Tom Pickard (1946)
Biography of Tom Pickard
Tom Pickard Poems
there is something so familiar in what is said I stop and listen,
in paradise I was ordered to improvise
a mass of moth-eaten cloud threadbare and spun across a bullish moon
you gave me a white rose put the lamp on the stove it caught fire
When my lover became my enemy I made my bed amongst winds and drove the old road 'till my heart crashed.
Lark & Merlin
a wren, perched on a hawthorn low enough to skip the scalping winds,
at first they recce, easy, around the edge of breath
After a row
A lapwing somersaults spring flips over winter and back.
simplicity say sleep
When my lover became my enemy
I made my bed amongst winds
and drove the old road 'till my heart crashed.
Where's the bypass?
Washing my shirts, wringing them out.
Hung in the breeze.