Patrick Ladbrooke

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Best Poem of Patrick Ladbrooke

Rush Hour

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.

A fawn stands in the road
Pristine with a natural beauty
Perfect, save for broken leg,
shivering at the inevitability of its life
Leaving passing scars of sadness.

On the journey home,
Queued traffic crawls on past the spot
And those who wondered sadly
Seek the confirmation of a corpse.

Read the full of Rush Hour


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.