{"id":4322,"date":"2014-12-07T23:19:12","date_gmt":"2014-12-07T23:19:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322"},"modified":"2014-12-07T23:22:50","modified_gmt":"2014-12-07T23:22:50","slug":"three-poems-8","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322","title":{"rendered":"Three Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><i><strong>Kingdom<\/strong><\/i><\/p>\n<p>When the kingdom<br \/>\nfalls apart the turning leaves<br \/>\nwill perform acrobatics,<\/p>\n<p>when the kingdom<br \/>\nfalls apart it will resemble a fancy<br \/>\ndress party with skeletons and ghosts.<\/p>\n<p>When the kingdom falls<br \/>\napart it will be on a Wednesday<br \/>\nmorning, heavy rain,<\/p>\n<p>thick white cloud and a light<br \/>\nthat is particular<br \/>\nto the time of year.<\/p>\n<p>When the kingdom<br \/>\nfalls apart we will have<br \/>\nto find a way to start again,<\/p>\n<p>when the bough breaks<br \/>\nand the earth<br \/>\nstarts to shake,<\/p>\n<p>a way to turn<br \/>\neach other into strangers,<br \/>\nwhen the kingdom falls.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><br \/>\n<i><strong>Oracle<\/strong><\/i><\/p>\n<p>The weather vane and the cold pillow,<br \/>\nthe storm will land a knockout blow.<\/p>\n<p>The storm will land on telegraph poles,<br \/>\nthe storm will land on the lighthouse, coastal defences,<br \/>\nthe storm will land on the town hall.<\/p>\n<p>At three a.m. the dog across the road will panic,<br \/>\nthe storm will land in the middle of the night<br \/>\nin its own sweet time and stereophonic.<\/p>\n<p>The storm will land on archaeological finds,<br \/>\nthe storm will land on the night bus and the homeless,<br \/>\nthe storm will land and drench the playgrounds.<\/p>\n<p>By dawn trees and roofs will have been devoured,<br \/>\nthe storm will land on train stations,<br \/>\nleave them with blank departure boards.<\/p>\n<p>The storm will land on building sites,<br \/>\nthe storm will land on bridges and steeples,<br \/>\nthe storm will land and interrogate with all its might.<\/p>\n<p>In the evening there will be casualties,<br \/>\ninternet reports will establish the numbers,<br \/>\nthe storm will be gone and we will assess the debris.<\/p>\n<p>The weather vane and the cold pillow,<br \/>\nthe storm will land a knockout blow.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<br \/>\n<!--nextpage--><br \/>\n<i><strong>Girl with Birds Inside Her<\/strong><\/i><\/p>\n<p>After an animated drawing by Rachel Goodyear<\/p>\n<p>What I cannot say is flutter.<br \/>\nThis sparrow, this starling, this blackbird, this wren<br \/>\nhave swiped my mouth. I don\u2019t know if I am spitting<br \/>\nthem out or if they are leaving of their own accord,<br \/>\nthey are obviously scribbles, more than likely flirting<br \/>\nwith ideas of take-off and being airborne,<br \/>\neach day their dawn chorus wakes me in discord.<\/p>\n<p>What I cannot say is twitter<br \/>\nas I regurgitate and try to recall<br \/>\nhow, when and where I swallowed them; perhaps they swooped<br \/>\ninside as I slept and perched in my ribcage,<br \/>\nseparated from their flocks, then panicked<br \/>\nand made nests in there like bricolage,<br \/>\neach one makes a steady exit, there is no recoil.<\/p>\n<p>What I cannot say is song<br \/>\nalthough my expression recalls a vocalist<br \/>\nin the middle of a soulful display.<br \/>\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye,<br \/>\nsomeone fetch me an occultist<br \/>\nbecause life has gone horribly wrong,<br \/>\nfeathered friends, with each loss part of me dies.<\/p>\n<p>What I cannot say is locked inside a bird\u2019s wing,<br \/>\nthe angle of attack, the spontaneity,<br \/>\nthe flap, its loneliness, a kind of fragility.<br \/>\nThis is a sparrow, this is a starling,<br \/>\nthis is a blackbird, this is a wren,<br \/>\nthere\u2019s no use in looking<br \/>\nand no telling when they will be gone.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Kingdom When the kingdom falls apart the turning leaves will perform acrobatics, when the kingdom falls apart it will resemble a fancy dress party with skeletons and ghosts. When the kingdom falls apart it will be on a Wednesday morning, heavy rain, thick white cloud and a light that is particular to the time of [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":20,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[312,315],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v20.2.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Three Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Three Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Kingdom When the kingdom falls apart the turning leaves will perform acrobatics, when the kingdom falls apart it will resemble a fancy dress party with skeletons and ghosts. When the kingdom falls apart it will be on a Wednesday morning, heavy rain, thick white cloud and a light that is particular to the time of [&hellip;]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2014-12-07T23:19:12+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2014-12-07T23:22:50+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Simon Haworth\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Simon Haworth\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"3 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322\",\"name\":\"Three Poems - The Manchester Review\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2014-12-07T23:19:12+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2014-12-07T23:22:50+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/f9441f089f34b8065446f319eecffd7f\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=4322\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/\",\"name\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"description\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/f9441f089f34b8065446f319eecffd7f\",\"name\":\"Simon Haworth\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"caption\":\"Simon Haworth\"},\"description\":\"Simon Haworth is a Manchester based poet where he helps to run the poetry reading series Poets and Players. 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