There’s a girl in tears upon the cathedral steps as I walk to work the rain a mist that swallows us leaves blowing by I want to wrap my scarf around her and say
There will be better days there will be lighter times there will be happiness again
And there will be birds in the morning singing for you and me singing for you
There’s a boy in a phone box framed behind glass, he sighs as I’m passing by his call has ended the last call of that friendship I want to get him a beer and say
Don’t forget the love you have don’t forget those faces it will be bright again in time
And there will be birds in the morning singing for you and me singing for you
And the rain comes down and leaves blow by and the busses look so busy I laugh quietly to myself wondering Do birds even sing on winter mornings?
Somehow, amongst the madness of 2020, I found little slivers of time to collect and polish up another 80 of my poems. The Ship-wrecker’s Lamp contains many of my more recent poems as well a chapter dedicated entirely to poems written about 2020’s Covid lockdown.
All 80 poems were written between 2010-2020. Reflecting on romance, desire, life, lockdown, friendship and writing. The perfect stocking filler, wonky table leg leveller or double-fisting beer coaster…
Below the boards I hear the water rushing a stray dog strolls by and says hello he doesn’t stop for long, keeps moving on across Port Meadow the horses roam
I’ve got this leaving feeling breeding in me…
The sun above sheds its strength with the season trees undressing, will soon stand naked arms held up but not in questioning the bridge at Magdalen wheezing smoke
I’ve got this leaving feeling coiled up in me…
Abandoned nests descending in the gales I’m shedding possessions, lightening the load too many treasures to take with me decorating Cowley with my life’s bright litter
I’ve got this leaving feeling biting down upon me…
After everything that has to be done, is done can I return? Once everything that has to be done, is done will I return here?
Will this feeling ever leave me? Once I leave will this feeling be gone?
There is quickly surging in here a rising stream of what has been A thousand lovers now, to write about their pursuit is my only want some nights
Another night of over-driven charm another taxi ride of careless kisses home A thousand lovers, they soon add up too many names, too many faces come and go
A life is lived the wrong way around I’ve grown up to grow down…
That amiable and likeable image is soon in tatters stains all over the character and the name A thousand lovers negate it all phrases repeated too many times to be true
In this dark chamber, pretty birds linger some circle so wantonly around here A thousand lovers just for the taking I forget how to simply speak a ‘no’
I’ll become a notch on a thousand bed posts I missed the point of what I miss the most…
Can’t let them think there’s something more to this or soon enough I’ll find myself too deeply in with a thousand angry hearts to answer for A thousand lovers all of whom so badly hate me
Bleak lists form on scraps of paper in dirty bedrooms, on sweaty sheets These thousand lovers do not ignite me there’s no inspiration in these unfeeling flings
A thousand lovers; there may soon be the more they add up the less there is left of me…
Cutting to the heart of all this longing is it the vicious tongue you wag at me or the perpetual mystery hanging from your actions the contradictions of your possible state of mind
I see the hurt, I feel the pain you carry and sense your urge to be desired by men the flirt of all you do rings loudly before you and against my better judgement I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
With every scar you try to inflict or accidentally leave on my skin I drift away for a moment only then find myself battling the waves I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
I know you didn’t ask for this I know you didn’t choose me or this adventure Yet, I brought it to you anyway and you didn’t quite turn me away
And you’re cute, there’s no denying you spill out in all my favourite places and know how to smile with a catastrophic magnitude that tears the hair clean off my scalp
The bile in your belly, the bitch barely-contained I never knew how much I loved that rage your misery is contagious I feel its cells dividing in my bloodstream
I doubt I am the only one you’ve drugged this way I know you’re not planning to leave your man but as long as you keep stoking the engine of longing I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
I dream about you most nights and when I’m on the bus or train, or tube, or walking down the street or when I’m in bed with somebody else I dream it’s your body over which my hands journey
And yet you only reach out a paw for me when you know I cannot be there you only say you might want for me when you know we can’t connect
You’re playing me, humble instrument to your vanity you keep me hanging on for nothing real I know all of this so well and yet I gladly hang myself I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
Sometimes it seems; maybe you feel more for me than I realise an ambiguous choice of words and perhaps it could mean more you say the lovers kissing in the bar, are reminding you of me I say the denim shirt I wore today was reminding me of you
So, who are you anyway and why do I long like this I feel a sudden shortness of breath when I look into your eyes I feel my chest twinge when you catch me looking
There’s something in your history too I know you’ve got some good hidden in you beyond the selfish drive you choose to expose I know there’s something that I could harness
There’s something in the things you’ve seen the pleasure I know you’ve experienced your taste for the beautiful and the sublime perhaps if I could make you choose me, it would mean I’m beautiful too
You laugh at my jokes… no matter how ruthless the punchline the sharper, the more scathing the better I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
I need to catch myself before I fall much further slam my pick in the ice before the precipice
Cutting to the heart of all this longing I see such complicated shapes emerging and despite all my better instincts I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores…
Lurking in the natural world there are sentences, unspoken always waiting to be written frozen in time waiting for the great warmth of a curious heart
Haunting the edges of the living world are spirits of the unspoken connectivity in people dead or alive, the as-yet unborn caught between planes waiting for the flashlight beam of a curious heart
There is an untapped seem of precious understanding running through the foundation of all things reverberating in the soulful moments ringing just loud enough to be heard by the ears of a curious heart
Melt me shine upon me hear me with your curious heart…
