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  • A Welcome in the Flatlands

    i.m. Ken Mok

    I felt the warm earth of England
    on scraggly grass between paths on a council estate.
    You felt it too –

    but now it’s too late. Last April,
    in the undulations of Forest Rec
    how would we find you in Nottingham,
    a turn of the century grey brick ziggurat
    or in early morning winter sun behind the UEA lake
    you were the only one up to photograph?

    I felt the warm earth of England;
    you knew our welcome room to room
    on Waveney corridor, but not so much in pubs
    where you felt they saw ‘just another immigrant’.

    I felt the warm earth of England
    barefoot by the river, but now
    what is this fast-flowing current
    no-one signed up for,
    an ever-rolling stream become rapid
    to stop the heart on a football pitch.

    I felt the warm earth,
    but you were a man who bore burdens,
    sole breadwinner six thousand miles from home
    with bright and lively lads alone in loss.

    Who were the teams and why did the heart stop?
    A football pitch in Birmingham,
    too many questions…

    What happens to the dead in Wolverhampton,
    those diamonds –
    will there be a heavenly midlands

    in the upper reaches, not Asphodel Fields,
    where people of substance rest in glory
    or does the body simply shift its energy
    to multifarious particles’ resting places
    in the earth? In other words,
    we’re out of ideas at the end of the road
    and what’s left to say doesn’t bear mentioning
    or dissolves into cliché.

    I felt the warm earth:
    you heard it in the sounds
    of Neil Hannon’s Summerhouse,
    Passage over Piedmont, Eye of a Needle.
    Now no autumn tour to hear
    ‘Why did you have to die, Achilles?’
    and we wonder the same
    when the words of a text from New Cross Hospital –
    ‘he passed away’ – confirms an end
    in English euphemism
    but we’re told to be strong against the clichés,
    praise ‘muscular’, unsentimental
    stoic footsteps for no apparent reason,
    but what can we do
    but take the clichés and the footsteps on?

    I felt the warm earth of England
    in your membership of English Heritage
    and the hope of your 10 year-old’s questions:
    are conservatives really libertarian?

    Is a social democracy the ideal form of government?
    And what are your interests?
    ‘The two world wars and the history of colonialism.’

    I felt the warm earth of England
    and hope you felt it too in more than fragments.
    You make it warmer by your presence.

    August 22, 2025

  • Poetry Sampler (Short)

    Please note ‘Accessibility View’ (3 dots top right once the link is accessed) is the correct format for this little word/image collage thing:

    https://sway.cloud.microsoft/q2VxTltad3mSkWuI?ref=Link&loc=play

    Contents

    Under the Radio (extract)
    Winta’s Island
    Away from Imber Court (extract)
    Palace Sunrise (extract)
    North Sea Island Pitches
    St Patrick’s Stream (extract)
    A Welcome in the Flatlands (extract)
    Angels of Wallasey (extract)

    June 9, 2026

  • Crossflow Winds

    For some reason, this poem has rumbled on since it first appeared in 2015. It recalls going to Brentford in 1989, on a very windy day, to see Fulham lose (though neither clubs are really mentioned). On top of one of the stands ‘Next Time Fly KLM’ was written in huge letters so as to be easily seen by people on the Heathrow flight path. The ball was usually up in the air too, as were we on the Chiswick flyover, along with the citizens of Brentford in the many tower blocks surrounding the ground. As was the case with the ball, not many people were ‘on the floor’ and if they were, they were buffeted around by gale force winds. As the response to this has been quite strong, it is now listed as being among the top 100 of over 18000 football poems archived by the British Library. If you read it by clicking the link below and are minded to register your own nod of mild approval by clicking the ‘heart’ icon, the poem may be buoyed up yet further in its unexpected ongoing passage over Chiswick — and that would be appreciated.

    Crossflow Winds | Football Poets

    The irony is that I wrote a poem about exactly this type of potentially shallow-minded and misguided futility.

