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James Lancaster

Updated: Wed, 22 Sep 2010 06:18 pm

james.lancasteris@googlemail.com

www.jameslancaster.wordpress.com

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Biography

I like to write poems, blogs and short stories. I like short poems. I think there has to be good reason for a poem to be long.

Samples

Observation We used to dream of bigger things. Remember the space-age look-out booth we hoisted up that needle tower, to see what starlings praised in flight? The view up there was cycloramic across the Downs, across the Channel along the coast to Littlehampton. The future, though, remained unsighted Parcelled up and sold on trust; so when it came it shook the world, disturbed the stones beneath our feet and brought us down to slighted earth. Now the numbers seem so sad. One-hundred and fifty metres high Sixty tonnes of glass and steel - trapped In our imagination. Like an interrupted dream. Come then and mock the folly of plans. Roll up and jeer at the screwball gall, the brazen, pie-in-the-sky nerve of it all. That panoramic pod. If that's what helps. Tensions We walked down to the water's edge where you took off your dress and threw me the blue towel, 'Hold that' you said. The sea was black and warm and the sky was grey and warm and both the sea and the sky were flat. You dived in, breaking the water's viscous skin. I stood on the wet sand holding your towel watching you, striking out for something elemental. Buying time Groping for change at the meter, I find with a frisson of fear, the right amount - to the penny - amongst the fluff; detect, in the clever clunk of coins, something final. You, outside the surgeon's room, prone in a paper-thin gown; me, wondering where I stashed my ticket, thinking about buying time.... The guilt of leisure To make the most of brief repose I seek out paths of ancient lows, (which cut through dyke and waxy wood) And bluff a way through blue meadows... But empty downs where dew ponds sit, conjure up an old flint pit, whose lines of harsh endeavour sting My idle thoughts to toil and grit. And as I turn for hidden ghyll I hear a skylark's strident trill instructing me to move along And question how, with time to fill, I find myself with hours to spend on aimless walks with no clear end? So, dogged with guilt I lose the will, And head back home to make amends.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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Comments

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Elaine Booth

Tue 5th Oct 2010 22:09

Thanks for taking the time with my latest blog. In your re-working I can hear your voice!

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Isobel

Wed 29th Sep 2010 17:25

Thanks for your comment on my Praying poem James - you were right in your take on it. I have left a further comment on it to explain things. x

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Isobel

Wed 22nd Sep 2010 22:10

You are an excellent poet James - you express yourself so well. I hope that WOL works for you. x

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James Lancaster

Wed 22nd Sep 2010 21:28

Thanks for the welcome both! Ann, I've had a browse and really like your stuff! The bat poem's very neat indeed - great imagery. Anyway...cheers.

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Ann Foxglove

Wed 22nd Sep 2010 19:35

Welcome to WOL James. I really like your poems.

<Deleted User> (7075)

Wed 22nd Sep 2010 14:05

Hi James. Welcome aboard. To a large extent I also agree with you philosophy in your biog section. Hope you enjoy the site. Winston

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