Malcolm Wheatman Poems

Now the world is almost dark
You ask what colour are your eyes? ...
The colour of the night I see reflected there,
Tinged with hues of sorrow and of joy;
...

In gathering twilight here sit you and I.
Insects hang on meditating air
And summer's peopled memories cloud the eye.
Eventually the sun
...

Without red flags, communication cords,
A Lakeland poet, well worth his words,
Once persevered and, for his pains,
He stopped the approaching Grasmere trains.
...

'There's a fly in my tea, ' said I,
Trying to catch the waitress's eye.
Eventually she came, but upset my cup,
And sullenly asked, 'Whatever's up? '
...

Beside a set of three large bottle banks
(Marked neatly, 'Green', 'Brown', 'Clear')
A wino sits, obiquely-eyed, with legs astride,
A large box, empty, by his side,
...

Between the midnight marble stones
That mark the rest of noble bones,
I saw some humble wooden crosses.
Could there be, among the bosses,
...

Astronomers look
Back in time... at those looking
Back in time at them?
...

At opposite ends
Of beams of light, here sit I
And the Universe.
...

They say that when you die
Your soul ascends, and by and by
You're high up in the wide, wide sky.
...

My spllng, nt gd,
Md my pms clr s md
nd widly msndrstd.
Tryng Wrd prcssng thn prvd
...