IN THE WHEATSHEAF

In the Wheatsheaf recently refitted

tiny ceiling lights shone down

in celebration of the empty space

we two sat in the window seats

leather bound with guinness and scotch

 

in the afternoon of the day

where histories of the hop were planted

coaches and horses passed away

we two sat and talked and spun

in truth a sharing of thoughts as one.

 

The ceiling lights became intense

at November's impending dusk

where moments piled up their extra sense

supported by a common bond

leather bound with guinness and scotch

🌷 (8)

◄ A MINER'S RETURN HOME

PARADISE LOST ►

Comments

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raypool

Sun 12th Nov 2017 15:27

Thanks for finding and liking this John. I'm so glad you got my drift, which was to suggest rather than be too up front.

also gratitude for the extra likes Col and 220 August !

Ray.

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john short

Sun 12th Nov 2017 14:27

I especially liked the second stanza. Quite evocative, and the overall tone of the poem suggests rather than spells out.

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raypool

Fri 3rd Nov 2017 21:04

David, really no need to add to this - we speak the same tongue mate. Thanks though !

Ray

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Wolfgar Miere

Thu 2nd Nov 2017 21:09

Forgive me I was a little lost for words

David.

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raypool

Thu 2nd Nov 2017 21:05

Thanks for commenting Tony, I do love Larkin's grasp of atmosphere and louche style. Great compliment .

Glad you enjoyed it David. Thanks!

Thanks Laura, David and Kevin for liking.

Ray

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Wolfgar Miere

Thu 2nd Nov 2017 09:05

Well captured stuff Ray.

David.

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Tony Hill

Thu 2nd Nov 2017 08:35

There's something Larkinesque about this one, Ray. I especially like the first two lines of the final stanza. Tony.

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