Pete Crowther Poems

This Sunday afternoon I meant
To write a poem but fell asleep.
I woke alone in the summer house
To hear the raindrops pattering
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Wild roses bloom in May
When trees are freshly green
And everything is bright and clean
In a new-made world’s first day.
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In the supermarket car park
I parked my Kawasaki
400 ZRX, new and gleaming,
locked it took the key
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Have you ever thought how it would feel
To be a cow, or horse say, munching grass
In some wet field with flies all round your eyes,
No hands to shoo them off, or worse,
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That morning by the empty beach
Just you and me, the sea,
The sighing waves that break
Upon the sand, the sun, the sky,
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From dawn this misty
morning we have heard
the doleful calling of the distant
foghorn warning all the sailors
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“How are you keeping then? ”, she wrote,
“still going on O.K.? Me,
I’m at college now, doing English lit.
This term it’s Philip Larkin —
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It doesn’t matter now
But then it did.
When I was young
I would have loved
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I know a secret place where time stands still,
It lies beyond a five-barred gate, enclosed
By hawthorn hedges heaped up high with drifting snow
In maytime when the barn owl glides, pale ghost,
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Persephone’s on holiday from Hell,
Released a while from Pluto’s iron spell.
It’s springtime and the air is warm and sweet,
The lovely girl walks smiling down the street.
...