i could© GERALD ENGLAND
have closed
the door
not let
you go
i left
it open
you left
i had hoped
you might
have stayed
the door
being open
you not
passing through
so as
you go
i only
ask
be careful
how you close
the door
behind
you
I guess I always knew it couldn't be true© GERALD ENGLAND
I only said what I knew I must
Only what I knew in my heart
over which I had so little control
No one told any lies of consequence
We saw the problems as they came
Saw through them No need to speak
of demolition and a falling
I used you like you use Laurie
You used me like Laurie uses you
Not that Laurie came between us
It was just ourselves and you and I
You want my love but need it less
I need your love but want it less
You rebel to try to loose yourself
I rebel to try to find myself
Go hide yourself in the busy city streets
and leave me to the wild high moors
We'll meet again and not by accident
There still will be no need to speak.
On the record© GERALD ENGLAND
I had placed on the player
Floyd Cramer
played
"For Those That Cry"
Meanwhile I sat in the chair
feet on the stool
in front of the warm fire
sitting in comfort
with Floyd's piano
in my head
that was thinking of you
far away
After the record stopped
I remained a while
seated
listening to the hum from the silent record-player
the sound of the gas fire
the traffic outside
and the tick
of the clock
The clock struck the hour
With the chime removed
it no longer strikes a clear note
but a dull resounding thud
Eventually
I got up
changed the record
turned down the heat
made supper
Finally
Whether for you or for Floyd
I cried.
Why are your poems so full of country images?© GERALD ENGLAND
It was the confessed citylovingliving girl who asked
I hadn't noticed
It was he who knew the countryside who answered
he whose thoughts roamed about the wild moors
lapped about the shores of a lake
became thick as forests
rose high as the birds
Yet he lives in a city
Sheffield's not a city she said
Not like London New York San Francisco
What's a city?
He thought of the wilder parts of Hampstead Heath
The Serpentine that serves well as any lake
the forest around Walthamstow and Epping
The birds sing over London too
He thought of the journey along Attercliffe Road
or up Brightside to the motorway
of traffic lights huge shops and factories
She thought of The Tate The British Museum
of supermarkets open until midnight
Then they looked up at the sky
in London there was a red dust glow
New York was worse
the stars were seen in a haze over Sheffield
but on Brackenhill Common
every star shone clear and bright.
there was a ten percent loss of sound© GERALD ENGLAND
under bridges
the noise too of other traffic
at times disrupted
bach's b minor mass
direct from st. pauls
over the car radio
carried us from settle to wakefield
we weren't after perfection
were totally satisfied
with ninety percent
You left me several packets© GERALD ENGLAND
of your special hotel coffee
Its pure ground freshness has
spoilt my tastebuds for
the supermarket's instant brand
that leaves the palate flat
Now every cup of coffee that I drink
reminds me of you
the strong aroma in a tiny cup
the elusiveness of the really perfect brew
I drink — drank deeply
There's one packet yet left
I cannot buy it over here
so I drink now a weaker brew
and I've started looking for some better coffee
to buy
but I'll not find anything
to more than
substitute.
We left the valley in sunshine
climbed steeply to the high hills
where sheep outnumbered far
the passing cars
There the rain met our ascent
with mist obscuring the views
Surrounded by mist and by moor
we were totally enclosed
in our own world
The beat of the rain
and the bleating of sheep
were alien sounds
I wanted to explain unable to show
the beauty of grass and heatherclad moorland the
tarn shimmering in sunlight to our right
and Penyghent rearing up in front of us
There was none of this to be seen
Enshrouded in our own world
it mattered only that we were there
Sat in the car on Royd Moor Lane,© GERALD ENGLAND
by a rubbish tip and a tar machine,
a dog named Robert came walking by,
hopping on three feet
Its front, right paw lay limp
and we watched that dog
named Robert go by
before resuming our kissing
her eyes are the most beautiful eyes in the world© GERALD ENGLAND
her eyes have seen the glamour of life
her eyes have seen the sordid seemy side
her eyes live in fear of life
her eyes live in hope for life
her eyes see without looking
her eyes talk too much
her eyes are two in number that is functional
her eyes cry saltwet tears
her eyes are happy laughing eyes
her eyes are the most beautiful eyes in the world
i was never so wise© GERALD ENGLAND
as to avoid the rush of the crosswinds
on the motorway
the quiet of the service station
is disturbed by the early morning birds
singing in the dawn over the tarmac
so i breakfast shave wash cleanteeth
and wait
listening to pop music on the car radio
waiting
o I always was the precipitous fool
i know
last night i said i love you
when you answered how can you
that did it I knew then
that i could not help myself
