Scattered

The easy words
arrive so easily
Measly
the tricky stuff, believe me

It’s the background see
council estates
cutting up rough
a wasteful education

Today the ploughman talks to me
a ring upon his finger
he talks of articulation
in the modern age of farming

He talks of the dust clouds
just before the tilling
He paints redness in the sky
and gladly fills the filling

We see no sardines of sadness
rake no artichokes of anguished memories
He says the easy words; he says them easily








a poem from the collection Some Trickier Poems - Love with Conflicts - available as a kindle download or library item by clicking here