Author: Barry Tebb

for Daniel Weissbort Some poems meant only for my eyes About a grief I can’t let go But I want […]

Mornings like this I awaken and wonder How I have moved so far, how I have moved so little And […]

Here is a silence I had not hoped for This side of paradise, I am an old believer In nature’s […]

Leeds this silent solemn Sunday Tempest Road is clear of all But wistful birds, parked cars And vagrant trees. The […]

It was Karl Shapiro who wrote in his ‘Defence of Ignorance’ how many poets Go mad or seem to be […]

for Wendy Oliver, who knew him I am the sick animal you dream you are caring for In the long […]

I drowse and dream in this sleeping house Fynbos the cat purring by the curtain Suriya the sun god sharing […]

for Ken Kesey and his merry pranksters in a bus called ‘Further…’ Dear and here’s where the problem begins For […]

Let us, this December night, leave the ring Of heat, the lapping flames around the fire’s heart, Move with bodies […]

Through the windows the sun’s light Turns to amber, the moon’s to jade; All night long I lie awake, wondering […]

Give me life at its most garish Friday night in the Square, pink sequins dazzle And dance on clubbers bare […]

From the French of Andrй Frйnaud France was born there and it is from there she sings Of Joan of […]

( I ) For ‘JC’ of the TLS Nightmare of metropolitan amalgam Grand Hotel and myself as a guest there […]

I You buy my freedom with your love. With every book you catalogue or stamp My imagination hacks a strand […]

How I love the working-class girls of Leeds, Their mile-wide smiles, eyes bright as beads, Their young breasts bobbing as […]

You always disrupt me; When I ring you for comfort You wing me, send my Pudding of a mind A-splatter […]

The grain of the exposed boards Speaks through the wall of the years We are back in our cottage On […]

The years become you as Oxford becomes you, As you became Oxford through the protest years; From Magdalen’s grey gargoyles […]

I Through my bedroom window The coal carts jolted over the cobbles A slow heavy rhythm full, Light and fast […]

There was a hope for poetry in the sixties And for education and society, teachers free To do as they […]