#EnglishWriters
Come To Sunny Prestatyn Laughed the girl on the poster, Kneeling up on the sand In tautened white satin. Behind her, a hunk of coast, a
Coming up England by a different… For once, early in the cold new ye… We stopped, and, watching men with… Sprint down the platform to famili… ‘Why, Coventry!’ I exclaimed. ‘I…
Like the train’s beat Swift language flutters the lips Of the Polish airgirl in the corn… The swinging and narrowing sun Lights her eyelashes, shapes
Home is so sad. It stays as it wa… Shaped in the comfort of the last… As if to win them back. Instead,… Of anyone to please, it withers so… Having no heart to put aside the t…
At last you yielded up the album,… Once open, sent me distracted. Al… Matt and glossy on the thick black… Too much confectionery, too rich: I choke on such nutritious images.
The little lives of earth and form… Of finding food, and keeping warm, Are not like ours, and yet A kinship lingers nonetheless: We hanker for the homeliness
For nations vague as weed, For nomads among stones, Small—statured cross—faced tribes And cobble—close families In mill—towns on dark mornings
Groping back to bed after a piss I part thick curtains, and am star… The rapid clouds, the moon’s clean… Four o’clock: wedge-shadowed garde… Under a cavernous, a wind-picked s…
Those long uneven lines Standing as patiently As if they were stretched outside The Oval or Villa Park, The crowns of hats, the sun
Always too eager for the future, w… Pick up bad habits of expectancy. Something is always approaching; e… Till then we say, Watching from a bluff the tiny, cl…
When she came on, you couldn’t kee… Fighting your way up through the o… Tup—heavy bumpkin, you confused yo… Fell in the drum —how we went ha h… But once you gained her side and s…
I work all day, and get half-drunk… Waking at four to soundless dark,… In time the curtain-edges will gro… Till then I see what’s really alw… Unresting death, a whole day neare…
Next year we are to bring all the… For lack of money, and it is all r… Places they guarded, or kept order… We want the money for ourselves at… Instead of working. And this is a…
Light spreads darkly downwards fro… Clusters of lights over empty chai… That face each other, coloured dif… Through open doors, the dining—roo… A larger loneliness of knives and…
Lonely in Ireland, since it was n… Strangeness made sense. The salt… Insisting so on difference, made m… Once that was recognised, we were… Their draughty streets, end—on to…