Poetry Blog by Jonathan Humble
Tags from last 12 months
The shed was an apex all-wood
erected that furnace of a summer
when we burnt in the shade
and our feet turned to leather,
a backdrop of screaming swifts
swooping like mad dot banshees
in the forget-me-not blue.
We stood back and admired
the woody quality of its sturdiness,
overlooked the imperfections;
worth the blisters and swearing,
Wednesday 29th July 2020 11:24 am
Haunting places where secret agents hid,
I return to childhood as a stranger.
All games played for keeps;
no second chances.
Walking with shadows:
a skinned knee congregation of risk takers,
worshipping by abandoned canals,
waist high baptisms in summer filth.
Staring back in black and white,
whoops of unwashed eight year olds,
careless of cars, he...
Monday 13th July 2020 11:28 pm
Hello Humber gateway,
you old dock drab,
winking at passing commerce
with your ample warehouse acreage,
welcoming skirts hitched
up the legs of the Ouse and Trent.
Under stretched skies,
I am a salmon swimming the sixty-two,
past rotting coal fired corpses,
where orderly pylons queue the lanes,
sturdy girls whispering indiscretions;
gossip from a shabby adoles...
Tuesday 7th July 2020 9:30 am
Remote in a Cumbrian village,
removed and adrift as instructed,
I have become a modern Major Tom,
floating with the tins and toilet rolls,
bouncing off the ceiling, walls and floor.
Behind glass, I message Planet Earth,
well placed for views in virtual space,
sitting in a semi, playing spot the Herdwick,
clapping frontline health service warriors
and other admirable...
Saturday 4th July 2020 12:40 pm
Dandelion Sun (opening poem from Fledge published by Maytree Press July 31st 2020)
A child’s sun finds a dream in young eyes.
In blinks of dandelion eclipses,
refracted light reflects on retinas
holding warmth in ragged leaves
below a flower standing up and out.
Ryegrass and foxtail for company,
a golden head of petals,
swaying and slight,
is there and gone and...
Wednesday 17th June 2020 9:46 pm
I said goodbye to sanity one Thursday late in June.
I kissed it fondly on the cheek and gave it a balloon.
It soared into the clear blue sky under a gibbous moon.
I shed a melancholic tear and sang a mournful tune.
I parted from reality, after a pipe or two,
and surfed across dimensions on a wave of Irish stew,
the recipe for which was told me by an old gnu,
in transit on...
Tuesday 3rd March 2020 10:49 am