#3

Sunday league match
a swallow dives and jinks
inches above the box

Sunday league match
a swallow skims
and twists the penalty box

Sunday league pitch
inches above the box
a swallow twists and turns

always slightly ahead
the towpath heron
takes to the air again

in fragments
the local potteries
unearthed on the plot

last light
on the allotment
the glow of a fag dimp

top down
the convertible driver's
balding head

the kids'
noisy lie-in
Father's Day

equaliser
the noise
from the pub

s u b w a y - everyonecrammedsofarapart


I was just pulling together a submission for a rigid three line journal when I pulled this one out to see if it worked with a different format.

I've literally just done this, so I'm currently pondering...

(original poem said 'underground' at the beginning, but I guess 'subway', while American, is more universal and specific, right?)

the bell tolls noon
every day twelve pigeons
circle their coop

drifting
from the five-a-side
floodlit swear words

leading deeper
into the woods
just birdsong

sick leave
her desk plants
slowly dying

crushed shell
in the morning light
the snail's last movements

spring or summer
a crow lands
on a distant field




on my way to work this morning, I momentarily took my eyes off the road and suddenly became aware of the amazing Derbyshire landscape I drive through daily and the only thing moving in it. It's a gorgeously sunny day and I was honestly unaware of the month we're in, hence the first line. When I did remember that it was May, I still had to ponder the season for a few seconds.

The middle line was originally "a crow comes in to land," which, when I dictated it into the voice recognition thing on my phone, was changed to "Microcomms in Thailand."

noone home - wind chimes sway

early hours...
a dog tells the urban fox
to shut up

not recognising me...
what's-her-name's
familiar face

office move
already unpacking
her gripes