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Two poems from Geoff Sawers

Ethnic Rinse

You say: they’re lost in the tunnels, under the fields
You say: now is hardly the time to be waving placards
tell me, loam and clay thickening between your toes
what brick-dust and glass feel like underfoot

Evil accelerates
froths from skies and circulates with the coffee
in cataleptic delirium, greentext trance
the walls, the ships, the moles as high as a a

complete collapse of metaphor, parataxis
drip, run, hide, dodge, read the morning paper
lost in the screenworld, the glue between the lines
the summer corn as high as Stalin or Pol Pot’s eyes

~

Powers of the Water

her frozen fingers
work her hair
into a fishtail braid
waiting for a letter, one-sided, wondering
if a single word, like love, might not be redacted

on Mapledurham Hill
the moon is a sun
seen through five fathoms of water
and kicking our legs like frogs we lift off
candles lit, swim up and up and up to

too soon
or not too soon
journeys are hard
come in from the yard and wash your hands
your face, before you sit at the table

mutinous
hours too soon
unmarked cars
the rap on your door several hours before dawn
mad but not mad enough

to write
dust in the night
bats in a rage
wheel and scream and the rising sun breaks
like an egg across my face

scratched ankles
on rough maple bark
a vixen barks
walnuts honey and wine, her treasure always
one snowflake in a silk-lined box

~

Geoff Sawers

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A poem by Kate McLoughlin — Kennet Avon

Kennet Avon

Reading: Kennet swerves to Thames.
We start to walk, upstream,
the little green English river beside us,
Bristol our end.

Kennet easters, wester we,
each on our own business,
parallel but opposite,
enjoying the other’s contrary impetus
in mutual respect.

Switchback at Cadley Lock:
our companion water
no longer contra
but similarly aimed.

Its congruence encourages,
yet I miss our agreeing
to move in opposite directions
side-by-side.

~

Kate McLoughlin lives in Iffley, Oxfordshire

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Two poems by Eric Fairman

The dancing farmer

(Inspired by Candy)

The dancing farmer was out in the field,
She was making hay whilst the sun shined.
With a scythe she cut the lush green grass ,
For it was her task that she had been assigned.

With her two pronged hay fork she went a turning,
To dry it equally on both sides.
She danced and sang as she toiled away,
She was happy, and besides.

It was an important task and this she knew,
For the animals they all needed to be fed.
She had much to do before her day was done,
And she could fall back into her bed.

From heavy to light, and from dark to light,
The grass turned into hay.
Thin and wispy, and dry and firm,
Then she smiled and said “I say”.

What a fine job I have done indeed,
And what a pleasure to behold.
The green lush grass has now changed its hue,
And is now a beautiful gold.

~~

The scarecrow and the crow!

(Inspired by Jimmy)

The scarecrow said to the crow,
For years I have stood in this field.
I have watched you come and go,
And to fear you do not yield.

Why do I not scare you?,
After all I am indeed a scarecrow!
But you sit perched upon my shoulder,
I wonder how this can be so?

With it’s black beady eyes,
The crow it looked around.
And then a loud caw, caw, caw,
Was the only sound.

Cannot you speak to me crow?
I bet you have tales to tell.
I have watched you fly off over yonder,
Over the church tower with it’s bell.

Out of sight you go,
To where I do not know.
And me, I’m rooted to the spot,
Do you not pity this poor scarecrow?

Who lives out his days,
With an unchanging view.
O’ little crow,
How I wish I was you.

But you do not even fear me,
And how you peck at my straw.
Do you have no shame?
But you only answer with a caw!

Fly away and leave me to my sorrow,
Let me lament and wail.
I cannot even scare you,
At my purpose I do fail.

So leave me be and fly away,
Do not come back again.
You only cause me sorrow,
And unbearable tormenting pain.

Be gone for now and for ever,
Just leave me to my woe.
As I stay rooted to my spot,
And watch the seasons come and go.

~~

Eric Fairman is a local poet born in Reading, who has been writing prolifically for the last several years and who also performs locally at open mics and art centres, including South Street Poets’ Café and Dreading Slam at the Rising Sun Arts Centre. He loves writing and performing with a passion.

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Wilde’s Street – a poem by Jasmine Siddle

Wilde’s Street

Wilde’s words are his harbour –
they remove the solitude from his cell.
Pen in hand,
thoughts scurry to pass the prison’s perimeter.
His hand takes them.

To the brothel,
where men calculate how desperate Sal is
Ten pence? Four shillings? One even?
Her malnourished children huddle together,
their fingers blue and
hair damp from the leak in the roof.
Will their mother bring bread and milk tonight?

Who gathers by the river?
Society’s stragglers
who stumble, misplace their footing
and spy silver coins out the gutters.

Two men disappear down an alley
far from the streetlights
only here can their lips meet.
This is Wilde’s memory –
his conviction.
Will he and Douglas ever be like this again?

Now Wilde descends.
He clutches the paper
with inky fingertips –
a crime in itself;
the evidence of an imagination
graffitied over the wall.

~

Jasmine Siddle is an English Literature with Creative Writing graduate from the University of Reading who loves to write short stories, poems and screenplays.

An image of the Banksy mural on the wall of Reading Gaol showing Oscar Wilde in striped pajamas scaling down the wall using knotted bedsheets weighed down by a typewriter

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This Always – a new poem from Claire Dyer

This Always

There never was an always like this:
luminous, the slow fall of sycamore keys;
the catch at the back of my throat
like bonfire smoke; bruises
on the petals of late roses.
I am watching this always on timelapse –
stutter and flow. This always is
parakeet-cry and evening, mirror
and reflection, the edges of broken glass
by the roadside throwing up sparks
from the headlamps of passing cars.
It is the slender rain after sunset,
some sky fleetingly lilac, peach,
above the fields on the far side of the river.

 

Claire Dyer, February 2025

Claire Dyer has published four collections of poetry with Two Rivers Press. Her most recent is The Adjustments.