Tom Pickard Poems
- In Paradise in paradise I was ordered to improvise
- Winter Migrants a mass of moth-eaten cloud threadbare and ...
- White Rose you gave me a white rose put the lamp on the ...
- Prologue When my lover became my enemy I made my bed ...
- Lark & Merlin a wren, perched on a hawthorn low enough to ...
- Anabatic at first they recce, easy, around the edge ...
- After a row A lapwing somersaults spring flips over winter ...
Tom Pickard (born 1946, Newcastle upon Tyne, England) is a poet, and documentary film maker who was an important initiator of the movement known as the British Poetry Revival. more »
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After a row
A lapwing somersaults spring
flips over winter and back.
After a fast walk up long hills, my limbs
the engine of thought, where burn
bubbles into beck and clough to gill,
beneath a sandstone cliff balanced on a bed of shale
and held from hurtling by Scots pine
that brush a scrubby sky with cloud snow scutters,
I found a place to sit
by snapping watta smacking rocks
and wondered — how would it be for you?
And so, alone,
un-alone even, in my anger,
bring you here.