Forty.

A blade of grass.

You ask for a poem.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You say it is not good enough.
You ask for a poem.

I say this blade of grass will do.
It has dressed itself in frost,
It is more immediate
Than any image of my making.

You say it is not a poem,
It is a blade of grass and grass
Is not quite good enough.
I offer you a blade of grass.

You are indignant.
You say it is too easy to offer grass.
It is absurd.
Anyone can offer a blade of grass.

You ask for a poem.
And so I write you a tragedy about
How a blade of grass
Becomes more and more difficult to offer,

And about how as you grow older
A blade of grass
Becomes more difficult to accept.

Brian Patten.

War.

Workers and lights.

Weekend

The Remains of the Day.

Fun!

A Christmas Poem.

At Christmas little children sing and merry bells
jingle,
The cold winter air makes our hands and faces
tingle
And happy families go to the church and cheerily they
mingle
And the whole business is unbelievably dreadful, if
you're single.

Wendy Cope.

Navidad 2010.

Norias II.

London Blues.

Norias.

Otoño II.

Deporte otoñal.

Otoño en el Parque.

Spaniards.

Negocios.

Otoño.

Mariquita esperando por el bus.

Caracol.

Realidad.

Peña anti-plancha.

Incertidumbre.

Greedy London.

Tombstones.

Languages.