English poetry

Poems in English


“She was right. I had to find something new.
There was only one thing for it.”

My mother told it straight, London will finish you off,
And I’d heard what Doctor Johnson said, When a man is tired
Of London, he is tired of life, but I’d been tired of life

For fourteen years; Scotland, never thoroughly enlightened,
Was gathering back its clutch of medieval wonts
And lately there had been what my doctors called a pica

(like a pregnant woman’s craving to eat Twix with piccalilli
Or chunks of crunchy sea-coal): I’d been guzzling vinegar,
Tipping it on everything, falling for women who were

Beautifully unsuitable, and hiding up wynds off the Cowgate
With a pokeful of hot chips drenched in the sacred stuff
And wrapped in the latest, not last, edition of The Sunday Post

Where I read that in London they had found a Chardonnay
With a bouquet of vine leaves and bloomed skins, a taste
Of grapes and no finish whatsoever, which clinched the deal.

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Poem Acid - Roddy Lumsden