Poetics, Found Poetry and Data Reanimation

Early to Bed

Early to bed
Pillow under head
Can’t sleep, so shout down
Keep on calling, but no reply
Then heavy steps on the tread
Dad’s home from work
Up he comes
Weary steps
The door opens
He is dark against the light
He tells me to go to sleep
He needs to eat
My eyes close, but I can still see his silhouette
Phosphenes in the dark
….eyes closed but in sight
Moving colours, floating, not set.
A scene replayed behind my eyes
…with sleepy bye-byes.

Lonely Soldier*

A slow Sunday afternoon
A mind meanders back
In front of the fire that glows
Memories of a chance meeting
Unplanned not requested
Time has passed, but a strong recall
….despite how fleeting
‘Take a ring from a lonely solider’ he said
‘I’m leaving today’
Placed in hand a remembrance token
A hope for connection softly spoken
I’ve no one else, nobody to recall
An evening train
One way, leave all
A remembered glimpse, please do not spurn.
Take a ring from a lonely soldier.

*My grandmother told a brief story about being approached at a railway station in the 1940s by someone who described themselves as a ‘lonely soldier’. He gave her a ring and was never seen again. It’s a story from my childhood that is both intriguing and haunting. So much that is unresolved, so many questions.

Motion True

The river was constant
Motion true
Movements of a blue hue
Not the usual sludge brown
Reflecting the sunlight
Sparkly white glints
Shine and shimmer
A downstream hint
Suggestions of the past
Look to the river
Humanity vast

Sorry for the distress and confusion
You died on 28/12/2025
But as far as I can reasonably tell
…I am still very much alive
An apparition?
Did I miss something?
No longer to thrive?
You were immediately resurrected
…reinstated to ‘active status’
Now (re)risen

An erroneous notification of my death
Still breathing and taking breath
We fully recognise that being incorrectly recorded as deceased
….is upsetting and unacceptable
We have taken steps as far as practicable
To reinforce our safeguards
And prevent a similar situation
…other early discards, and disregards
We are pleased you are well, not easily eradicable
…and grateful that your non-death was brought to our attention
Did we mention our apologies for any undue distress?
…and recognise initially could not have cared less
Mistakes made pre-injection
No eulogy, no confession.

A Tinker’s Mark

A secret sign unknown to the respectable
Unseen, unobserved, not visible
Known to many who sauntered, looking and searching
A house marked as hospitable
Shown the way to a host with nothing
…but who would give everything
Help others and atone, avoid purgatory
Do you have a cup of tea?
Or a slice and marge?
A nod in the affirmative
The white painted seat is away from the house
They would come and sit
Rest and drink
She would permit
Then a weary return to the grind and the mend
Travelling without end.

Homemade Clothes

She made me a nylon purple suit
… with anchors on the gold buttons
No fly, she couldnt do those.
Making clothes out of necessity
Shop-bought clothes disparity
Make do and mend
Repurpose and save
The life of cloth extends
With a nostalgia for paper patterns, 1970s trends

Homemade shirts with big collars
…but the cowboy print was upside down
Small strands of fine lint
The magic of a store-bought t-shirt
… a picture of a lion on white
Market stall fabrics she makes multiple dresses all alike
Like a housecoat, but…
Certainly not haute

He Sings In The Griffin

He sings songs in The Griffin
The Britannia and The Rose and Crown
Different for grandad to
working down a sewer

He sings proper songs
By the upright or all alone
A Lanza tribute – because you’re mine
In key and on time

Beer arrives in a jug
Dry-throated entertrainer
Baked pies and savouries
For the onlookers

A gryphon’s strength and courage?
A faux orphée singing songs for rounds of drinks
Grandma wouldn’t let him finish
Thinks more of regulars than his marriage
Time for home, Joe with a beer jug in tow

The Promise

The words of C Wright Mills reworked, this combination (c) John Goodwin, 2025

Uniform Multiform

I found the photograph in a time-bound album.
Blond wavy hair he had,
and a uniform, as he could not multiform
I couldn’t find the details of his birthday
nor a record of his death day.

They found that the pictures had gone, erased and forgotten.
Similar images can now be found online and
are easy to find. They are alike but different.

Many found the image transgressive.
The image was found to be distasteful.
Others find it striking if regressive.
[They] don’t want to hear about it anymore,
but the images shout disquieting questions:

An ode :
Why do ordinary people do terrible things?
Don’t all mothers weep?
What would you do?

But I’m only a cog in a bigger network of things,
A resonant link between then and now.

Best Bit of Love

Perhaps my paternal grandmother didn’t like me
Second born to her second born, but
A namesake of her first,
taken too soon by pyloric stenosis
John D. is not John M. but perhaps I came too close.

My maternal grandma loved me
Hugged me and gave me time and wisdom
Of food and joy, and of family
The floury fingers of bread for tea, foody treasures in the dark pantry.
A differently hard life for both….
but Alice loved me.

Poetics, Found Poetry and Data Reanimation

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