UKArchive

UKArchive ID: 36631

Field mice in my pocket
by savvi
Originally published on June 17, 2016 in Poetry        


Dark


Mother was too pale to cough black,
Father became the house,
a face of weathered granite
melded with the stones,
kept crooked by the constant wind
raging off the moors.

When I look to the fields
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns
his snakes hiss across the crops,
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.

I watch the walls at night,
my back to the flames,
creatures come to dance behind me.
He told me not to turn
so I watch a life of shadows
flying with the sun and rain,
straining to see the subtleties.

He's moving closer to the house,
I call the children in from the washing line
they've been out all day
flapping like larks on the breeze.
I hold them to my cheek smell their folded hair.

He's outside the window now,
I haven’t moved for days.
The house growls as the wind changes direction
and he's sitting at my table,
insects sprawling from his outstretched hands.

It only takes a touch.

I’m in the top field
listening for two travelers
as they cross the moors,
one is very weak so I tell him
he wont make the journey.

Then I move a little closer,
I know he can hear me.

© savvi (Savvi on OLD UKA)

UKArchive ID: 36631
Archived comments for Field mice in my pocket


sweetwater on 18-06-2016
Field mice in my pocket
Wow, I will keep on reading this, I have to admit I don't fully understand the meaning, but it is so full of depth, excitement and wonderfully written lines holding amazing images that I really don't need to understand it to know that I get completely immersed in your words. I adore the 4th line, so very clever. I have your Morning Mice printed out on my computer room wall. I think this will be joining it. Sue.

Author’s Reply:
Sue you are very kind, very happy you liked this one and the Morning mice, I don't do many love poems so that one is a bit special to me too. Best Keith x


Nemo on 19-06-2016
Field mice in my pocket
Keith, this is outstanding! Although I can't fathom out the inner logic in this, for me it generates a wonderful sense of place which is very Northern and primevally rugged. There are so many resonant lines; I think the best is 'I call the children in from the washing line

they've been out all day' or maybe 'The house growls as the wind changes direction.'

We need more people on this site reading quality poems like this. I'll nominate it.

Cheers, Gerald

Author’s Reply:
Many thanks Gerald I am humbled by your comments. I really appreciate the Nom and Nib


pdemitchell on 19-06-2016
Field mice in my pocket
I agree with Gerald about the washing-line children stanza. This is one of your best – full of dark brooding almost Gothic imagery. It should be nominated. Mitch

Author’s Reply:
Many thanks Mitch, very please you enjoyed this one. Best Keith


pdemitchell on 19-06-2016
Field mice in my pocket
I agree with Gerald about the washing-line children stanza. This is one of your best – full of dark brooding almost Gothic imagery. It should be nominated. Mitch

Author’s Reply: