I love this site with its variety and talent. I enjoy historical sagas, nonsense rhyme and hate injustice. I have one song! at: Authored Our Little Green Book of Children's Verse, Edinburgh Fringe 2010 and Buxton Fringe 2011 and occ. published poems but mainly non-poet author. Usually to be found in a field.
APPLE POWER. Swathes of ripening grass and corn Yellow in summers’ shiny sun, Where thicket-thick thighs ache Across crow- flocked meadows. Tramping over salt-skinned ditches, Feet swollen like buds to bursting, Horizons map the long trail. Dry lips park the parched tongue, The stomach churns, Hot hunger thins the day. No apples. Lone ash and chestnut boldly dot the fields, Hedgerows dash thin the boundaries, Like road markings…. And on the distant motorway the blue signs Signal water and bridges. Cars speed past down ribbon rivers, Where cherry trees stack the central reservation, Dropping cherries through the sun roofs. Men At Work are planting orchards, Pylons producing pears. No apples. Yet. Tired feet plod into toasted town Where plastic pictures of burgers and chips Blister the windows. Pavements crack like grooved bark In nuclear sun. Glass glinting eyes squint at coppiced signs, As blighted trees along the verge. Fences and walls limp with privet along the walkways. The seared, shrivelled mouth contracts desperately Like an empty purse. No apples. At the pelican crossing the green man flashes, But the pushed button drips blackcurrant. Belisha berries direct the flow Of grapes half - trodden at kerbside From bus-stop heavy vines. The traffic lights flash Gooseberry- Orange- Apple; And on the roundabout the walker sprawls With garnered satellite dish - Of apples! Clear apple juice flows down cracked lips, Perfumes the sultry air, As teeth mash the plump white pulp For exhausted frame. Apple Power! THE DUCK- HOUSE PARLIAMENT Background: Oliver Cromwell was born in Cambridgeshire, a country farmer who became a MP and a successful military commander in the English Civil War in which the Roundheads, Parliamentarians, fought the Royalists, supporters of King Charles1st. A religious puritan who championed the common people against autocracy (at that time the Pope, established church and monarchy) he eventually created a British Republic with himself as Lord Protector and oversaw the execution of Charles 1st. He famously evicted the Rump Parliament from Westminster in 1653 stating that the place was defiled by “the members’ practice of every vice”, calling them “a pack of mercenary wretches,” and stating that “Gold is your God”. He referred to the mace as a bauble. On his death in 1658 he was buried in Westminster Abbey but when Charles 2nd was made king he was exhumed, his corpse hung and beheaded. One daughter, Elizabeth, however is still buried in Westminster Abbey. The events of the duck-house parliament of May 2009, overseeing Britain’s monetary collapse due to corporate greed, followed by the scandal of excessive expenses by MP’s( including a claim for a £1600 duck house and the practice of flipping first and second homes to maximize expenses) with the resignation of the Speaker of the House of Commons for the first time since 1695 has stirred Cromwell………. e-sites: Westminster Abbey History: the britishcivilwars.co.uk: wikipedia Cromwell; the Daily Telegraph. THE DUCK HOUSE PARLIAMENT The farmers are sowing their barley and wheat Re-ditching the fields of Cambridgeshire’s fens. Wide-shouldered strong men, rough faced and weather- eyed, Men who saddle their horses with Cromwell. He rides by the celestial Herdsman’s glow, Down country track and hawthorn white road, Like Orion’s belt London’s night lights shine Cromwell gallops to Westminster Hall. “You lily-livered duck-house on the Thames , Corrupters of the Commonwealth, You baubled moat, Gold is your God!” he cries “Man is imperfect – all history blood and regret.” Dismounting he runs across Parliament Square And forces the doors of the Abbey. Royal bones creak fitfully in their tombs As he strides to the grave of his daughter. The princes of the Tower weep together, His was not the only regicide, He prises the