    London Grip New Poetry #57 – Autumn 2025 – londongrip.co.uk

    June 4, 2026

  • Just Burial: Reading

    May 8, 2026

  • Leaf Blowers

    See the leaf blowers by the Cornerstone:
    leaves and dust, a brief step back
    as if new combinations of air and sound
    were a threat to the slow-paced man
    in thin black jacket and white canvas cap.
    See the sign language rumination
    through ironies of dust blown from a cemetery
    to a leaf blower in a cocoon of sound
    conversing only through movement
    each passer-by thinks they understand.

    February 18, 2026

  • It Kicked in at Mytchett

    In a scuffle in the viewing gallery
    of a regional netball game in Southampton,
    whatever this temporal fug now is,
    it kicked in at Mytchett.

    At a standstill by the Basingstoke Canal
    at Rushmoor parkrun, the slowing down of time
    and will to survive kicked in at Mytchett.

    Have you seen the price of a coffee
    at Sutton Scotney – this ennui
    over a latte at the cost of a pint
    kicked in at Mytchett

    and through Yateley and Little Sandhurst
    I was transformed again
    by the renewing of the mind

    only to board the Cross Country railway.
    Wandering around Stoke Minster
    after a football away day
    and on to Planet Bollywood
    disorder returned; I couldn’t resist it
    emerging from a compost of faults –
    it kicked in at Mytchett.

    February 18, 2026
    Hampshire, Mytchett, parkrun, poem, Something starting, Stoke, Surrey, Surrey Heath

  • The Halfway Line on the Other Side

    The Halfway Line on the Other Side
    December 20, 2025

  • Tuns Lane Parakeets

    I’m very grateful to Ian Chung for including two of my poems in Eunoia Review. This one is set in Slough and is inspired by glimpses of parakeets on grey and drizzly morning drives. There is still no consensus as to how they got here…

    Tuns Lane Parakeets | Eunoia Review

    Tuns Lane Parakeets

    November 20, 2025

  • Charing Cross

    Poem published by Eunoia Review

    Huge thanks to Ian Chung for including two poems in Eunoia Review. This one is set in the area around Charing Cross Hospital in Hammersmith.

    Charing Cross | Eunoia Review

    Charing Cross

    November 20, 2025
    Charing Cross, Fulham, Hammersmith, Poetry

  • I’ve Been Everywhere (A.S. UK Version)

    Eight years ago, I rewrote the lyrics to Johnny Cash’s ‘Wanted Man’ so that it was based in Brentford (https://footballpoets.org/poems/wanted-man-at-hounslow-central/). I have now written my own version of ‘I’ve Been Everywhere.’ Please don’t unsubscribe if not a Johnny Cash fan – once every 8 years only!

    I was totin’ my Wild Bean among the garages and tyre shacks of the A329
    when along came a lorry with a Man Utd badge, stars and bars
    and Teletubby strapped into the passenger’s side.
    He said ‘If you’re going to Theale or Thatcham lad, with me you can ride’
    I said ‘I’m not sure about the decor in here’
    but with a croissant and a sausage bap, I stepped inside.
    He asked me if I’d seen a road with so many MOT guys
    I said ‘Listen, I’ve travelled every road in this here land’

    I’ve been everywhere man
    I’ve been everywhere, man
    I’ve crossed the M3 bare times
    I’ve breathed the Midlands air, man
    Of travel I’ve had my share, man
    I’ve been everywhere

    I’ve been to Horsham, Hersham, Feltham, West Drayton
    Warfield, Twyford, Nettlebed, Remenham
    Swindon, Chippenham, Melksham, Studland
    Cowbridge, Stockport, Birkenhead, Loughborough
    Loudwater, Lightwater, Freshwater, Carlisle
    Skegness, Foulness, Southwold, Rye Harbour

    Penrith, Shoreditch, Tenby, Pontardawe
    Peterborough, Cross Hands, Kings Lynn, Market Harborough

