Public Poetry

Regular readers of this blog will know I normally write about writing rather than posting the writing itself. This is because publishers won’t normally accept writing that’s available online, especially free of charge.

But on my tour of the Millennium bridges, discussed last week, I took a little time to write clerihews at each stop. They were so situation-specific that there wasn’t any point in keeping them for a publisher, so here they are in full.

Gateshead,
I visited you instead
of fussing
over your green-arched cousin.

Stockton-on-Tees:
your pointed geometry
pointed the way
to a new century.

York
had the longest walk,
and some robust
gusts.

London,
there are none
who match the sheer span
that you can.

Salford
you rise like a bird,
free
from the quay.

Lancaster
there’s no faster,
way to cross the Lune
on a January afternoon.

Glasgow:
I’m sure the traffic will still flow
over and under, come
the next millennium.

Separately, here’s one I wrote at a popular chain restaurant yesternight.

Monday at the Beefeater

Half-past five, half-past January,
in a half-full restaurant,
kids eat half-portions
as dads drink half-pints.
I half-think I see someone
half-inching a glass.