C Richard Miles Poems

Like the last guardsman on duty, stood to attention,
Protecting the stark remoteness of Rhossili Bay,
The lone house sits, serene on the green-baize carpet
Of lush marram, surveying the neigh-less white mares
...

Now the Christmas tree sits shyly
In the corner of the room,
Like a shining beam of brightness
In the dismal winter gloom,
...

So farewell, wonderful Woolies
Once High Street’s essential shop
For all those bits and pieces
That we had gone and plain forgot.
...

Hail, soaring spires, with pink-tipped prow,
Strong, stone cathedral, built to bow
To gods of smoke and steam and steel
And piston-powered, whirling wheel,
...

Summer raindrops splish-splash in headlong dash
On the yet-green, wet-green meadow grass
Not yet weathered into harvest-yellow carpet
Not yet battered brown, nor flattened down hard yet.
...

Some of us are pollarded:
The opportunities
Where we would branch out
Are cut back
...

And you all stare
Out at me
In black-and-white
Triplicate:
...

There was a rumpus
When Christopher Columbus
Looked at the compass
And guessed it would be best
...