Poetry Blog by Ann Foxglove (2010)

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polar bear love song

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Oh polar bear rolling,

So tousled, so rumpled

such spikeywet furrings

so fluff and so jumpled

And growlings and strokings

And grumping and gruffing

And paddy paws loving

Bear tender and rubbing

And rolling and butting

And nuzzling caresses

Oh polar bear loving -

It always impresses!




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you called me

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You called to me

We played, just for a while

When blackthorn blossomed and the sea was soft.


The to and fro of tides can catch you out!

A high tide, dangerous as the fullest heart.

And blackthorn branches bear the sharpest thorns.


But gentleness beats passion at the end

And true love, sweet as friendship

Says - all mend!



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So, everyone is busy but for me.

Yet I feel a contentment absolute.

Two buzzards spar across the sky.

A prelude to an early mating?


A day in hand, and what to do with it?

Before company leads me back to life.

I think I’ll spend it thinking of the year.

And counting buzzards -what could be more apt?


Each span of life that passes since you left


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silver polish

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I sit and polish silver.

First, a salt spoon with a little bend.

Then, the mustard pot.

I love the mustard pot.

It has a spoon shaped like a woman.

Hallmarked 1871.

A set of fish knives with Bakelite


Very like a set my mother had.

Remember the loose and wayward handles!

Cannot remember eating fish.

The smell of Brasso takes me back


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primroses and tadpoles

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It is a time of primroses and tadpoles.

The ice of winter cracks and melts.

Life bubbles through the water of the mere

and skeletons of trees smudge into green.

It is a time of life made new.

The shadow of Januarys cloud is fading

and wrens are building in the ivy once again.

Sometimes the warmth of spring melts me like butter,

but still theres frost upon...

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Surround me - London cries

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London was never so full of ghosts.

You wore your coat, black and white check,

your own style, with your swept-by fringe.


I thought you might be humouring me

but you felt it too, no way was it a favour.

We had our A-Z,  picked up a leaflet

and we wandered. And we got a little lost. . .


It wasn’t really cold. Ducked into the Museum of London

for ...

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plump blond girl

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Plump blond girl

Sits next to me

Cute as a muffin top.


Takes out her lunch

And begins to munch

A roll, a cake, a bag of crisps.


Plugs her earphones in.

Gets her laptop on.

Gavin and Stacey.


Plump blond girl starts to laugh.

The seat next to me bounces up and down

Animated by her joy.


I sit glum

I never could laug...

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ghazal (ruby slippers)

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I tiptoe to your house in my ruby slippers

I have a date to dance in my ruby slippers


Twirling toes in holly halls take merry chances

Dervish dances in my pointy ruby slippers


Tie your bow tie, quick as it spins my darling

I’ll spin and spoon with you in my ruby slippers


I wade through frozen snow, they’re in my hand, held tight,

My own spark...

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ghazal ( Fibonacci swirl)

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She met him surrounded by dahlias in a Fibonacci swirl

A sure shock to his delicate system in a Fibonacci swirl


She was the fluorescent ghost a-haunting, she was not his cool pale girl

Carbon copy daguerreotype posing with her Fibonacci swirl


Cut her cloth to fool him, stared at mirrors, scared herself, made her hair curl

Tricked him, jilted him and then ...

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ghazal ( snow for me)

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Oh come through swirling tempests of snow for me

I’ll warm your hands, leave your gloves of snow for me.


Rivulets fashion into veins of crystal

A mathematician out of snow for me.


Glass hexagons on ivy sprigs crack and freeze

In rubix cubes made of ice and snow for me.


The blood red sun is my evening candle flame

And thunder the tympani of sn...

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I am so low.

Maybe I can join the moles

in their happy unambitious explorations?


Little mole, inglorious,

humble creature

let me join you in the earth.


We can be blots on the landscape

leaving air and light

preferring to stay

safely out of sight.


Dispel all grief

with our repetitious toil.


