2005
with its sting waiting, the nettle crop
buttercup in an opaque, rich texture
a clump of flowers petite, burst, grow
high, a tree, maybe a birch
the slight valley, raw green, pure, new
the incision of the traffic mindless roar
the northern train, colour repugnant, grating
to Leominster, Shrewsbury, Crewe
its rear a brute yellow
hooting a major third on the climb,
I think we are in rapport, train and I
the narrow area growing with the sun, half high
here, a bird floating by into tree in peace
others play, warble, complain,
my recycled bag splits, not for the first time
I drink a can of rough cider
to welcome the beginning of the new night
waiting for the kick
Then, a two minute unwelcome hike
through air that won’t get into motion or cheer
past manicured lawn, mini plant, car
their owners thought, skill, art
their new car, neat brick
mortgage rate anxiety
One neighbour’s chimes ring in a Chinese chemistry
of unremitting wo ai nie silence. I know; for me.
the other morning, my future hunger
getting me out into open air
I went with unassuming gait to the Llwynu
going by a house with mini forest garden
the thick foliage able to absorb the brunt
of stereo noise of race car half-wit
in the expanding corner shop
a pack or two of Strongbow for evening enjoyment
but one can split in brusque retort
banging into the injured flooring
to go under the counter; I lost it, I swore
but the shop assistant calmed me
by coming out, getting low, knee bending
extracting the can in consummate way
I know for certain would please
most men, for her top rode up, lower back bare
I could not help but gaze in refined way of course
at the line of white with pink trimming
quite thrilled by that,
my amour began to retreat
where retiring folk, young Peugeot mix.
I walked past garden with tall tree
the Lansdown housing the big money
Croesonen, brick, bay window queue
One neighbour’s chimes ring in a Chinese hue
of unremitting wo ai nie silence. I know; for you.
