Bob Dellar Poems
- The River Between The Bridges Between two bridges I fish The...
- Goodbye Robert I chucked your soap on a rope over the back ...
- Black Stag He said saw the Black Stag, early one ...
- Hedge Layer-Gap Mender Hedge layer, gap-mender forged from ...
- High Up I`m so high up, that when my brother shouts I ...
- Grave Thoughts I pass a graveyard late at night, moonlight ...
- After In the process of clearing out my dad`s ramshackle ...
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Comments about Bob Dellar
The River Between The Bridges
Between two bridges I fish
The Stour in winter.
The river is traumatised and
Skittish after rain three days solid,
Unsettled its dimensions,
And carved an old willows
Feet away to drown his
Gangly torso and limbs in the margins.
The flow skirts around him like
A politician, creating a back eddy
That pulls and worries at my float;
Its bright orange tip at odds
With the sepia wash of winter.
The nearest bridge is a century old
and a pleasing bird`s egg blue.
Occasional traffic rattles its roadway, ...