LEFTOVERS

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1. Bottle 'O&#039 I ain’t the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job; I drives me bottle cart around the town; A bloke what keeps ‘is eyes about can always make a bob I couldn’t bear to graft for every brown. There’s lots of handy things about in everybody’s yard, There’s cocks and hens a-runnin’ to […]...
2. Understanding lemons lemons don’t let you admire yourself too much They stick from their tree like awkward thoughts Demanding a truth be told even if the tongue Would prefer a far more sickly explanation Lemons are perfect though for the need to jump Straight out of bed on the eagerest of mornings Into the task that must […]...
3. THE DREAMER, THE SLEEP L’orage qui s’attarde, le lit dйfait Yves Bonnefoy Here am I, lying lacklustre in an unmade bed A Sunday in December while all Leeds lies in around me In the silent streets, frost on roof slates, gas fires And kettles whistle as I read Bonnefoy on the eternal. Too tired to fantasize, unsummoned images float […]...
4. Three Oranges first time my father overheard me listening to This bit of music he asked me, “what is it?” “it’s called Love For Three Oranges,” I informed him. “boy,” he said, “that’s getting it Cheap.” He meant sex. Listening to it I always imagined three oranges Sitting there, You know how orange they can Get, So […]...
5. An Apology for the Bottle Volcanic Sometimes I dip my pen and find the bottle full of fire, The salamanders flying forth I cannot but admire. It’s Etna, or Vesuvius, if those big things were small, And then ’tis but itself again, and does not smoke at all. And so my blood grows cold. I say, “The bottle held but ink, […]...
6. THREE SONGS FOR MAYDAY MORNING ( I ) For ‘JC’ of the TLS Nightmare of metropolitan amalgam Grand Hotel and myself as a guest there Lost with my room rifled, my belongings scattered, Purse, diary and vital list of numbers gone – Vague sad memories of mam n’dad Leeds 1942 back-to-back with shared outside lav. Hosannas of sweet May mornings […]...
7. Grandeur loneliness is a state The lonely cannot reach It carries a grandeur That doesn’t fit into Bed-sitters or rejected Ideas – it’s the label stuck On the bottle after The tables have gone...
8. The bottle tree A bottle tree bloometh in Winkyway land – Heigh-ho for a bottle, I say! A snug little berth in that ship I demand That rocketh the Bottle-Tree babies away Where the Bottle Tree bloometh by night and by day And reacheth its fruit to each wee, dimpled hand; You take of that fruit as much […]...
9. Eastern River Do not look for the stones In water above the mud, The boat is gone. No longer with nets and baskets The river is dotted. The sun wick, The marsh marigold flickered out in rain. Only the willow still bears witness, In its roots The secrets of tramps lie hidden, Their paltry treasures, A rusty […]...
10. Friday Night At The Royal Station Hotel Light spreads darkly downwards from the high Clusters of lights over empty chairs That face each other, coloured differently. Through open doors, the dining-room declares A larger loneliness of knives and glass And silence laid like carpet. A porter reads An unsold evening paper. Hours pass, And all the salesmen have gone back to Leeds, […]...
11. This Life Is All Chequer'd With Pleasures and Woes This life is all chequer’d with pleasures and woes, That chase one another like waves of the deep Each brightly or darkly, as onward it flows, Reflecting our eyes, as they sparkle or weep. So closely our whims on our miseries tread, That the laugh is awaked ere the tear can be dried; And, as […]...
12. THE VIOLET UPON the mead a violet stood, Retiring, and of modest mood, In truth, a violet fair. Then came a youthful shepherdess, And roam’d with sprightly joyousness, And blithely woo’d With carols sweet the air “Ah!” thought the violet, “had I been For but the smallest moment e’en Nature’s most beauteous flower, ‘Till gather’d by my […]...
13. Violet De Vere You’ve heard of Violet de Vere, strip-teaser of renown, Whose sitting-base out-faired the face of any girl in town; Well, she was haled before the Bench for breachin’ of the Peace, Which signifies araisin’ Cain, an’ beatin’ up the police. So there she stood before the Court of ruddy Judge McGraw Whom folks called Old […]...
