Tag Archives: #Change

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Babe.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Babe.

It’s New Year’s Eve,

and time to leave,

to make way

for another one.

What did I achieve?

Well, that depends

on who you are,

and where you are.

There must have been some good,

in some neighbourhood,

to balance out the bad;

but, let’s face the facts,

in scenes, or acts,

there are always

the winners

and the losers.

Remember this,

beggars can’t be choosers,

and the poor

get poorer,

as the rich

eat all the pies.

“There’s mizzle on the moor!”

“There’s mizzle on the moor!”

‘Oh, no!’ we think –

for we are attuned not to blink

at the radio announcer’s weather report.

And, anyway, what is a bit of mizzle

when it’s on the moor?

It’s not as if we live on the moor.

Perhaps, if we did,

a boy of mizzle might be a worry

back to bed we might have to hurry;

or, if we are going out,

we may have to prepare for the ‘mizzling’ weather –

seems there’s a lot of it about!

My ‘Adlestrop’ Sequence (Extended)

Adlestrop 9th July, 2015 - photograph courtesy of Jane Goldsack Adlestrop 9th July, 2015 – photograph courtesy of Jane Goldsack

A Sequence in homage to Edward Thomas’ Adlestrop

1.
Like a Bullet Train
Through the heart of my country:
Your words travelled at speeds
Beyond my belief.

On the surface, overland
They said one thing;
But, they were saying something
Deeper, darker, underneath.

I felt their bite
As they hurtled through my station;
And, although they failed to stop,
Their passing left me changed,
Like Adlestrop.

—-

2a.
You are not really a poet
Unless you’ve been to Adlestrop;
It’s an old, abandoned station,
Where the trains don’t stop;
So, don’t think you’re smart
With your beat-box rhymes
And your new hip-hop;
Because, you are really ‘not’ a poet
Until you’ve been to Adlestrop.

2b.

I Stopped at Adlestrop
For a very short while
Had to clear some memory on my phone
In order to capture the moment
And then someone else needed to stop there
For a photographic potpourri;
And the bees buzzed,
And carried on their way;
As I carried on mine,
After an all-to-short stop
At a place with a name
And a bench with a poem upon it.

Edward’s Adlestrop has changed,
As everything does in time,
No train stopped
Or pulled away
From Adlestrop
On that sunny July day.

—-

3.

Adlestrop by Edward Thomas
Yes. I remember Adlestrop

The name, because one afternoon

Of heat, the express-train drew up there

Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.

No one left and no one came

On the bare platform. What I saw

Was Adlestrop—only the name
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,

And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,

No whit less still and lonely fair

Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang

Close by, and round him, mistier,

Farther and farther, all the birds

Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.
4.
Return to Adlestrop – Graeme Sandford

“Adlestrop!

I can’t sell you a ticket to Adlestrop!
There’s no station there, and the train won’t stop
It’s been a long time since Adlestrop
was there at all, There’s no way you’ll be reaching
that destination, since Beeching removed the station.
He took out the heart of the railway nation – seemingly with elation.

Adlestrop!

I can do you a return to Kingham
or Moreton in Marsh, sir.
But there’s nothing closer
I know it’s harsh
to lose such a place,
it’s a proper disgrace,
almost an ‘improper’ disgrace,
and you can tell I’m upset
by the look on my face.

Adlestrop!”