Jerry Pike Poems

You starin’ at me, sea face?
You green eyed mystery
...

There’s a nestle down deep in the Kentlands,
‘long a bramble dressed crawl of a lane,
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You come and go
Like an occasional swallow
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It was read by a child who’d been playing all day,
and the sketch of her prints had got carried away
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I pulled alongside to your life,
with scarce an interview
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Two bob, and sixpence, half a crown,
in the beginning, gunning down,
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So here I am, I guess, a line without a plot,
assize without a size, a stroke within a jot.
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You and I
and platform one, all still.
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Where the sand steeps up to the moss, boys,
there are feet pointing out, that are mine,
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The glimmering carcass of losing touch,
lay prostrate on the floor,
...