If I could join you,

I c...

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You are my beacon,

I’m headed your way.

A speeding comet into

your darkness.


Lie in waiting

for when love hits,

the crater will be immense.

When it knocks you off your

stable core

life may at last begin upon your planet.


The dinosaurs will have to die

but you and me

and all the birds

will learn to fly!


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the world is too small

millions and millions of men

but not one for me

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is this a fibonacci poem?

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is here.

Never one

alone, no.

Enraptured soul mates

encapsulated - twinnedinlove.



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priviledged boy

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Semaphore flagpoles

Red sails in the harbour

Formidable matrons and


A feast on the beach

With the brown china teapot

Boys with bare feet

“Come roll up your trousers!”

A parrot called Peggy

A dog called Dorita

A cloche in the garden

Oh whatever next!

The first car in the village

A chauffeur called William

The yearly reg...

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skylark place

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I miss my skylark place

tumbling down to the sea place

sandaled walk along cliff edges

wind in my face place

I miss the song of summer.


I need freckle making warmth

when muscles lax into a-melting

as limbs loll and hair is damp

and pollen flows

I long for sensual summer.


glitter crunch of sand between the toes

smell of heat on skin


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poetry fairy

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poetry fairy’s gone away

poetry fairy could not stay

more folk to meet

more tales to tell

more wishes in her

wishing well

poetry fairy’s gone away

I hope she comes again one day.


poetry fairy’s left my house

left me alone to grump and grouse

she flapped her airy fairy wings

she always was a flighty thing

she never even waved goodbye


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love visits from another planet

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Love visits from another planet

talks in a language I can’t understand

knocks me flat, throws me on my back

in seconds.

Love visits from another planet.


Love visits from another planet

with quiet voice, subtle demands

kills me right, every night then

I'm abandoned.

Love visits from another planet.


Love visits from another planet

is ...

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Dig deep and delve

Go underground

beneath life’s leaflitter.

Explore stratigraphy.


Go below earth’s annual pulling curtain

where earwigs scamper

and woodlice curl and cower.

Go down down down

‘neath roots and worms and skulls and crowns

and roman glass and buried urns of bones,

patterned crockery and unexploded bombs.


Igneous, calca...

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you cannot die

you cannot grow old.

I would defy, yet there is grey

above your temples.

but you cannot die

for how could that be?

you were born of me


how can you ever die

if I say “no!”

and that is why

when the wave came and knocked you down

I smacked you hard

and made you cry

for I

was fiercer than any wave

could ever be.


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coach E

The lights don't work in carriage E.

The Train Manager, a caring sort of girl,

explains that really we should be evacuated

but the train is crowded

and, well, we are all grown ups aren't we?

So every time the train goes through a tunnel

she stands, torch in hand,

and shines it up onto the roof.

We all feel very special in coach E.

I look throug...

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whale music


His passion is a ten foot tendril

reaching for her

like a climbing plant

reaches for the sun.

Their love echoes round oceans.

Twining, stretching out

so vulnerable,

for love.

He fondles her

she opens


and together

they fall into that heavy nothingness.

And I am left alone to think

only whales and

you and I

make lo...

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The rain comes like a friend

tapping on the window

but I don’t let her in.

She patters, batters,

wants to speak to me,

wants a gossip.

I turn over,

go to sleep.


The rain comes again

in the night

insistent, sharp and hard,


So I shut the window tight.

I don’t want to hear her news

not tonight.


The rain goes...

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salsa with orion

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We stumble through darkness

torches raking emerald hedges

three women off to salsa class.


Never been before.

Laughing and shivering

in the January night.


The church hall is warm and bright

the teacher young.

He tries to show us how to dance the salsa.


We stand in line.

It looks so easy

but I can’t do it!

I add steps that ar...

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only you

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Your hand my hand


Shadow play

on walls alive.


Feather touch


as your eyes

look into mine.



passion migration

miles diminish





desire transmission

you are here.