14. Empty I have let her, the kid unstopper me Thinking she would drink me up and part of her I’d be; I am now an empty bottle all right The rest of me your crippled dog instead...
15. With Tenure If Ezra Pound were alive today (and he is) He’d be teaching At a small college in the Pacific Northwest And attending the annual convention Of writing instructors in St. Louis And railing against tenure, Saying tenure Is a ladder whose rungs slip out From under the scholar as he climbs Upwards to empty heaven […]...
16. AUBADE Dawn’s my Mr Right, already Cocks have crowed, birds flown from nests, The neon lights of Leeds last night still Sovereign in my sights, limousines and Pink baloons, tee shirts with green stencilled Dates of wedding days to come, the worn dance floor, Jingling arcades where chrome fendered fruit machines Rest on plush carpets like […]...
17. The Frost-King – Song II Brighter shone the golden shadows; On the cool wind softly came The low, sweet tones of happy flowers, Singing little Violet’s name. ‘Mong the green trees was it whispered, And the bright waves bore it on To the lonely forest flowers, Where the glad news had not gone. Thus the Frost-King lost his kingdom, And […]...
18. Campo di Fiori In Rome on the Campo di Fiori Baskets of olives and lemons, Cobbles spattered with wine And the wreckage of flowers. Vendors cover the trestles With rose-pink fish; Armfuls of dark grapes Heaped on peach-down. On this same square They burned Giordano Bruno. Henchmen kindled the pyre Close-pressed by the mob. Before the flames had […]...
19. SORRY I MISSED YOU (or ‘Huddersfield the Second Poetry Capital of England Re-visited’) What was it Janice Simmons said to me as James lay dying in Ireland? “Phone Peter Pegnall in Leeds, an ex-pupil of Jimmy’s. He’s organising A benefit reading, he’d love to hear from you and have your help.” ‘Like hell he would’ I thought but I […]...
20. Song of Karen, the Dancing Child (O little white feet of mine) Out in the storm and the rain you fly; (Red, red shoes the colour of wine) Can the children hear my cry? (O little white feet of mine) Never a child in the whole great town; (Red, red shoes the colour of wine) Lights out and the blinds pulled […]...
21. 24. Song-No Churchman am I NO churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business contriving a snare, For a big-belly’d bottle’s the whole of my care. The peer I don’t envy, I give him his bow; I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low; […]...
22. NEW YEAR POEM For Jeremy Reed Rejection doesn’t lead me to dejection But to inspiration via irritation Or at least to a bit of naughty new year wit- Oh isn’t it a shame my poetry’s not tame Like Rupert’s or Jay’s – I never could Get into their STRIDE just to much pride To lick the arses of […]...
23. The Pact We played dolls in that house where Father staggered with the Thanksgiving knife, where Mother wept at noon into her one ounce of Cottage cheese, praying for the strength not to Kill herself. We kneeled over the Rubber bodies, gave them baths Carefully, scrubbed their little Orange hands, wrapped them up tight, Said goodnight, never […]...
24. Bridge Over The Aire Book 3 THE KINGDOM OF MY HEART 1 The halcyon settled on the Aire of our days Kingfisher-blue it broke my heart in two Shall I forget you? Shall I forget you? I am the mad poet first love You never got over You are my blue-eyed Madonna virgin bride I shall carve ‘MG loves BT’ On […]...
25. Houses Of Dreams You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams Where my thoughts would throng Are far too full of happiness To even hold a song. Oh, the empty dreams were dim And the empty dreams were wide, They were sweet and shadowy […]...
26. Big Night On The Town drunk on the dark streets of some city, It’s night, you’re lost, where’s your Room? You enter a bar to find yourself, Order scotch and water. Damned bar’s sloppy wet, it soaks Part of one of your shirt Sleeves. It’s a clip joint-the scotch is weak. You order a bottle of beer. Madame Death walks […]...
27. Bridge Over The Aire Book 4 THE LANDS OF MY CHILDHOOD 1 I am leaving the holy city of Leeds For the last time for the first time Leaded domes of minarets in Kirkgate Market, the onion-dome of Ellerby Lane School, the lands of my childhood empty Or gone. Market stalls under wrought Iron balconies strewn with roses and Green imitation […]...
