The Fields of Bosnia

THE FIELDS OF BOSNIA

The banks of the Danube
can be lonelier than outcast iron mines.
I saw nothing but
before the females in my family told us
she was back
and not terrified of the death.
But where cries the night
in rape to the shrieking rain?
We will lie anywhere.
Kataja threw her daughter's head;
held it as though scraping hell.
I crushed it into tatters.
A new demon rules Eden,
a leper nun who doesn't breed,
a brew reeking of loyalty.
I still don't live in mud because I have children.
I go without supper;
his meeting takes the chocolate eclairs domed with green
cattle are aimed at the bulging windows.
They say KEEP OFF;
this place between two pinnacles
of delectable phosphorescent green rocks
where a huge bird scuttles up towards Mostar blowing snow.
They roll in their bathing suits,
Their barrels smell of dirty blackness.
In the light so many wives attack him.
Two girls pass gripping a little old bed sheet.
He is a swirling mass of unhealthy tree, under the woman,
feeling sorry, shuffling along,
Men of the burnt fields grow instant whiskers;
meanwhile the sunny meadow is life.

© Gerald England

Composed: Gee Cross, 19th June 1994

Publications

1999 Gravity (Internet)
2001 Blue Beat Jacket (Japan)

I Said I'd Never Been So Then I Went

I SAID I'D NEVER BEEN SO THEN I WENT

So this is Brighton
home of Dowdon, George
and sundry other socalled poets of lesser note
The beach is all pebbles
and none of them flat enough for skimming
They have a peculiar way too
of numbering the streets
consecutively up one side
and down again the other

I arrived in the dark

In the morning light I'll leave

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Brighton, 1st September 1972

Publications

1976 MEETINGS AT THE MOOR'S EDGE (West Kirkby, Headland)
2002 Blue Beat Jacket (Japan)

You, Being Absent, The Cat

YOU, BEING ABSENT, THE CAT

Come to our rave-up in York, they said
You being absent, I said OK Why not?
I drank several drinks
enough, no more, not to fall foul of the law
I danced a few jives and a couple of waltzes
I read some poems while the jazz band played,
and said a kind word to the fat girl with glasses
I could have made the available lay
instead of driving off,
mumbling about thirty miles
and a poem to be written

I ran over a cat at Sherburn-in-Elmet
It came out of the dark and under a wheel
The blood was sticky all over the tyre
An old cat, they said, and always careless
It wasn't my fault, they assured me
It was expected to happen sooner or later
Just my hard luck to get involved, they said,
giving me sugary tea to calm my nerves
I drank it quickly, thanked them, said good-bye

If asked tomorrow, I shall say
that it wasn't a bad party,
reaching, you being absent, for another black coffee

© Gerald England

Composed: Sheffield, 10th March 1972

Publications

1976 MEETINGS AT THE MOOR'S EDGE (West Kirkby, Headland)
1992 Green's Magazine (Canada)
1993 The Affiliate (Canada)
1999 Unlikely Stories (Internet)
2002 Blue Beat Jacket (Japan)