Separated, sliced in two.

Two rooms.

Two hands.


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My heart is an ivy covered stone

bound to earth by a strong green rope.

Lichen encrypts my name, my date,

loving mother, my identity

and I am glad

for never a mate

had ownership

of me.

And in one hundred years from now

all will be a mystery.



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My dear

You look so small

Beneath it all

The curving arc of life

The world

And all we know.

Troubled, taken in pain,

Your heart’s refrain

Is to battle hard

Against it.

But just let go.

For all we know

Life and love and everything!

That’s our eternal span.

Enjoy it while you can.

For dust is all and dust is - us

My master.


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I can walk.

In winter

before dawn.

I can walk.

Allowing me to sleep.

To sleep.

To sleep before the sun.



Nights are so very long.

But if I wake.

I wake and walk

before the dawn.

Then life.

Then life it will be over soon.



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Dusk speckles in as bats flitter along skypath ways

moths scrap against the lamp.

A primitive time, twilight,

a putting on of cardigans as chill comes in.


Dotted lights spring out across the valley

birdtwitter muffs to silence like a dusty blanket.

Beyond the window black cows disappear in misty fields.

A walk from you to me, from me to you.



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the man from rejerrah


The man from rejerrah

has eyes specked with mica

a voice warm as amber

carves bibles from jasper

eats crumpets with marmite

wears corduroy trousers

and bobbly jumpers

reads Beowulf by gaslight

cooks stew on a rayburn

grows carrots and rhubarb

makes a good crumble

walks miles to the pub

plays euchre with locals

spots Perseid showers


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coda - hebden bridge



Opposite the Shoulder of Mutton

the pedestrian zone and

moss tiled rooves of

Hebden Bridge

I make my strong Americano last.


A man who looks like Dr Kildare

leaves the coffee shop.

Two hours to kill

until my train to Leeds.


Pelargoniums in window boxes falter.

Pigeons roof huddling, couples shopping,

Grannies pramming it.


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three signs



I asked for three signs.


I found

a rock crystal in the earth

when I planted a rose.


I saw

a seal suspended

in the curtain of a wave.


A storm came

lightning woke me

thunder bruised

the sky.


I asked for three signs.



teach me how to read them.



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The Maiden’s Lament.


Turkish dignitaries.

Where are they? Why don’t they come?

I make my own bed and do my housework.

What do you mean, you’re hungry!

White wine Waffles.

Desiree needs a particularly watchful eye!

Look here, how clean she is, this young Miss Lucy.

So, do you like this alleyway?

(Maintaining an air of innocence.)


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turning circle


sitting in a turning circle

on a rusty digger bucket

bashed about pitted and beaten

mobile silent in my pocket

saw three muntjack deer who

stared and ran away.

sun appears through leaf lace golden

in the end a little sadness

sitting on the digger bucket

opposite the locked green casket

in the churned up turning circle

mobile sleeping in my pock...

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winging it!

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spinning over the horizon

white winged doves

playful, racing,

beating the gale

at its own game


rushing whooshing turbines

chuck the breeze to one another

and shout

“You’re it!”


gathered in groups

enjoying the heights of

their moorland playground


these catherine wheel

windchasers -

dance for me!





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freedom - no such thing


I can’t imagine freedom.


Everything comes with a price.


Take love.

Love comes with the biggest price of all.


“Will you die before the morning

my beloved?

For I can never sleep

knowing that there is doubt.”


“Do you still love me?

As much as I love you?

My heart is in knots of anguish,

for I can never know the answer.”


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Rock’s in profile,

forehead, nose and chin.

Sea’s a mountain,

a cascading avalanche,

white and foamy as milk

boiling in the pan.

Figures on the hill

are warriors.


A kestrel hovers as if

hanging on a string

and boulders lie

calm as elephants

upon the sand.


