Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Hanging on stems    at the top of the tree    green mangoes
The monkey lifts his tail    to tell the birds
Two young girls    out for an evening stroll    with designer faces
He’s mine! She’s yours.    That one? - nowhere near
You’re warm!    What goes with ‘spoon’?    on summer nights
Jack and Jill, ladle and knife;    the fiddler’s dish is clean

An old jazzman    with clarinet, against the wall    the wind’s good.
Go little ship,    and bring again my love to me
A Norway holiday    tramping all night the saeta    to find the hut
We call it ‘The Hermitry’    for seekers of both sexes
Around the hills at the foot of the mountains a thousand shades of green
Bare trees crackle    in the pale blue sky

A splendid crux!    Crabbed indeed, but    beautiful in the Greek
Dear boy once I followed    through criss-cross moonlit streets
Disappearing    into a shop doorway -     No cat!
A whiskery old dog    caught with a new trick
His Honour    has set in glass before him    two roses
Fine needles,    each on its own pin-cushion
The aids team    gets through at last    with complement of angels
Shouldn’t we not rule it out    that Blossom is not one of us?
A Mind like    a computer?    Gerron! - we’re partners
No sleaze, no sex, no -    I won’t say no to that
Cheers, a roar -    the crowd approves    a golden send-off

Friends drop in    we take life easy now
After the gales    soggy with leaves    from our neighbours
Three birch    all that’s left
Country wine    just as good to those    who take the trouble
Candles, flowers, and silver    glasses raised in the dark hall
The moon’s not seen    but a shadow slants across    the window sill
Goodbye at the entrance gate    she didn’t look back

Poor thing!    Henry, give her a hand    with her luggage
A large plaster gnome -    We’ll have to look inside, sir
Now a front to    zap the street: I fancy    emerald and puce
Each ring has its colours -    I wonder if they notice
The gardener sees    the thirty years it took    to make a rose
Sketching from Nature?   not passé - it’s antique!