Poetry Blog by Ann Foxglove (2012)
Tilly on eclipsed (Sun, 29 Mar 2015 03:21 am)
Tilly on Song - Me Baby ... (Sun, 29 Mar 2015 03:17 am)
I always thought that I could be a dowser.
Why did you never come
to sit at my table?
I hear of spirits met -
a soldier sitting at the bed end,
one shoe off.
I’ve never seen a ghost.
No soldier ever spoke to me.
If anyone could reach back through the dark
it would be you.
But you have never spoken.
Once, at midnight
Thursday 6th December 2012 7:59 am
There’s nothing so pretty
As shrimping net city
Where rock pools are tempting
And hermit crabs charm
In gingham and sandals
With sand between our toes
A spade and a bucket
Held in freckled arms.
The grannies are wiry -
Running down to the ripples
A chorus of children
To left and to right.
As the gulls wheel and deal
On their pasty patrol...
Sunday 2nd December 2012 12:06 pm
I went into the pub and sat
down on a wooden bench.
There was an old chap sitting there,
“Now listen to me, wench!”
“It seems to me” the old man said
“That life’s all upside down”
I asked him what he meant
and he continued with a frown
“Cos when you’re young and bright and new
you are so fawned upon!
Everyone admires you
and you can ...
Saturday 3rd November 2012 11:23 am
the season's over
everybody has gone home
the seasons over
leaving me here all alone
summer was fun
but now it's done
the season's over....
the shops stand empty
and the cafe's closed it's doors
the sandcastles have all been washed away
a pair of old flip flops are lying in the hall
waiting for another sunny day
the season's over...
Thursday 4th October 2012 9:20 am
When I was first alone
I cut off all my hair
time turned upside down
sleeping in the day
sleepless all night long
world service mornings
warmed by the rayburn
with a cat for comfort.
For weeks my fingers were so cold.
I'd touch faces -
people would recoil
at my icy icy hands.
It was my party piece...
Friday 21st September 2012 7:03 am
Nimrod coasts across the bay
heavy as a swan.
I sit on the ruined harbour wall
Lifeboat Day - St Agnes.
I drew a picture - a cartoon -
me on a rock
a huge plane flying by
sent it to you.
Clearing your home
I come across them all -
cards, drawings, letters.
The doings of the hens, the cats.
Now, even Nimr...
Saturday 8th September 2012 8:51 pm
I awoke to howling empty screams
and then I knew.
That all the children of the town
were turned to seagulls.
Soaring and wheeling over their old homes
where mothers are busy frying bacon.
They don't understand.
Where has the old school gone
where they were slow to go?
Why are cars parked up on the island
where they used to pitch their tents?...
Tuesday 4th September 2012 1:06 pm
When Wally won the wellie wangin’ contest
It’s true that a few eyebrows had been raised
Cos Wally, he was never very sporty
His athletic prowess it was never praised.
And Mrs Simms, her that worked in the chemist
Was suspicious when old Wally had paid up
For twenty bottles of that there lovely Tixxylix
And Benyline, Cornovia and Vapour Rub.
Saturday 4th August 2012 6:55 am
We move in together
your eyes are beautiful.....
They told me you'd been lonely
though they said little else.....
My friends think you are a real catch...
But sometimes you look at me
as if you are expecting the world to start..............
Thursday 5th July 2012 9:11 pm
It seems too unlikely.
Little girl, pink frock, barefoot
wandering through a glade
following a peacock.
There’s no-one with her.
Just this sapphire creature
at her side.
Putting down our sandwich lunch
worried, we approach.
“Where is your mummy?”
The peacock disappears.
“Over there” she gestures
Tells us he...
Saturday 16th June 2012 7:16 pm
The boy on the bus has eyes like fishes
not dead cod eyes but
His father is old, his mother
wears sensible shoes.
An only child
alarmed by noise, counting solar panels
obsessed by bus timetables.
“What’s that?” to everything
clutching at mother when a branch
clatters on the roof
Wednesday 13th June 2012 9:53 am
We lie between the pages of a flimsy book
Sighing in a quaver’s breath
Flit like a dream
Wafting like autumn valley smoke
As enduring as a love letter in sand
Soft as a water colour after rain
Melting to nothing nothing nothing…
Open a window let me fly away
Leave go my hand and don’t say stay
Other atoms wait to stir me in
I go with nothing n...
Sunday 10th June 2012 9:40 am
There’s a roman statue in the garden
steps sweeping down to a dewy lawn
tables, napkin-laid for tea
and I am waiting for Maxim de Winter…
We would never have stayed in this place.
Haversacked and anoraked,
peering over the wooden palings
unkempt windswept back packers
noses pressed to the sweetshop window.
Now here I am again, wondering
Sunday 6th May 2012 8:13 pm
We used to sit on this bench
waiting for the sun to set
into the sea
like a big red boiled sweet.
It changed its shape,
looked like an onion or a pear
slipping so quickly underneath
The sky stayed blue
so long -
we waited to spot a planet
appearing like the first note in a peal of bells.
The night sky was our dark symp...
Saturday 14th April 2012 7:25 pm
There’s no room in my tent for you
Only space enough for me
My feet poke out quite brave
The rest of me hidden away.
Bees buzz, grass tickles my toes
That’s all of the world I need
If my tent had a big iron lock
I’d lock it to keep you out.
I’ve got crayons and a big book
And sandwiches in a tin
And I don’t have to let you talk
And I don’t...
Sunday 8th April 2012 4:43 pm
Well he’s off to Nova Scotia in the morning
Where the whales sing and ice burgs touch the sky
He’s tired of the fusty stale old workhouse
And he needs the salty sea to spark his eye.
He remembers when he was a child of nine years old
To Newfoundland he surely found his way
The ocean was his home
Wherever he did roam
And Penzance was a lonely pla...
Tuesday 3rd April 2012 6:56 pm
When young Adam fancied a fumble
He asked Eve to make him a crumble
The serpent said yes
Then Eve made a dress
And now to our doom we all stumble.
Saturday 31st March 2012 3:54 pm
I don’t want a Labradoodle or a Borgie or a Corkie
Or a Boingle or a Bichpoo when I go out for walkies
I couldn’t stand a Borador or even a little Bogle
Or a Sprocker or a Springadoor or a cute and cuddly Rottski!
A Huskamite might bite me
And a Patterpoo would poo
Well I guess in the grand scheme of things
All god’s creatures do.
A Sheltidoodle or a Poogle...
Sunday 12th February 2012 2:32 pm
You were always touching the void
never at home, with your boys, with your woman -
always away - touching the void.
You saw beyond the brown horse on the hill.
you saw the skeleton of rocks and mines
of men and minerals –
the old heathen land
the body of the land
the carcass of it
Saturday 4th February 2012 2:52 pm
Renee Scoble's cat
used to be quite fat
once sat on the mat
sometimes chased a rat
now she's just got flat
and...that's the end of that!
Saturday 28th January 2012 5:51 pm
Daffodils on my table
stand in a coffee pot.
The pot is cream and gold and green,
so pretty, I use it as a vase.
The daffodils on my table
But they are dying.
Maybe it’s too warm.
I bought them from a roadside pail.
They stood proud, gold and green;
full of promises suppressed.
Now, fat buds are soft,
Thursday 19th January 2012 9:25 am
On this opal morning
I miss my mum.
If she was in the kitchen
everything would be alright.
We’d have plain chocolate digestives.
Dip the smiling edges till
the chocolate melted
warm as love.
In an Ealing garden apples trees
would be clad in pink and white
clothes hang on a sagging line
propped by a cloven branch.
Friday 13th January 2012 6:39 pm