Apparently anything can be poetry, so it seems safe to say this is

So it’s important and you ought to look at it seriously. OK, I’m being ironic: putting something boring, uninspired, mannered or prancingly self-indulgent in short lines in a nice shape and calling it poetry and art doesn’t make it any more worthy of attention than anything else anyone writes or says.   Still, you might [...]

I think these things are poems, though there’s a bit of damage and they’re of no great age. Start me at £20, anyone?

On to re-posting more poems with comments and expolanations of a sort. Here goes: GLASS The glass creation on the shelf In the early morning light refracts, transmutes The arriving light into changing colours and links That fade and reform with the slightest of gentle shifts. If you try to see through it the waving [...]

The Herald of Free Enterprise

THE HERALD OF FREE ENTERPRISE On 6 March 1987 the car ferry “Herald of Free Enterprise”, owned by Townsend Thoresen (later P&O) capsized outside the Belgian port of Zeebrugge, causing 193 deaths. A number of safety measures that would have prevented the disaster had not been taken because they were seen as low priority or [...]

Gloomy. Obscure. Negative. Vague. This sounds good…

I’m carrying on commenting on some poems I’ve already posted. They aren’t necessarily the best in my opinion, as some poems seem to me to be fairly obvious in their meaning and technique, and they could just possibly be good. The first one here, though, seems to me to be one of my best. UNDERWATER [...]

Instead of poetry, I thought I’d talk about wheelchairs, and quarries, and Halloween masks, and ponds, and knights in armour, and wheelbarrows and rainstorms…

While poetry can be a subject, as in the academic study of poetry, it’s really a mode of communication that can be about anything. In the 18th century the opinion grew in Western Europe that there were subjects and words unsuitable for poetry, which should be genteel and uplifting. Uplifting maybe – via the depths [...]

Nightingale Remembered

  “Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird, No hungry generations tread thee down” But nightingales are begotten, born and die Living a lifespan lesser than a dog.   I sing back not to the immortal song But to the bird that might not last the summer.   Though fumbling in the enveloping folds [...]

If we deconstruct these poems, we can put all the letters in a different order!

OK, I know “deconstruct” doesn’t quite mean that, but it has a chilling, dehumanising sound. I don’t want to dehumanise my poems, though maybe throughhumanise them. Here’s some more with comment. DIGGING DOWN I have found an old guilt: By scrabbling in the dirt with callused hands Brushing away the low lying deposits Stories of [...]

Selected Poems of Simon Banks

(Well, about half my poems don’t make it on to the word file. They may survive in a handwritten notebook, or they may have been scrawled on a piece of paper and then I don’t rate them. From the word file a selection gets posted here – and from that, some which most seem to [...]

Wall

  When the grey seas beat down on this low wall Remember us who built it high and died We knew the fish of the sea, we knew the soaring falcon, We tasted bread and wine and love and loss.   This isn’t any one particular wall, but I’ve encountered many places that would fit. [...]

Well, among the multitude of possible interpretations of these obscure poems, these will do as well as any

and gain a modicum of credibility from originating with the writer.   So here goes with some more old poems.   TOMORROW   After a month of night, a reddish moon Illuminates a new world, smoothes The slivers of metal, softens the swathes Of jagged concrete to A pebble beach. The clumps of bodies become [...]

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