    I’ve been everywhere man
    I’ve been everywhere, man
    I’ve crossed the M3 bare times
    I’ve breathed the Midlands air, man
    Of travel I’ve had my share, man
    I’ve been everywhere

    I’ve been to Cambridge, St Alban’s, Leicester, Shottesbrooke
    Stoke-on-Trent, Ammanford, Burnley, Blackpool
    Bere Island, Spike Island, Sheringham, Canvey Island
    Netley Abbey, Milton Abbey, Waltham Abbey, Blandford Forum
    Middle Green, Fulmer, Burnham, Langley Corner
    Jersey, Eastleigh, Dundee, Isles of Scilly

    Southend, Cane End, Touchen-end, Land’s End
    Stirling, Ipswich, Camberwell, Swansea

    I’ve been everywhere man
    I’ve been everywhere, man
    I’ve crossed the M3 bare times
    I’ve breathed the Midlands air, man
    Of travel I’ve had my share, man
    I’ve been everywhere

    I’ve been to Exmoor, Dartmoor, Burry Port, Pangbourne
    Didsbury, Wolverhampton, Solihull, Dronfield
    Burton, Bristol, Barnstaple, Chelmsford
    Winchester, Walsall, Solihull, Hemel Hempstead
    Liverpool, Sheffield, Southsea, Edinburgh
    Newbury, Builth Wells, Preston, Bridport

    Winchelsea, Bexhill, Dungeness, Hastings
    Roath Park, Hyde Park, Stanley Park, Jamaica Inn

    I’ve been everywhere man
    I’ve been everywhere, man
    I’ve crossed the M3 bare times
    I’ve been to Bolton six times
    I’ve breathed the Midlands air, man
    Of travel I’ve had my share, man
    I’ve been everywhere



    November 18, 2025
    adventure, life, nature, travel, writing

  • Obligatory Windmills by Ant Parker: 25th Anniversary.

    n.b. This is a reflection on the e.p. by Ant Parker and how it develops themes from his earlier work with the band Why?

    Obligatory Windmills is the e.p. that musician Ant Parker recorded not long after his influential folk band Why? released Happy, their excellent final album. In many ways the e.p. is an eloquent distillation of the band’s oeuvre, including Northern European night journeys over land and by ferry, reflections on faith within and beyond organised religion, and wordplay in abundance.

    Opener Walking the Street evokes the atmosphere of long distance travel outside holiday season, with the tone becoming gradually darker and more mysterious as the narrator moves east: ‘It won’t be long till we’re held captive by the darkness, but it won’t be long till we’re set free.’ We’re taken to Amsterdam, with a distinct note of caution in the voice, to Hanover and finally ‘Eastern Europe on the night ghost train to nowhere…we arrive before the sun on the horizon.‘ I’m sure I read an interview with Ant once in which he said if he wasn’t a songwriter he would be a poet – with these lines, we can easily see why: that beauty in the paradox of arriving nowhere, the endless cycle of the sun rising and setting. Journeys by boat and on land, for example through ‘many short Stena line nights’, ‘into Wells down the A39’, and ‘through the fog to LHR’, are recurring motifs in Ant’s writing and are particularly atmospheric on this song where the curiously unpopulated streets heighten the loneliness of the homesick touring musician or travelling worker. To me this is reminiscent of W.G. Sebald’s narrator in Vertigo who ‘had no alternative but to take the night express across the Brenner’ and who in the poem Please, as translated by Michael Hamburger, asks for the ‘brown overcoat from the Rhine Valley in which at one time I used to ramble by night.’ The ominous tone of the chord changes are complemented perfectly by a voice that blends anticipation with uncertainty as the night grows darker.

    Second song Hidden Power combines humour with serious reflection on what it means to look for signs of God beyond the confines of a church building, continuing a lyrical theme from Why? days, for example in the song Three Short Stories from the album Giggle: ‘It’s easy on a Sunday when you’re sitting with your church mates; sometimes I need to talk to God outside his business hours! ‘
    In Hidden Power, the line ‘I thought I saw you on the television: 3 in the morning on OU revision’ has to be one of my favourite lines from any song, the nocturnal setting established by Walking the Street is consolidated by the confusion of a baffling night time Maths or Physics lesson, managing also in its perfectly balanced rhythm to find a rich vein of nostalgia for a time of shared cultural experiences liberatingly limited by a narrow band of TV options.