lid on her coffin And carries her from Westminster Abbey. He had rejoiced when exhumed from the Abbey, Hung at Tyburn, his head displayed, Reunited with the common earth- His honest Common Wealth. No more to witness greed and power He rode with her from London. The pale robed woman and black Iron Sides Returned to their country land. The locals saw them resting beneath a great church yew Waiting for the kiss of the dawn And blackbirds’ early morning call, Before fading into the soil. QUEEN MARY’S ROSE GARDEN (Regents Park) It was the heavy scent of red roses That flowed through the auditorium first- The audience quieted in anticipation, The scene was set. Up rose the curtain, the white clouds flew And summer’s sun shone like stage-light, Then they were on. Twirling, swirling masses of pink skirts Displaying limbs, with grace the ballerinas danced. The audience clapped in appreciation- And gasped When the orange, gaily- dressed flamenco dancers Emerged from the wings. They lifted their frilly dresses and shook their feet, Stomped and postured with Steady Latino beat. It was too much for the men Who leapt forward in dazzling blue. Slim straight silhouettes beating the tattoo The stepped between each girl, The Salsa was on. The audience was on its feet now, Close to the stage, cheering, arms raised Dancing betweens the rows Bravo! They entwined and parted Met and sweat, nectar dripped to the ground. Breathlessly exciting we watched Queen Mary’s rose garden Dance with passion.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Blog entries by jane wilcock
The Goodwill Wheel (24/12/2018)
Love's Insane please see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1biOUBhYm6Y (30/07/2018)
Love is Fire (01/06/2018)
A Child is not just for Christmas (03/12/2017)
Love swells my heart like buds in the Spring (17/01/2017)
Conversations in the rain (17/01/2017)
No need to get high cos I'm trippin on love (17/01/2017)
Vote Out ... with the cat (23/06/2016)
Coffe shop morning a wake (17/06/2016)
Read more entries by jane wilcock…
Audio entries by jane wilcock
Fed and Mavis On Their Travels (19/02/2011)
Kids in Buckets (10/01/2010)
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Mon 30th Jul 2018 14:59
Your samples are eclectic and evoke amazing imagery.?
Wed 20th Sep 2017 13:59
Sun 22nd Sep 2013 15:04
Brill. (I fell over a chair in a pile of chairs at a gallery once and was rebuked for it. Difficult to know where it should go back I said). One persons luggage is another persons trash!
Post above written by Jane
Juan Pablo Lynch
Tue 31st Jan 2017 00:56
Hi Jane, thanks for your comment on Earth and Sky...It's been a while since you commented on it so it has taken me a while to get here. I am really enthralled by your samples....Apple power!
I will be looking into your archived work and hope to see your future pieces as well.
Tue 28th Jun 2016 15:38
thanks for your kind comments on 'a peaceful warrior' Jane - apologies for the delay in replying - been on holiday and in catch up mode at the moment. I'm pleased you liked it
Mon 3rd Feb 2014 11:59
Thanks for your note on Leaving Home, Jane. Yes, I'm quite obsessed with the differences between physical and experiential time :)
Mon 28th Oct 2013 13:02
Hello Jane .. thanks very much for the comment, I logged in and wrote it so it has the immediate feel of a situation which others seem to have recognised .. thanks .. chris.
Thu 17th Oct 2013 23:38
Hi Jane- ta for your comment re 'Liverpool Tate'. I think you hit it on the head- nail that is. :)
Mr Dean Carroll
Thu 26th Sep 2013 05:56
Thanks for your comment on Religious Dogma Jane. As an atheist I found it something topical to write about. cheers
Tue 24th Sep 2013 00:35
Thanks for your thoughts on "Hugging Candles".
Yes, I too feel an enormous weight of history (as well as an enormous weight of timber!) when I open and close up each day. The West door of the Abbey doesn't have a lock; it's secured by an enormous wooden beam I have to lift in pace each night. Very medieval!
"Hugging" = trimming them with a knife so they fit the holders.
Sun 22nd Sep 2013 16:56
Hello Jane , Hope you are well.
