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Friday, 31 October 2025

Not fooled by design

Clothed by Calvin Klein or Lacoste

Or Ralph Lauren or Henri Lloyd


You are out of place in this town where

To dress cheaply is itself part of the attraction


Where sharply to turn a hand too quickly

In a game of cards, is altogether unexpected



Thursday, 30 October 2025

Your land is not my land, but welcome

We walk in familiar places

Our conversation races and chases

Then fades into our undiscovered dreams


My shoe laces, faced on the strike of the

Faraway clock are undone; the shine

Of flameless traces in the half light


Of midnight are over the cross unsung

We talk in particular cases of the real and

The imaginary, dazed by the liquor of love


My news of a Windrush calling, falling in line

The shadows steps, still and moving are abroad

In my country, here upon my Lincolnshire Wolds


The few truths that only they are able

To carry are held together; string on paper

Hope in the music of Liszt or Offenbach


We turn the last corner, under the

Soft sway of the evergreen willow

We walk along the unlit shingle path


Through the hinged wooden gate

And together we turn the cast metal

Key around, in our mortice security lock



Wednesday, 29 October 2025

All around the world

I'm told you've played at Glastonbury

Was that before the entanglement


Of your Dorset pale faced folk fiddler

And your sub-continent Bhangra baby


The newly beautiful, truly deep eyed singer


The geography teacher

She tells me that she is tone deaf


And all night I see her fingers dance

On the curved back of her estranged lover



Tuesday, 28 October 2025

Counterweight

The poet who seeks his own fame

Who seeks to be

Outside of the establishment


But nevertheless

He wants to be thanked by them

For his dutiful service


The poet

Here in place of everyone

Who feels at odds with the world


Even at odds

Within their own world

Or looking at their own world


The poet

Then as the socialist worker

A justified struggle


By the poor

And the under-privileged

Yet what is the result


The unencumbered

Alternative

To be even more disenfranchised


Or instead to carry the load

With dignity

To become a pillar of society


Or to become

Entirely disillusioned

Or euphoric in joy


Is there here

Half a story

Or even any story at all


In any case

Would we, or could we

Understand how to reveal it



Monday, 27 October 2025

Coventry City 3 Sheffield Wednesday 1

It's a funny old game, nine against eleven, and last year; two of our boys lost their lives on their journey home. So today, in their memory you play our signature song; Hi ho Sheffield Wednesday.

Your fifteen thousand three hundred and thirty five supporters and our four thousand one hundred and fifty four travelling fans; they raise together in a humane and emotional tribute.

No wonder then that the unshaved stubble stands (on end) to attention here again now, as I watch the raindrops fall on to my windscreen, with my eyes softly focussed, slowly and thoughtlessly towards the endless oncoming traffic.

Later. I ponder about the American guy, sat across from me in the coffee shop; he is here tonight to talk to our cohort; about all things literary and publishing; I wonder; will he mention this commentary on our beautiful game.