Sally Goldsmith

1. Landscape

High on treeless, pylon planted moors –
two rows of black brick houses, bracken choked,
are slicked with slanting rain.

A lumpy oaten sky sucks at willows by a shed,
the seedy weeds in lines of veg, a sumpy path,
the top of Futters’ barn.

Across the swerve of tarmac road, a schoolyard
with its rusting swing, an empty chapel
and a battery farm.

Our terraces – long greasy roofs of lowering slates,
but window frames are bright with yellow, red and blue,
a painted peacock on a door;

the houses arsey versy – yards with privies
by the drive, best faces to the sweep
of peat bog, sedge and carr.

Inside, our queue of scruffs all wait in turn
for thin grey soup, a chunk of heavy bread,
and mugs of Barleycup;

some boilersuited – up for hours of cutting wood
and mucking out – others still in jim-jams –
just got up.

WILL PEOPLE PLEASE NOT… on a blackboard,
another full of rotas, receipts for stamps, coarse flour,
a pound of two inch screws.

Outside, four nannies tethered roughly on the green
view this world with sly and slotted eyes –
ruminate and chew.

(from ‘Days of the Commune’)

Sally started her writing life as a songwriter, her songs and poems having featured in award winning dramas and features for BBC Radio 4. She was a winner in the 2008 Poetry Business Pamphlet Competition, chosen by Michael Longley. She recently received a Hawthornden Fellowship to work on her first full length collection.

View Sally’s Poetry Business page here.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: