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John Marks

Updated: 7 days ago

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Born in the north of England. Lived in London and elsewhere. Now live in Salford: 'Dirty Old Town': Ewan MacColl, Walter Greenwood 'Love on the Dole', The Smiths 'There is a light that never goes out' and my favourite, Joy Division 'Love will tear us apart' . Poetry collections: 'Sound Bites' (Envoi, 1992) and 'Lifting the Veil' (NHI, 1997), 'A Waste of time' (Amazon) and 'Shadows and dust' (Amazon, 2017). Other poems scattered around magazines and online HQ, Lines Review, The English Review, Candleabrum, Acumen, Zimmerzine, Thomas Hardy Journal. Ydrasil and The Interpreter's House etc). I worked for three decades for The Open University. In 2006 (bonfire night, it was a Sunday) I was told that I had 3 years left to live. So, welcome to the ghost writer! Fighting cancer has done me the favour of encouraging me to focus upon the here and now, but history still grips my soul. History is the texture and the mystery of every moment that has ever happened.


Drinking where the river bed is dry Charlie and I have walked our post-cancer walks Down this narrow stretch of green in the city For a full decade now. We’ve aged together But not like malt, we’ve blended into each other, Man and Dog. He recognizes the smells, me the sights, And his life is shorter than mine. That afflicts me like A sentence. Very few minutes pass Without me thinking of that. He connects me to the Pack, little knowing that the human herd is what I find Most offensive, most absurd. I try to fly past those nets Of race, nationality and religion. A new Daedalus come To cry: “my medium is the heavens, my medium is the sky.” But we walk slower and slower each day, me clearing Up his shit, him watching the dreary Manchester sky Melek Taus Fear grips her heart The heart of the prisoner As the evening approaches And her blind-fold slips. Surreptitiously She begins to shake She remembers Mount Sinjar And the wicked Salafists Mocking the life-giving sun. Now so many Ezedi women Enslaved by the Jihadis' gun: And still the west does not come. The cherry tree Those bloody dead That debt we owe Abide with me Don’t let me go. That mocking voice These clever folk Display their wit In the cutting joke. That tree that grew These shady nooks That dappled sunlight These gilded brooks. For men may come to worse than dust When love of country is breach of trust.

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

Audio entries by John Marks

A shadow behind the sun. (10/12/2017)

Glimpse (10/12/2017)

A second death (09/12/2017)

SINGULARITIES (09/12/2017)

THE YEZEDI GENOCIDE 2014 Mount Sinjar Iraq (06/12/2017)

SUTTEE (06/12/2017)

CRUSADER (06/12/2017)

Elegy (03/12/2017)


LINES (02/12/2017)

More audio from John Marks…

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sun 15th Oct 2017 11:55

I appreciate your interest and your comments. I always consider very carefully suggestions from fellow writers. And I have benefitted hugely.

But, in the case of 'The Dreamfooter', I would not now make alterations. It has been twice published and three times presented in spoken poetry 'programmes'.

I often make changes years after first 'writing'. Just not this time.

Thanks much. And, please, never hesitate to challenge anything I write. That is real 'sharing'.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 10th Jul 2017 12:43

Interesting how 'history' is essentially 'story' as opposed to 'records'. The account itself, or at least the slant of it, depends on the person/s reporting of the happening/s, personal interests and the effective result/s. Records are then hugely influenced.

Point of view must always be a cautionary background to 'history'.

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Dominic James

Mon 13th Feb 2017 13:40

Hi John

Just come across your home page and blog, I hope the collection is going well, let me re-word comment on Byzantine - I retreat rapidly before your superior knowledge!

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 14th Jun 2016 12:51

I'll make an effort to check more of your work. I like your ideas. Besides, my eyes work better now.

I live in Sale. You might like to try the WOL evening at Sale Waterside which meets next Tuesday; it's a widely varied group, and very friendly.

I'm going to be so embarrassed if you've already been out and I've not recognized your name.

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Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Thu 26th Aug 2010 22:05

Good evening John-'Fog at sea'..brilliant! your work is a 'must read' without doubt-and very much intend to do so-hope your health improves and quickly-thank you John-best regards-Stef

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 27th Apr 2010 00:31

I think your poem is really good. I esp like the last verse. To be able to write about this sort of subject in such a no-nonsense straight way makes it all the more touching. Hope your better health continues and hope to see more of your stuff on WOL.

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