Writer of Poetry, Screen Plays, Stage Plays & Fiction
Writer of Poetry, Screen Plays, Stage Plays & Fiction
‘The park is named for Captain George H. Tilly, a local son of a prominent family who was killed in action in the Philippines while serving in the Spanish-American War, and a monument to the war is prominent in the park.’ New York City Department of Parks & Recreation.
From the park’s Memorial Hill one can see
Manhattan, and the World Trade Center’s
Twin Towers. Below, this Labor Day
early evening, the benches round Goose Pond
are filled with families – Sikh, Jamaican,
Hispanic.
For Doreen Levin
He was on duty the night Liverpool burned.
They watched the orange glow over in the east.
He remembered the convoy earlier that day
strung out along the horizon, waiting
for high tide. The Lance Jack, Scouser One,
told them where it was. One of the Taffies said,
‘My brother’s there too’, leaving things unspoken.
In the silence Saul wondered if Tilbury
was being done as well, the bombs drifting,
as usual,
The TV presenter speaks of ‘sacrifice’.
She is al fresco on a purple sofa
with puce cushions. In the middle ground
are dignitaries, veterans, and a band.
Beyond are the War Graves Commission’s white ranks
of the British dead from Sword and Gold.
Only one speaker – beret, blazer, medals,
a RN signaller on a landing craft –
comes close to hinting that no one chose
to be a sacrifice. His speech is short,
even appropriately amusing,
I was Gratiano, Bassanio’s pal
in The Merchant of Venice. He ends the play
with an obscene pun. We were an ensemble
of drama teachers performing the piece
in English at Rüsselsheim’s Stadttheater,
the year after the Wall came down – so the pun
was probably lost somewhere in translation.
We were a couple of hours from the border.
One of our group became ill. The doctor,
treating her in the hostel where we stayed,
thought at first she was an ‘Ossie’.
The prisoners were dispersed across the north,
being too numerous for one assize –
many had followers, women and children:
a lost cause’s collateral damage.
An unrecorded number – of both rebels
and dependents – was held on the heath
a quarter of a mile due west of here
where I am researching and typing.
They wintered among the gorse and the heather.
Maybe there were tents, or perhaps bivouacs,
certainly for the guards.
For Alison and Georgia Robson
‘If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.’ Isaac Newton
The ancient pear tree next door has not been pruned,
I would guess, for at least seventy years,
long before our time here, or the neighbours’.
It is now as large as a medium-sized oak,
with the remains of a magpie’s nest.
Its fruit, in these last days of summer, glow
a ruddy green; are plentiful,
TOWARDS A DEFINITION
TOWARDS A DEFINITION
THE PLOT AGAINST THESE ISLANDS
THE PLOT AGAINST THESE ISLANDS
THE PLOT AGAINST THESE ISLANDS