A Prayer

A PRAYER

My God, My God, Why have I forsaken you ?

I know you are
My whole being knows you are
I cannot conceive an atheism
even agnosticism will not do
for I know you are
My whole being knows you are

My God, My God, Why have I forsaken you ?

Unsure
you showed me the way
Low
you lifted me up
Sinner
you forgave me
Alien
you took me unto yourself
Loveless
you gave me love
Fearful
you brought me your peace
Idle
you gave me a task to do
Weak
you strengthened me

My God, My God, Why have I forsaken you ?

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 1st November 1967

Publications

1968 Tait's Quarterly (UK)
1980 THE RAINBOW AND OTHER POEMS (Heckmondwyke, Fighting Cock Press)

Sex and Sleep

SEX AND SLEEP

I feel my mortality
like Alexander of Macedon
in sex and in sleep

Sex is the perpetuation of mortality
the only continuum possible
when parents die, and
children so soon grow old
And the use of sleep
is for the regainment
of energy lost in the battle of life

Gods are immortal
and need not sons
to perpetuate their line
Neither need they sleep
for they grow not weary
toiling not

© Gerald England

Composed: Glasgow, 3rd September 1967

Publications

1972 THE WINE THE WOMEN AND THE SONG (Pyle, Kenfig Press)
1991 La Carta de Oliver (Argentina)

******
SEXO Y SUENO

Yo siento mi mortalidad
como Alejandro de Macedonia
en el sexo y en el sueno

El sexo es la perpetuacion de la mortalidad
el unico continuum posible
cuando los padres mueren, y
los hijos crecen demasiado pronto
Y el uso del sueno
es para la recuperacion
de la energia perdida en la batalla de la vida

Los dioses son inmortales
y no necesitan hijos
para perpetuar su linaje
Tampoco necesitan dormir
ya que no se cansan
de no trabajar

© GERALD ENGLAND

translated by Santiago Espel.

Publication

1991 La Carta de Oliver (Argentina)

Death of Cleopatra, after Carlo Cignani

DEATH OF CLEOPATRA, AFTER CARLO CIGNANI

(Kelvingrove Art Gallery, Glasgow)

The Death is the dying,
that short fleeting moment
between the living
and the dead,
which is a seeming eternity.

As the asp curls round your arm
you clasp your left hand under your breast,
you raise your right arm
in a final, feeble, royal command;
but as the asp draws the skin of your breast
between its teeth,
your eyes cry out in agony.

Even Queens have to die!

© Gerald England

Composed: Glasgow, 1st September 1967

Publications

1968 Platform (UK)
1970 MOUSINGS (Sheffield, Headland)
1994 Potpourri (USA)
1997 The Writer's Home Page (Internet)

Free Gift?

FREE GIFT ?

I got some tissues with my coffee yesterday
and last week I got a lady's handkerchief !
Instant coffee -
is that what causes my colds ?

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 20th August 1967

Publications

1968 Breakthru (UK)
1969 IT'S WORLD THAT MAKES THE LOVE GO ROUND (London, Corgi Books)
1992 STEALING KISSES (Hyde, New Hope International)

Mill Poem

MILL POEM

Jill
climbed hill
with Phil
saw mill
in rill
on hill
Sails still

Pinned
no wind

Which sought
they'd bought

Jill
gave Phil
the bill
for mill
in rill
on hill

Nought
he thought
did Phil
of bill

For two
would do

Jill
felt ill
in mill
in rill
on hill
Phil
gave Jill
a pill

Not pure
no cure

She cried
she died

Phil
buried Jill
in mill
in rill
on hill

Went home
to Rome
with Salom-
e

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 20th August 1967

Publications

1970 MOUSINGS (Sheffield, Headland)
1970 Headland (UK)

The Peasant, after Van Gogh

(image courtesy of Olga's Gallery)
"THE PEASANT" AFTER VAN GOGH

Little changes in the country
Tillage of the earth
provides merely a scrap of living
But the face is of one resigned
to the receipt of scraps
Half-piercing eyes
can see beyond the superficial
But the hands are much
much too old and wrinkled
to stretch out
at certain rebuff
Years of setback
harvests ruined by too much rain
or too much sun
interspersed with bumper years
of fine harvests
good wine to drink
and hope for the future
have combined to form
this heavy brow
and old grey beard
wondering just how many warm summers
and how many winters
are yet to be endured
For little changes good or bad
in the country

