C Richard Miles Poems

Although we see those whining wolves which stand
Outside the door, or those which stalk the land
Now times are hard, and those, since we are wise,
That hide themselves in some sheep’s-hide disguise.
...

Two seated drunkards by Exmouth market mock-fight
Hands interlocked, wrestling, perhaps in anger but
Perhaps some deeper link connects the shabby pair
Something more than the need for drink, for sure.
...

Around his neck that boy had a snake, mottled green
As he passed when I was waiting by the cash machine.
As the credit crunch grips like a boa constrictor
Around the throat of each gullible investor,
...

Boarding the bus in Clapton,
The lad in the England top
Sucked slowly on a pink straw
From his can of fizzy pop.
...

City streets are still too thronged to sleep.
Plans for peaceful nights are long delayed.
Air hangs heavy in the humid heat.
Sirens scream their summer serenade.
...

Tattered bunting flutters in the breeze;
Balloons bobble limply on their strings
But milling masses only weakly wander
Idly squandering their last half hour.
...

White clouds shift cool and ceaselessly across the summer sky
Chased by their blacker brethren who don’t mean to keep us dry
And, as the rain-front sweeps its curtains closed across the scene,
At least the dust-dry park is pleased as yellow yields to green.
...

Salts Mill at Saltaire stands still now, unblack,
In shadow of tall-pillared smokeless stack,
A chapter closed, as textile turns to text:
Barn-echo shed is stacked with books instead
...

I watched a scruffy heron, simply pitched
On scrubby islet-patch at Hebden Bridge
Between the muddy black sacks ditched
Beside the flooded beckside, grey amidst
...

Beech, birch and sycamore and ash
Still stretch each straggly bent-back branch
Across the shadowed sunken path
That scrambles up the steep-slant bank.
...