Prufrock

Category: Poetry

  • Poem: Riverbank

    RiverbankThe gate opens with a yawn,undisturbed, yet, by foghornsor the fixings of lovers’ locks.The sounds of muddy spades are yet to permeate the space betweenthe river and the rock, wherea seagull stands and contemplates St Pauls.What can we see—a Y-shaped stick,plenty of bricks,something which looks like a key.Are you a lifeboat, Sarah Lee?Have you ever…

  • Poem: Wine at Teatime

    Wine at Teatime ‘Another pot’ you order,for the tea’s gone cold, old, perhaps.You buy my wine,a bottle’s worth in glasses that flood my mouthlike water. I start you wonder if you’ve noticedwhen the waiter marches over and you take sugar in your tea and I sip wine while we dine on the last halves of…