Poetry
I also write poetry. A list of forthcoming publications coming soon.
In the meanwhile - here are two new ones and further down the page links to some poetry films on the streets of my neighbourhood commissioned by the Bernie Grant Arts Centre as a part of the Great Book of Tottenham.
Bits in the Carpet
Blot out all mine iniquities, create in me a clean heart. Psalm 51
Would you do that again, please?
There’s still bits in the carpet. Look! Can’t you see?
The devil lurks in dusty
places, especially under the settee.
I tell you a terrible darkness
has taken hold of this country.
– you missed a bit –
If only people would stop
bringing dirt into the house.
If only they would learn to tidy up
after themselves,
remember they are fallen, weak,
pay attention to the need for self control.
If only they were more like me.
Pomegranate
God grant Margaret a pomegranate
The poem of fruits,
a praise of jewels
come to rest by this hospital bed.
God grant Margaret a pomegranate
for she has been asking after Persephone
tricked by Hades to eat when starving,
the six seeds of the berried pulp.
God grant Margaret a pomegranate
Because inside this seeded apple
is a beating heart, a hymn,
blood against the tongue.
Street Poems
The Excellent
The Front Gardens of Langham Road
In the meanwhile - here are two new ones and further down the page links to some poetry films on the streets of my neighbourhood commissioned by the Bernie Grant Arts Centre as a part of the Great Book of Tottenham.
Bits in the Carpet
Blot out all mine iniquities, create in me a clean heart. Psalm 51
Would you do that again, please?
There’s still bits in the carpet. Look! Can’t you see?
The devil lurks in dusty
places, especially under the settee.
I tell you a terrible darkness
has taken hold of this country.
– you missed a bit –
If only people would stop
bringing dirt into the house.
If only they would learn to tidy up
after themselves,
remember they are fallen, weak,
pay attention to the need for self control.
If only they were more like me.
Pomegranate
God grant Margaret a pomegranate
The poem of fruits,
a praise of jewels
come to rest by this hospital bed.
God grant Margaret a pomegranate
for she has been asking after Persephone
tricked by Hades to eat when starving,
the six seeds of the berried pulp.
God grant Margaret a pomegranate
Because inside this seeded apple
is a beating heart, a hymn,
blood against the tongue.
Street Poems
The Excellent
The Front Gardens of Langham Road

