• Unpublished Poems


Flying Home at Christmas

Flying home at Christmas ... 0 cloudy memory
Unroll your private film, yield up your fleeting echoes,
Those quick snatches of childhood joy and misery ...
Now see suburbia slip by, Tudor-and-russet-brick,
While after mediocre mile; past modern pub and group of shops
Out to the mild and smokeless air ringing the Airport.
Then watch the sun of saddle afternoon quicksilver the wing-tip.
(A dirty scrap of newspaper eddies: yesterday’s muddled headline lie.)
And now we rise, soon viewing below a child’s toy set -
Row on row of irregular, red-roof-tiled villas,
Each desirable residence with its patch of faded green
Like a played-over and scratched, billiard-table top.

Look down! look down!
(The blase traveller merely lights a cigarette)
At the smole-wound haze of London town!
Mist drifts like cotton wool, condenses on the pane;
But high above the clouds we view a foamy—coloured sea,
And look! - the horizon’s bloodshot, copper-red.
Then, feeding on present sights, old memories return,
Each jigsaw shape and colour to the eager traveller,
Who troubles like an excited child.

19 Jan
Linen Hall Library, "Greacen025", Northern Ireland Literary Archive, accessed Thu, 06/13/2024 - 18:05, https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/greacen025