Poem by John Calvert

 

 

 

Helsby Hill profileTHE OLD MAN OF HELSBY HILL

Who punched me on the nose
To spite my face?
Broken, I blink down lines of sun
I stiffen my profile

I sniff the sea
Stanlow”s sweel, Fiddlers Ferry fumes
My powers are older
Outliving the fossil
In my Devonian bone

I felt the legions
Yomp over my back
Saw the plodding saltsters hooves
Then the traffic”s tinnitus
Hissed towards the coast

Some pause in my shadow
For burgers, for unleaded
In artics or hatchbacks
They glint out of time
I set into stone

Rain sands me down
Energy to entropy
Eras slip from my grasp
My face will come and go
See me in this light

John Calvert

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Christmas Snow Poem by John Calvert

SNOW CLEARING

All day we met the snow, on every curve
Each locked white cutting, as we heaved the weight
Three coupled engines, plough at either end
We sliced the edge of air with loco breath
Rasping as pistons kicked compacted white
And stuttering drive wheels spun on skidding rail
As snow lobbed handfuls past our tarpulined dark
We crept back, til we charged blankness, again
We rammed, we thudded , winter nudged aside
There on the footplate steam and steel rejoiced
And in that emptied landscape, nothing moved
Along the tick of telegraph and fence
A struggling afternoon drew evening down
Already freezing on our driven line

John Calvert 2015

 

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