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 10th August 1967

Publications

1968 Platform (UK)
1980 THE RAINBOW AND OTHER POEMS (Heckmondwyke, Fighting Cock Press)
1987 POETS FOR AFRICA (Las Vegas, Family of God)
1993 Mobius (MI, USA)
1997 The Writer's Home Page (Internet)
1997 The Pink Cadillac Review (Internet)

Metaphor of a Snail and an Elephant

METAPHOR OF A SNAIL AND AN ELEPHANT

Have you ever watched a snail
crawl up the back of an elephant ?

She'd asked me how it was going

It was one of those days
when you've worked three times as hard as you usually do
but for all the results
you might have done (perhaps better had you done)
nothing

The snail had almost reached the top
The elephant moved slightly
The snail
        fell
             off

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 1st August 1967

Publications

1968 New Melody (UK)
1971 Platform (UK)
1972 Roots (UK)
1987 Inkshed (UK)
1989 Short Fuse (USA)
1992 STEALING KISSES (Hyde, New Hope International)

Not My Home

NOT MY HOME

Glasgow never had been my home!
  My home
was elsewhere;
but I did admit to living
  there.

There were times when I would almost
have called the city
  mine,
but I was constantly reminded
that I was a foreigner
  in that city.

There was a lack of communication
  which lay
not in speech,
  nor even
   nationality!

It lay perhaps
 in the dust of the streets;
 in the halves and half-pints;
 in the pseudo-religious cult of football;
 in the crumbling tenements:
it lay ingrained
 in the superficial.

Deep in the hearts of the city people
  there was perhaps
  no difference
between they
 and I.

Glasgow was not my home,
but I did admit to living there.

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 1st August 1967

Publications

1970 MOUSINGS (Sheffield, Headland)
1990 The Plastic Tower (USA)

Pontefract General Infirmary: An Impression

PONTEFRACT GENERAL INFIRMARY:AN IMPRESSION

In the centre of the town
by the main east-west road
it stands;
Victorian-looking at the front
but very modern at the back
by Mayor's Walk and Friarwood
stretching from the Valley Gardens
to the nurseries where liquorice was cultivated
but not any more.

Inside - a mass of corridors,
lifts to the fourth floor and fifth basement,
maternity wards, children's wards, Casualty ward,
offices and kitchens,
X-ray units,
Out-patients'.

A constant hubbub of people surround the walls,
doctors, nurses, matron, specialists,
ambulance-men, office-staff, cleaners and caterers,
radiographers, pathologists, and of course
there are patients as well.

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 17th July 1967

Publication

1968 Manifold (UK)

To One Who Left -- Being Bitter

TO ONE WHO LEFT - BEING BITTER

thought it would break my heart
but you didn't care
you left allthesame

o i went
just like we'd planned
a friend went with me
but he had to be back early
then it rained
o yes how it rained
and how it rained
i had my umbrella
i didn't get wet
you'd have liked me to get wet
or perhaps you think i'm wet enough already
yes
i admit it
it wasn't the same without you...
but i wouldn't say it was worse

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 9th July 1967

Publication

1970 Bogg (UK)

Moor Murder

(click on text/image to enlarge)
© Gerald England

Composed: Glasgow, 25th May 1967

Unpublished

Life

LIFE

It is an ephemeral life I lead
a sort of make believe
where the real things of life
barely exist at all
and where reality is a thin meandering of the mind

The sun is shining with unbounded vigour
on this day this Public Holiday
but I have work to do
which must be done
No holiday for me

I sit in my room and I can listen
to the birds singing through the open window
to the Roses Match being broadcast on the radio
and can recall the now past times
when I too joined the crowd
watching the cricket actually there
lazing in the sun
with nothing to do

These things were real enough then
Still they invade my room
But I have my work to do
and that alone is real

