Bob Mitchell
Between London, Exeter, Birmingham & Northampton
I always wondered
Who lives in that vast, undefinable area
When you go west from London
On the long-distance train.
You never see any towns, only
Irrelevant little places
Which might as well
Not be there.
Neither do you see people
In great numbers.
Only sheep, sheep &
Sheep, cows,
The occasional herd of
Puffins or some such bird.
If I was a foreigner
It’d worry me.
Where do they all
Live?
Perhaps the group of plastic frisians
Near the railway line at Rugby
Are the deities
Of a vanished race.
Page(s) 5
magazine list
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- 10th Muse
- 14
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- Ambit
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- Candelabrum
- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
- Coffee House, The
- Dream Catcher
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- Fabric
- Fire
- Floating Bear, The
- French Literary Review, The
- Frogmore Papers, The
- Global Tapestry
- Grosseteste Review
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- Interpreter's House, The
- Iota
- Journal, The
- Lamport Court
- London Magazine, The
- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
- Moodswing
- Neon Highway
- New Welsh Review
- North, The
- Oasis
- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
- Oxford Poetry
- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
- Poetry Review, The
- Poetry Salzburg Review
- Poetry Scotland
- Poetry Wales
- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
- Quarto
- Rain Dog
- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The