Haystacks with needle by Stephen Kingsnorth

Stephen Kingsnorth | March 5th, 2021 | poetry | No Comments


Even now I take a stand –
partly, eyes need resting space –
I will not watch the advert claims;
too busy putting kettle on.
And yet comes conversation lines
on razzamatazz, questions raised –
my weary answer, time again,
‘I didn’t see’, ‘I didn’t hear’,
remember I’m not advert-man.

Yet fifty past, in black and white,
my folks gave freedom – watch what want,
and so the weekend wrestling show –
my parents, saying ‘nonsense now’,
‘referee’s in on it‘, ‘fixed’, the like.
But front row women, brolly swing,
those boos, cries, cheers excited me;
I yelled at cheating, hidden, ref,
the gouging, scratching, breaking rules.

Giant Haystacks often won,
he carried weight, no man of straw!
When other needled, secret kick,
he bellowed, leapt up, landed, thump,
and often bounced – sure ribcage cracked?.
Adrenalin in living room,
screaming women, counting out;
another week, another round –
but now I’ll get my homework done.

Poet Bio

Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had pieces published by on-line poetry sites, including Poetry Potion, printed journals and anthologies. https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/

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