    Ant Parker’s vision of what it means to be important is perhaps the central message of all Why? albums and this e.p. It was signposted in the liner notes of Rachel Says Boo, their first album, with the phrase ‘It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice’ featuring prominently. I would perhaps summarise their recurring message as ‘Everyone is equally important so please treat yourself with the respect you deserve and extend that to other people.’ In Hidden Power, we realise again that Ant is not someone who would doff his cap to somebody on the basis of social status, whether that’s underneath the ‘decrepit steeple’ of the church or in ‘public places’ where we see ‘the doctor with his rainbow braces.’ This is pure speculation, but I wonder if this sensibility is heightened by having lived in towns and villages in Somerset and Devon with relatively small populations; perhaps the perceived status and prestige of certain local figures becomes more pronounced and oppressive than it would in other places.

    The up-tempo family affair ‘It’s Probably True’ was written by Ant’s brother, the outstanding songwriter Nick Parker (http://nick-parker.co.uk), and includes a reference to their father, the amazing Neo-surrealist artist Norman Parker (https://np.01458.com). The ultra-inventive lines include ‘It’s probably true; I serve faster than Krajicek. It’s probably true; I cry ‘check’ before Kasparov.’ By mentioning so many people who are experts in their fields (‘I mow my lawn better than Titchmarsh’) the arrogance of anyone whose ‘ego’s gigantic just like the Atlantic‘ is skilfully exposed, but in a life affirming rather than a judgemental way. Obligatory Windmills is a critique of arbitrary pride and social convention; it heads north and east when others might go south, looks for the divine in odd places, destroys the ego through joy and finally, on Little Girl attacks the social pressures which confront children: ‘Caught up in…the moment, so-called friends will tell you it’s ok: but it’s not OK.’ Why? were always unafraid of being counter-cultural, using their platform to generate unbelievable amounts of fun, energy and lightheartedness, while also warning against the opposite ‘because the drug that you thought would lift you high drags you down…and you wish you could start your life again like a child.’

    The reflective tone and distilled wisdom of Little Girl is in a similar vein to the ballads Game of Life and Nil Score which closed Why? albums with extended reflections on the absurdity of life, along with some philosophical conclusions to draw upon in response. Perhaps they were the band’s unique versions of a blessing and commission at the end of a church service. For example, from Game of Life: Putting ‘somebody’ down on a triple word score, 7 i’s coming out of the bag. Today is today, yesterday’s gone, tomorrow we’ll start something new is an absolutely ingenious way to show us via Scrabble that sometimes things just don’t go your way, so move on: or perhaps that if you use ‘somebody’ for personal gain, the universe may mock you with the instant karma of replacement scrabble tiles which reveal your ‘me, me, me’ approach in all of its futility. Games condense life’s fortunes: ‘Every ladder we climb has a snake at the top waiting to bring us back down…’ but while enjoying life for yourself, remember to extend the pleasure to others: ‘Along the way take time to smell the flowers and send one up to those living in city towers.’

    Obligatory Windmills is testament to a brilliant songwriter and wordsmith, synthesising many of the themes presented throughout the 90’s by Why? I wonder if Ant will produce a follow-up over the next 25 years, or maybe a 50th anniversary double header with an additional disc, for example: Optional Turbines, Negotiable Hydroelectric Power Plants, Mandatory Biodiesel Coffee Grounds, Ethical Grounds for Hell: Smooth Roast, Slain in the spirit: buoyed up by Keema Naan, Premortal Crumpet, Interdimensional Waffle?

    October 25, 2025
    ant-parker, devon, folk-music, music, nick-parker, norman-parker, review, reviews, somerset

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