As autumn’s rusty fingers begin to push their way through tired trees So, the early dimming light and spectral chill conspire to gently sweep me back in time
It’s Oxford in the autumn nineteen; with eyes opening A new life unfolding cycling through the leaves and sighing under bridges
Oxford in the autumn that brick so old around me broad streets, illogical lanes busses and puddles gang up against my dryness
Oxford in the autumn looking up into the trees as they’re burying the pavement or caught up in the railings my whole life ahead of me
It’s Oxford in the Autumn Black n’ Red notebook poking from my back pocket All the words collecting I was yet to wrangle
It’s Oxford in the autumn for a split second, that I’m returned to by the dipping light of afternoon yellow leaves upon ancient stone those deeply imprinted memories
Oxford in the autumn flowing scarves and knitted hats of the girls who passed me by to fight the cold of endless rain from the depths of gloomy rented rooms
It’s Oxford in the autumn and dust motes slowly dancing in the air above the heater Fog lit by orange street light outside my cracked window
Every autumn I’m reminded of those magical new beginnings standing tall, for the first time letting go of all my leaves my whole life ahead of me…
Come on, come on, close! Won’t these lift doors ever close? You breathe into my mouth my fingers invade your finery I was hypnotised across the table by the explicit silk of your bare shoulders Now hot air slathers at my forearms as our legs entangle their thick reef-knot Behind this crashing waterfall no one can hear us moan as you’re bitten for the thrill of it
And in this lift, we write together the oldest poem, it’s the oldest poem a poem as old as time
You don’t know this but you’ve re-lit the fuse of life in me I’ve been feeling dead for months in some subtle crushing ways I’d lost my grip upon the rip chord of that passionate parachute Now, I’m risen and roused heart beating in my lower lip as it crushes itself to yours My slight of hand restored your clasp magically unlatching All hell is breaking loose as I soar across your skin
Come on, come on, close! Doors; gift us some privacy Lost in the moment, penning together the oldest poem, it’s the oldest poem a poem as old as time
The gulls above me, wild and free my song begins to echo theirs squawks of tuneless noise as I try to make some sense or to release something
Watching the breaking waves from a distance and then up close I’ve been nowhere but up and down the stairs of this hollow and lonely year
It’s hard to remember the good I do keeping other ships at a safe distance as I patiently await the promised boat that will return me to the world and the smiling faces of my family
I fear I’m losing my peace of mind I sense the loosening pieces as my happiness erodes My song goes round and round like the light I tend
Wild and free, used to be the way I chose to live Wild and free, an impulsive sea the way I chose to love
I wait so patiently on that coming boat that will return me to the world I used to love…
The sweetest memories hang like negatives in the dark room of my mind I develop them occasionally picturing again more exciting times
Yellows and browns begin to wash across the leaves outside my window I haven’t seen you in the flesh since those shoots were new it feels so long ago
We ran through those streets as if we owned them spinning endlessly from bar to bar from joke to joke in our abandon
Our last night in the city some nameless rooftop bar we watched the buildings making love to their reflections on the water A stranger took our photo sloshing glasses tucked behind our backs arms around each other’s shoulders smiles wider than the frame
I hope there will be other times another chance and soon to lose ourselves together in conversations deep in the bowels of dimly lit bars or the roof terraces decked with lanterns on endless summer evenings down bustling cobbled alleyways a community of revellers
O, these dusty memories bring me close to tears these dusty memories chase me round the house dreaming of a time when we can crawl out of our bunkers spend another night getting lost in the city finding each other…
Do not be afraid of the flames they are the best thing I have ever known Do not try to apply your logic for it holds no currency here You’re welcome to try and hide your joy but there is no point in fighting this it will take you, if it wants to
Do not be afraid of the flames take the chance we all must take please risk the ‘getting burnt’ for there is no better way there is no better purpose in this life Lay yourself down, open your arms hold out your heart, to give
Do not be afraid of the flames there is nothing to fear The love cannot flow unless you let go Take a chance the chance you take I promise you I’ll honour Do not be afraid of the flames I will not let you burn I swear…
Why should anyone still care
why should anyone raise an eyelid
the news is old
Perhaps, eight years ago
you may have gotten
some reaction
to justify the price of ink
Still you persist in writing them
letters to old lovers
letters they may lazily reply to
letters they may not reply to
the news is old
There’s no reason now
there’s no alliance
Perhaps to reminisce
for a short while
on a long cold afternoon
but nothing more
in these new lives
Still you persist
in writing them
letters to old lovers
letters that strain not to say
letters that overtly long to say
‘let’s try again’
And every time the letterbox snaps
its steel chops around your words
old lovers don’t bat an eye
old lovers just drive to work
(and teach)
And perhaps some time
they might recline
maybe a word or two then
they may spare for you
‘take care’, ‘go somewhere’
the news is cold
And still you insist
on replying to them
letters to old lovers
letters that don’t know when they’re beat
letters that don’t know when it’s time to stop
In the dimming garden beneath the belt of Venus fingers grip a bottle a nightcap alone
Finally, I belong finally, I belong to someone how I’ve run from this for so long
Now, nothing makes me happier nothing makes me feel more sure of anything than knowing that you’re waiting
There were so many jokers in the deck the two of hearts, too many cards and still dealing, still dealing
The night air’s tinged by a new chill September’s signature autographing my bare arms but I barely feel it
Let me stay by your side through winter months and country walks through rain and sleet and fog
I used to hold nothing in my hand look at the empty shape it made wondering if there was something missing something that should have belonged only me I should have belonged to something to you
I sit down into the wicker chair look across the valley below the sky is closing in the distance darkness gloves the globe again
How could I even for a moment have doubted I held the winning hand all this time
How could I even for a second doubt that I held the winning hand all along…
