Linacre Woods in Summer

A follow-up to my winter Linacre Woods poem

Linacre Woods in Summer

Only the holly remembers the winter.
The rest slept, brown and drenched,
as frost and wind were kings
within these woods. Now they stretch,
reach out to brush and scratch my exposed skin.

Here, between the rigid trees, the sun
spotlights the path. Cow parsley crowns rise
high. Briars mock, rope-thick, dagger-sharp.
Behind, in the depths, the woods call.
Part of me is drawn there, to lie
in dark dampness. Become one with the earth.   

Tim Fellows Summer 2021

Image by Valiphotos from Pixabay

Gentleman

A found poem - that I tweaked and extended - in the comments section of YouTube below the video we made of Ian Parks' poems. The contributor is anonymous, as I don't think "Hugh Mungus" is their real name. 😀  

Gentleman

for Ian Parks

I often used to see him, walking
on Castle Hills. Always well dressed,
looked like he didn't belong here.

I even saw him down dog shit alley,
he didn't have any airs or graces

but seemed like he had another world
that developed and swirled in his head

and though

I am from the lowest class in this broken town
I love listening to his words.

I once said eyup to him, walking
with my soft but stocky looking Staffy.
 
He smiled and said hello back.
Absolute gentleman of a man.

Tim Fellows 2021 

with help from Hugh Mungus