Two poems by New Zealand poet Tim Jones

Tim Jones


Tim Jones is a poet and author of both science fiction and literary fiction who was awarded the NZSA Janet Frame Memorial Award for Literature in 2010. Tim was born in Cleethorpes, Lincolnshire and his family emigrated to New Zealand when he was 2 years old. Tim now lives in Wellington, New Zealand.

Tim's third poetry collection, Men Briefly Explained, was published in late 2011For more, see:

Tim's Amazon UK author page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tim-Jones/e/B004MGX7Z8/

Tim's blog: http://timjonesbooks.blogspot.com/


North



On Ilkley Moor


I parked me red


Ford Laser hatchback


and gazed to the north.


Rain and smoke stood over Wharfedale.




It was all in its appointed place:


stone houses and stone smiles in Ilkley


the wind on the bleak


insalubrious bracken.




I was waiting for memory


to make the scene complete:


some flat-vowelled voice out of childhood


snatches of Northern song.




For memory read TV:


Tha've broken tha poor Mother's heart.


It were only a bit of fun.


Bowl slower and hit bloody stumps.




Tha'll never amount to much, lad. In cloth cap and gaiters,


car forgotten, I pedal down the hill. Hurry oop


or tha'll be late for mill. Folk say


I've been seeing the young widow Cleghorn.


Well, now, fancy that.




In my invented character


I trail my falsified heritage


down the long, consoling streets.





Harbours




He settled


where the sea made a distant mirror



glimpsed from the sloping decks


of fast-subsiding houses.




Dockside cranes, the mournful tones


of cruise ships and coastal traders -




these were his background music,


his theme and variations.




From cliff-tops, from office blocks,


he would monitor departures,




courses set for distant harbours


rich with spice and contraband.




Retired, he had his garden,


books, the heavy ticking




of the farewell clock. He searched


tide tables, shipping movements,




looking for a sailing time,


a vessel heading home.