Thanks for your comment
my original poem for that is nice and was written by the sea on holiday
but the version on here was written in a city
my poems on here are jumbled examples of what i do
i always have trouble with swearing in poems in this case i swear out of desperation i think
Thanks for your message and i take your thoughts on board ! thanks
Thu 19th Sep 2013 23:03
thanks for your kind comments on 'cycle of the scarecrow' Jane - I'm glad that you liked it
Katy Megan Hughes
Sun 28th Jul 2013 22:30
Thank you for your comment Jane, glad you enjoyed!
Thu 4th Jul 2013 14:55
Thanks for your comments on my wondering - when isn't there anxiety in the house ? Great to see you on the site. x
Mon 30th Apr 2012 17:42
Thank you Jane- (re On stolen sheets)I often write in an almost flippant way only to find the 'feeling' emerge at a later reading. 'dark'- as you comment upon- has opened up another facet of the piece. Tommy
Mon 30th Apr 2012 17:41
Hi Jane, text posted up on the computer voice blog entry. Win x
Mon 30th Apr 2012 10:02
Thanks for your comment on The Show, Jane, which buoyed me up no end, since I'm not actually an amateur thespian. On the other hand, I'm very close to someone who is!
Wed 18th Jan 2012 20:45
Thx for reading and commenting on my last poem Jane- appreciated.
I left comments on the poem.
Tue 10th Jan 2012 19:44
Hello Jane. Not seen you on here for a while. Noce to see you back. Thanks for your comments on 1962. I think you seem to weathered the years a bit better than me!
Sun 11th Dec 2011 21:41
Thanks for the comments on "Love and Darts"-I enjoyed your "Goodbye to Thursday Street" immensely. I still get my coal delivered by strong, black arms!
Sun 11th Dec 2011 21:18
Hi Jane, 'Luminance' so grateful for the comments and glad you enjoyed the read. Much obliged.
Sun 27th Feb 2011 22:53
Thanks for your comment on Trainspotters, Jane. I mean to check out the East Lancs some day, hopefully when I'm next up north. Greg.
Sun 20th Feb 2011 07:31
Thanks Jane for your read and comment. The curious thing about "joy" in this poem stems from two things, the first - it is an inversion that allows stark contrast to the tone and feel of the poem, and second - there is a maudlin tragic joy, a sort of fool's consolation vaguely alluded to but not emphatically espoused by the poem. I am quite pleased that you picked up on that seeming contradiction. Whether intended or not, it allows for the reader to make their own conclusion.
Sat 19th Feb 2011 21:01
Hi Jane, thanks for the comment. It was written for every day... every day we are apart :-) Win.
Sun 13th Feb 2011 10:41
Jane, you 'man' the barricade, I'll read you works of Federico Garcia Lorca, and pass you the cartridges.
Sun 13th Feb 2011 00:19
Hello you! Long time no hear...
Thank you for your comment. Hope to see you at a Bolton gig some time soon. Can't make tomorrow but hopefully next month, if I can write something. x
Sat 12th Feb 2011 22:32
Hi Jane THanks for the comment on Empty Nests. Glad you liked it. I'll have to check out some of yours. David
Fri 11th Feb 2011 03:29
Been to Bolton the last couple of months...the first wol at Butterflies and Guitar and Verse.
Anyway it made me think that your poetry was missed.
Hope all is good in the world- kids and all that too.
I hope to get to the next Bolton wol happy with my new gf Haha...Be good to hear your poetry there.
Loved the weird Lewis Carrol brilig-esque poem you wrote for your daughter and even more so the poem about about cars/environment and gambol...ala sheep.
Dave D Poet Rhumour
Mon 1st Nov 2010 20:12
Hi Jane - after my Sage & Onion and your Thyme, perhaps we need Rosemary & Parsley..... :) Best wishes, Dave
Sun 12th Sep 2010 09:58
Thanks for comment Jane,
Enjoyed reading your poems and in particular 'Duck House Parliament'.
Dave (just the other side of Winter Hill)
<Deleted User> (7790)
Sat 4th Sep 2010 09:36
I also meant to say I love the descriptions of Nature in your work, too. You can summon a whole season and terrain in a few words. Extraordinary!
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