Oily grey gull feathers

tell a drab story

of October gales,


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crooked toe


I look at my toes

neat and straight.

Except the little one.


Bent because I broke it.

The day I learned that dad

was having an affair.


I remember, on the settee

my baby on my lap.

It was summer and

my feet were bare.

Mum and dad came round.



going to the bathroom

I stubbed my toe.

I couldn’t walk for days.



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london journey


So many London journeys have the smell of death.

So often funerals or illness take me there.

And so on Thursday, on an empty train,

a flying visit, to see your mother.


I dread the flat. So many pictures in my head.

The faded green settee on which we sat

our hands clasped, hidden between your thigh and mine.

Though in our forties, it was still a thrill


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two women on the edge

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We sit above the blueblack sea

as the sun settles.

Wrapped in winter

coats in our September.


Two women crying, laughing,

going crazy

with our pink



All the others are inside

for warmth

and music.

Our teeth chatter but we feel



Below the doomy sea

can crash

but we are here,

above it.


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plastic garden

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Brown plastic flower beds, dimpled, holed.

A mesh of flowers, steamroller flat. Colourful

in cellophane, a child’s colours.

A blunt dowel, your plastic spade.


Now, begin to plant your plastic garden.

A row of sunflowers at the back

they plunge in, thump in, whole.

Rose bushes are a little complicated


spread out like a fan.

Force the dowel ...

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There is a place called Nineveh.

The name is etched on cloudy glass

above the squat wide door.

A door for coffins and their bearers.

A place called Nineveh.


Once the old range was warm

with the peppery smell of pasties

and the sound of miners' boots rang.


It had its time for guests to stay

in this place called Nineveh.

Of breakfast bacon...

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or gently go . . . .

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My cat,  old

shrivelled, shrunken,

tufty furred.

I stroke,

a backbone sharp and knobby

as a tooth-ed comb.

Dry rattle-leafed one

with slight hips

wishbone thin,

you haunt me now,

holding my gaze.

Yours is a hunger no food

satisfies -

you pace.


tell me when it’s time

or gently go . . . .



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fear the bullet

hear the bullet

smell the bullet

see the bullet

feel the bullet

catch the bullet

own the bullet

snatch the bullet

hate the bullet

love the bullet

kiss the bullet

shove the bullet

blow the bullet

suck the bullet

know the bullet

fuck the bullet



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dull metal heavy grey bird

pinkingshear shut scream and screech

coming down out of the sky

onto my head knocking me

onto the rainsplashed paindashed pavement

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juggling peonies

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You’re the twin sister I never had

With a nun for a mother and a wizard for a dad

Your boyfriend’s called Sir Galahad

And here you are juggling peonies.


Your umbrella’s made of Chantilly lace

Cos you love the rain upon your face

With your skirt in your knickers you’re a real disgrace

And here you are juggling peonies.


Your boots are made from ca...

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nosing towards america

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Lazy waves break over the rock

round and smooth as a seal’s head.

My hand cups to pat it

expecting warmth,

expecting a flick of a tail and then



Across the bay

hummocks of blue green nets swaddle

Smeaton’s Pier where cars are gathered

out of place.

St Ives, all rooves and windows,

looking down.


A slate rock rubble far ...

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Strolling down old Back Road West

I thought “I know what I’d like best!”

I usually stick to my Ryvita

Today I fancy something sweeter

A smile upon my face did beam

“I’ll treat myself to an ice cream!”


Strolling down the sunny Quay

Nothing left to worry me

I slurped my cornet yum yum yum

Until to Smeaton’s Pier I come

Where lined up smiling was...

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Why do I keep hugging men?

I’ve only done it twice

but it’s so nice!


1)The gentle taxidermist,

quietly collecting coffee spoons.

2)The anorexic poet,

all whispers and gl-i-i-i-ding gestures.

3)The jokey local butcher - well,

I haven’t hugged him yet!

But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.


Now I’ve started hugging them

I don’t w...

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