Poems written by John Marks

The Withering

The Withering elegy

Dried up, shrivelled, exposed, weather-beaten, This wasting away of the body afflicts with decay The hey-ho day of the day-to-day. Friends desert us quite, And no quenching ever pleases. What was is rubbed away, like stains that dry Wither, languish,

Above The Vaulted Sky

Above The Vaulted Sky elegy

1st July 1916   The roses of Picardy are blooming Red like the blood we will spill The sun shines onto the yellow wheat That drifts and flows in the summer breezes. We face the Saxons, brothers-in-arms, This quiet landscape will

Along The Unhallowed Way

Along The Unhallowed Way short poem

The man pushes the other man in a wheelchair Down a dreary Salford road, avoiding kerbs, talking Always talking, talking of nothing, talking of everything, What it takes and never gives back. The load. With wheels of fire and halos

Elegy

Elegy elegy

The red-gold heaven of stormy autumn leafy-misty lights this late October dawn recalling to me, curiously, the design hidden in words, swirls of the wood-smoke of ages time-ridden, missing things: a fleeting meeting with the past: something else that does

Lines

Lines short poem

Look at these lines – fishing for compliments – Hooked, they drag us back. Leave us squirming on the dry bank: Palpitating, bruised from the fight. Removing the pin from the mouth It’s a painful business. But worthwhile. Who’ll throw