28. Commandeering Our hero was a Tommy with a conscience free from care, And such an open countenance that when he breathed the air He mopped up all the atmosphere so little went to spare You could hardly say he breathed, he “commandeered” it. For nowadays you’ll notice when a man is “on the make”, And other […]...
29. A Study Light cloud pavilion light rain Dark yard day weary open Sit look green moss colour About to on person clothes come There’s light cloud, and drizzle round the pavilion, In the dark yard, I wearily open a gate. I sit and look at the colour of green moss, Ready for people’s clothing to pick up....
30. Gin The first time I drank gin I thought it must be hair tonic. My brother swiped the bottle From a guy whose father owned A drug store that sold booze In those ancient, honorable days When we acknowledged the stuff Was a drug. Three of us passed The bottle around, each tasting With disbelief. People […]...
31. The Wreck of the Golfer It was the Bondi golfing man Drove off from the golf house tee, And he had taken his little daughter To bear him company. “Oh, Father, why do you swing the club And flourish it such a lot?” “You watch it fly o’er the fences high!” And he tried with a brassey shot. “Oh, Father, […]...
32. On Violet's Wafers, Sent Me When I Was Ill Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize, As if before young Violet’s dreaming eyes Still blazed the two great Theban bucklers bright That swayed the random of that furious fight Where Palamon and Arcite made assize For Emily; fresh, crisp as her replies, That, not with […]...
33. HYMN How I love the working-class girls of Leeds, Their mile-wide smiles, eyes bright as beads, Their young breasts bobbing as they run, Hands quick as darting fish, lithe legs Bare as they scramble over the Hollows With brown-soled feet and dimpled bums Half-covered with knickers, and short frocks Full of flowers and their delicate ears, […]...
34. The Violet Down in a green and shady bed, A modest violet grew; Its stalk was bent, it hung its head As if to hide from view. And yet it was a lovely flower, Its colour bright and fair; It might have graced a rosy bower, Instead of hiding there. Yet thus it was content to bloom, […]...
35. Young In New Orleans starving there, sitting around the bars, And at night walking the streets for hours, The moonlight always seemed fake To me, mabye it was, And in the French Quarter I watched The horses and buggies going by, Everybody sitting high in the open Carriages, the black driver, and in Back the man and the woman, […]...
36. Breaking and Entering Many setups. At least as many falls. Winter is paralyzing the country, but not here. Here, the boys are impersonating songs of indigenous Wildlife. Mockingbird on the roof of the Gun Shop, Scrub jay behind the Clear Lake Saloon. And when she darts into a drugstore for a chocolate-covered Almond bar, sparrow hawks get the […]...
37. Ode To The Lemon From blossoms Released By the moonlight, From an Aroma of exasperated Love, Steeped in fragrance, Yellowness Drifted from the lemon tree, And from its plantarium Lemons descended to the earth. Tender yield! The coasts, The markets glowed With light, with Unrefined gold; We opened Two halves Of a miracle, Congealed acid Trickled From the hemispheres […]...
38. Ode To a Lemon Out of lemon flowers Loosed On the moonlight, love’s Lashed and insatiable Essences, Sodden with fragrance, The lemon tree’s yellow Emerges, The lemons Move down From the tree’s planetarium Delicate merchandise! The harbors are big with it- Bazaars For the light and the Barbarous gold. We open The halves Of a miracle, And a clotting […]...
39. Sonnet. Inscribed to Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire ‘TIS NOT thy flowing hair of orient gold, Nor those bright eyes, like sapphire gems that glow; Nor cheek of blushing rose, nor breast of snow, The varying passions of the heart could hold: Those locks, too soon, shall own a silv’ry ray, Those radiant orbs their magic fires forego; Insatiate TIME shall steal those […]...
40. LETTER FROM LEEDS Would ‘any woman’ find me difficult to live with? My tastes are simple: space for several thousand books, The smoke from my pipe stuffed with aromatic Balkan Sobranie, A leftover from the Sixties, frequent brief absences to fulfil My duties as a carer, unending phone calls And the unenviable reputation as England’s worst or best […]...