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 10th May 1967

Publication

1976 MEETINGS AT THE MOOR'S EDGE (West Kirkby, Headland)

Charade

CHARADE

           Life's mostly a game, said the poor man
That it is, said the rich man
           But I won in the end
Won ? But you are poor
I won  I am rich
           Ah alas how little you have read of the rules
           You are the one who lost
           I too have my riches
           and they are far greater than yours
I have credit in Zurich
           The Post Office cashes my cheque
I eat the finest venison of Europe
and drink the best Burgundy
           I eat only eggs
           and drink only milk
I have servants at my beck and call
No man is my master
           The animals in the fields are my only servants
           God is my only master
I live in a white mansion
           I live in a grey box
I am master of the game
You are just a pawn
I pity you
           You are the pawn
           I pity you
           I have my thoughts of peace
I am too busy making money
to think of peace
           I have the sun and the wind
           the songs of the birds
           the freshness of rain
           and the friendship of dogs
I have no time
for such as these
           I have riches in my soul
I have no soul
If I had   it has died
           I shall live when I die
When I die
the game will end

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 5th May 1967

Publication

1991 New Wave (USA)

Musaphobia

MUSAPHOBIA

I heard a new word today.
It has two meanings
apparently;
- quite distinct - I am assured.
Musaphobia: dislike of mice
                   or poetry.

I've often been asked
whether I were man
         or mouse.

I can answer that now
for there is a likeness there -
the seeming insignificant
which none-the-less
can frighten the mighty ELEPHANT,
or make women
           stand
                 on chairs        
                           & lift
                                  their skirts.

Yes the poem does have affinity with
   the mouse.

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 1st May 1967

Publications

1970 MOUSINGS (Sheffield, Headland)
1989 Eavesdropper (UK)
1990 Inkshed (UK)
1997 Tara's Poetry Page (Internet)
2010 Chanticleer (Internet)

May Eve

MAY EVE

It is late
and I have a hard day tomorrow
I should be in bed
for I am well tired
but thoughts are bottled up inside me
and I must release them
before I sleep

The cork fits tight
No matter how hard I pull
I cannot release it

Tomorrow is more than a new day
It is a new month
the month of May
But what does that mean to me?
There are few celebrations in the city
one takes notice of
There are too many celebrations
to notice the particular
My two eyes,
my two tired, drooping eyes
have never gazed upon a Maypole
I cannot imagine the revelry
of Richmond in sixteen-sixty
with the Sheriff and the Bishop of Hereford
joining in with the throng —
the May games
the morrice-dancing
the drinking of sack
the Robin Hood play —

The cork still lies in the bottle's neck
I take the bottle
I smash it  Crash

The thoughts spill out onto the paper
disappear out of sight
over the table's edge
My mind is emptied
I have lost my thoughts
At least I can go to sleep in peace

© Gerald England

Composed: Glasgow, 14th April 1967

Publication

1990 Spider Eyes (USA)

There is a Choir

THERE IS A CHOIR

There is a choir buzzing in my head
an harmonious choir
thinking
thinking -
it is thinking
one thought
and it is buzzing
in my head

This thought is not my thought
It is thought
by the choir
thinking in my head
I am not responsible
for this thought
I am only responsible for my own thoughts

Let the choir think
I shall not head their thoughts
Their thoughts are not my thoughts
They are not
and they shall not be
It is hard to resist
the thinking of the choir in my head

The choir which is thinking in my head
is thinking of a chess problem
on a train
jumping a brook
Their thoughts
are worth
a thousand pounds
a word

Alice thinks in pictures

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 10th April 1967

Publication

1969 AN ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY (Pontefract, Whitwood and District Arts Association)

In the Park

IN THE PARK

The sun is shining this April spring day
the park is full of people in a throng
there are lovers walking hand in hand
youngsters playing football all among
the dogs that vie with each other for the ball
students from the University are lying on the grass
swotting up their French verbs and German syntax
the ducks on the lake are being fed by enfants en masse
though most of the bread gets stolen by the pigeons
everyone here is happy as the sun beats down
everyone that is except one, lonely, uniformed man
the park-keeper sports a very black frown

