Wednesday, 9 April 2014

Driving to Nottingham in an Old Car After Reading Gerard Manley Hopkins

Loud sound, throats roar, across the gear shifts grate,
Light dazzling, flitting brightness tiring eyes:
Expanse of grey  in front;  three tracks straight
Spinning  beneath black blurred and gripping tyres.
Swishing, silver, screeching, mile chewing
Machine whose fuel combusting business is
My means of movement while sitting viewing:
Hawthorne hedgerows  green-downed, sloe blossom's whizz
White patches, snatches, glimpsed against the sky
Swirled whorls of flake white, lead white, wisps of cloud,
Conglomerating here and there to try
And blanket out the blue and yet this crowd
Shan't triumph as the sun shines so well
And the sulphur rapeseed shouts back its own yell,
Yellowly blazing, brazening it out,
Brash, harsh, course, beyond glaring garishness;
English April glowing neon all about,
Cumulus conspiracy - churlishness.
Hummock hills where pigs' arks curve, steel roofed
Corrugations  among undulations;
Pigs in flabby, pale pink skin, weather proofed,
Rootling, snuffling, snouting congregations
And frolicksome, joyful, jubilantly
Jumping, lamb like, gambolling, piglet gangs
Glad-heartedly, unruminatingly,
Delight in playing; where the willow hangs.

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