyes
And mutter under your breath
Until your lips start to tremble.

Don’t close your eyes
Or start picking your eyelashes.

Don’t put your hands
In your pockets
Or start fiddling with
Your damp gloves
On the radiator.

Just tell me
You love me
And stop fidd...

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