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 4th April 1967

Publications

1980 THE RAINBOW AND OTHER POEMS (Heckmondwyke, Fighting Cock Press)
1994 Read This (UK)

Immortal Beings ... Pass On

IMMORTAL BEINGS....PASS ON

The cessation of a heartbeat,
a quiet passage perhaps in bed,
accident, suicide, murder foul -
Death is in the living inbred

The living are not slow to learn
the short lesson of Life's threadlike spin
woven into a fine mesh of cloth
only the scissors genuine

Mycologists hunt DNA
in fungi cells on plates of agar --
from children who tear their toys apart,
they’re not removed so very far

Medical men must needs define
that they see as part of nature's plan;
sophists argue the implications
of organ transplants man to man

Boredom’s the root of all evil
The Devil works on an idle mind
and moulds in demoniacal form
all empty heads that he can find

Death gets so knotted up with Life
that all becomes boredom in the main
and if not an intellectual
one simply has to use one's brain

Meaning’s sought in the meaningless
Frustration then the end of research
A jump, rope, knife, gun, poison, drugs
and Life again left in the lurch

Those who will neither yield nor join
must needs beat (out the living daylights?)
and murderers classically make plans
during the long, dark, wintry nights

The foul, bloody, unnatural
are not to Halloween's night confined
Though it is light outside, the darkness
is in the night-time of the mind

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 12th February 1967

Publications

1993 International Poetry (USA)
2000 Monas Hieroglyphica (UK)
2003 Chanticleer Magazine (UK)

Politician's Proverb

POLITICIAN'S PROVERB

A slogan a day
keeps the electorate at bay

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 2nd February 1967

Publications

1972 Wormwood Review (USA)
1988 Pennine Ink (UK)
1989 The Affiliate (Canada)
1992 STEALING KISSES (Hyde, New Hope International)

Spanning the River of My Childhood

SPANNING THE RIVER OF MY CHILDHOOD

I long to walk the way again
where in childhood days I walked
I remember how often I went
along the side of the river past the weir
over Low Green Fields by the River Went
through lovely Brocodale to the sewage works
but forgetting that turned off
along the bridal path to Thorpe,
to Badsworth and its church
and its row of tall poplar trees
lining the Royd Moor Road -
the landmark which seemed so full of majesty
when viewed from my bedroom window as a child
But now I pass them in haste
South to the bypass then turning North

Beyond Badsworth is Upton Beacon
relic of a now bygone age
when fires warned of Vikings in the Humber -
part of a fiery chain of beacons bright,
but modern telegraph wires are more efficient
and so they ought to be, encroaching
upon the landscape as they do, but they serve a
good purpose

More often though I left Upton alone
and followed the road through Thorpe
past the Kennels and down the steep descent
to perhaps the most prettiest village
in the whole of South Yorks.
now quiet and free
No lorries churn through Wentbridge now
It is good
for its beauty can be enjoyed
standing in safety on the bridge
watching the Went flow swiftly on its way to the
Don
not so clear and sparkling as it once was
but serene and quiet
unpretentiously offering its unmitigated beauty

I never did get as far as Smeaton
My eastern limit was the Great North Road
(Great is not my adjective)
now spanning the Went on a slender
tall, and even beautifully flowing, viaduct -
a symbol of modern progress
the Age of Road Transport, the Civil Engineer, the
Bridge-builder
It is a symbol to me too
but a sad one
It is the symbol of an exit
a flight Northwards
away from my childhood
to where I must go
to 'fulfill myself'

I have left home and gone away
Returning for holidays is not the same
for always I must
leave again
and then in a lorry or a car or whatever lift I
hitch
I must pass over
that viaduct
spanning the river of my childhood

Ironically
the best view of the river Went
the best that is known to me
is from the top of that viaduct -
the Went Valley Viaduct
five miles from the motorway
and five from Ferrybridge
But who stops ?
How many know that view ?
One in a thousand
of the drivers who pass it in haste ?

I know of it
I shall never forget
It is the river of my childhood
I know of it
I shall never forget
That is all that matters

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 11th January 1967

Publications

1967 Pontefract & Castleford Express (UK)
1981 DADDYCATION (Ashton under Lyne, New Hope International)