Category: Poems

From the Witch

Y IS FOR ‘A YEAR ON THE MANSFIELD ROAD: SPRING’

Up through the rubbish the new grass is growing.

Green hawthorn, yellow gorse and whitethorn blowing.

In the year’s slippage when we were asleep –

Corporate Solutions, Bowring, OHeap –

The field has gone, the earth’s laid bare.

New homes are ready that last year weren’t there.

Developers’ banners wave on the hill:

Larwood Park, Fairfields and Berry Mill.

New fences. Spring rain. Thinking time.

Read the road. Make the rhyme.

Hunting the hedgerows, a hawk hovers high.

Wind turbines turning in the blustering sky.

Y IS FOR ‘A YEAR ON THE MANSFIELD ROAD: WINTER’

Smell of Vicks. Smear of sleet.

Tedium of wheels. Turn up heat.

Roadworks. Standstill. A38.

Belper, Coxbench, Brackley Gate.

Black road blurring through the rain.

Red rear lights on northbound lane.

Southbound, white headlights streaming.

Wipers beat, wet road gleaming.

Southbound white, northbound red.

Thousands of cars. The road ahead.

Due caution. Speed cameras. Give way to the right.

Bantering school kids wait for the light.

The lights turn green, the lights turn red.

Mansfield, Newark, Ravenshead.

Come away mum, he was too young to die.

Wind turbines turning in the wintry sky.

Hands on the wheel. Eyes on the road.

Eddie Stobart, Knights of Old,

James Wilby Deliveries, Lynx, Great Bear.

Exhaust fumes rise in the clear air.

Tossed on the wind, the seagulls flying.

Blue light flashing, siren crying.

Fling down the flowers. He was too young to die.

Wind turbines turning in the fog-bound sky.

Y IS FOR ‘A YEAR ON THE MANSFIELD ROAD: AUTUMN’

A38 down Abbey Hill.

Ripley, Heanor, Langley Mill.

Frosty trees. The morning star.

Fly-tip sofa. Abandoned car.

Blue lights flashing, siren’s wail.

UPS, Hermes, Royal Mail.

Flowers on that lamp post. He was too young to die.

Wind turbines turning in the cloudy sky.

Rose hip, red hawthorn, bramble, pine.

Sutton in Ashfield, A619.

Too young to die but now he’s dead.

Hands on the wheel. Eyes ahead.

Merge in turn. Give way to right.

Young mums with pushchairs wait for the light.

The lights turn green, the lights turn red.

Hucknall, Newark, Ravenshead.

High above, the storm gulls fly.

Wind turbines turning in the autumn sky.

Y IS FOR ‘A YEAR ON MANSFIELD ROAD: SUMMER’

Horsley Woodhouse, Heage and Shipley

Alfreton, Somercotes and Ripley.

Pinxton cranes gleam in the sun.

Mansfield, Chesterfield, A61.

Flowers on that lamp post. Cars go by.

Wind turbines turning in the blue sky.

Soft summer verges, hot and hazy.

Red poppy, blue cornflower, oxeye daisy.

Windows open, engines roar.

Skegby, Holllinwell, B6014.

In among the teasels, the finches fly.

Wind turbines turning in the summer sky.

R IS FOR ROOKFLIGHT

Rooks sail on black rags; ragged, flapping, soaring

With broad, black-backed awkward grace.

Flakes of black ash strike the wind on edge.

Sooty tatters slice grey Boreas’ whistling rattle.

Rollicking swoop down the torn arc,

Scooping shovelfuls of grey sky.

Greasy corsairs of the air,

Death’s tarry plunderers bucaneering earthwards.

B IS FOR BUTTERMILK MOON

BUTTERMILK MOON

Over the car park she catches my eye,

Buttermilk moon in an apricot sky.

Clearing the woods as she passes me by,

Buttermilk moon in a lavender sky.

Above the house tops she rises so high,

Buttermilk moon in an indigo sky.

T IS FOR TRADITIONAL RHYME

TRADITIONAL RHYME

Girls and boys shall have their play,

And every woman have her way,

And every son shall have his say,

And every ox shall have its hay,

And every dog shall have its day,

And every June shall follow May,

And the Witch will have her Business.