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Patrick Ladbrooke poems, quotations and biography on Patrick Ladbrooke poet page. Read all poems of Patrick Ladbrooke and infos about Patrick Ladbrooke.
I began to discover literature, including poetry just 3 years ago at the age of 57, after spending my whole career as a chemist. I have written some short stories and poems since, some of which have been published, but only in places that will publish anything. It's a hobby really (he says, wishing he could make a success of it!) .
Thanks for dropping by,
Patrick more »
Patrick Ladbrooke Poems
I remember nights of roaring surf,
The long rods nodding with the pull,
Watching in the hiss and glare of pressure lamps,
Waiting with my father, for the fish to run.... more »
There is a five bar gate,
white, by a woodland track
where, half a century back,
we talked till evening late.... more »
On the trailing edge of winter, pale light led me
To the cut, where alder and bowed willow stand
Reflected in the greys and browns of long waiting,
While winter burdened boats slack at their ...... more »
Tall the abbey tower,
Now with no bell to call
Through a perfect arch to nowhere,
But a crumbling abbey wall.... more »
Ahead, in rain, the morning surges
With brake lights on the dual carriageway;
Around a slight curve traffic crushes
Yellow blinking to the outside lane.... more »
No black is blacker than the darkest night,
Without star or moon,
Or guiding light,
Of love.... more »
A stranger he will be
The sailor home from sea,
To child left in the womb
An infant now he's home.... more »
Sailing
On the trailing edge of winter, pale light led me
To the cut, where alder and bowed willow stand
Reflected in the greys and browns of long waiting,
While winter burdened boats slack at their ropes.
In childhood days my father’s boat was tethered here,
Firm to the rusty ring upon the quay
And I still see her fine hull cut the water,
As she bestowed the grace of sail upon our lives.
The calms and storms, the fair and foul winds weathered her,
Tugged at the sheets and planks of our togetherness,
But now the ring is empty and as cold as winter,
Devoid...
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