Number three in our look at the work of local poets features Stephen Kingsnorth. Here we feature two more poems that bring to life two major features of our beautiful county. You can find more of his poetry on his blog.
If you are a poet yourself, why not send us your work and we may be able to include it in a future issue.
Photo courtesy of GraceWood Photography
Battlegrounds Beneath World’s End
Instead
of cyprus wraps,
World’s End zephyrs
thrash, flail the flesh, flashing
blades without regard
to solemnity of
activity.
Behind
leylandii, out-
spacing growth, immigrants
which forget their place, failing
in seasonal work, hide
three green
plots.
Boldest
site, the granite column,
rings of poppies fixed by twine,
lawn, chain-link trim, if living, blooms for
day, two, here the year, cut names
there, bodies ever sodded,
emigrants.
Their
grandchildren
on near balded turf, crouch
to roll fingered balls,
bend and flex, short
of wind, enough to tease those
who treat their rôle too
leisurely.
Their grandchildren
grass now safety mats, play
area, left unsupervised, the roundabouts
and swings become a
battleground to
win.
Cross Clywedog
As if toboggan summer run,
sleigh clouds, blob crush on either side,
yet hang wild garlic in the air –
stupor ski continent resort.
A bell, as Heidi, Alpine air,
but this from breeze, chimes over grave,
the hawthorn powdered over night,
my edelweiss, cow parsley, sage
understanding where now we are.
This slope by cemetery plot,
we slide between piled banks of white,
though cowslips yellow sward beside,
here cattle heard as low from verge.
Where climates merge in orbit dreams,
our seasoned hikes, wrest mountain bikes,
through petal flakes, hail heartsease drift,
blooms melt by Smelt where open mined.
Thank you for reading ‘Local Poets – Stephen Kingsnorth’. For more poetry, click here.
