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Barry Tebb Short Poems

Famous Short Barry Tebb Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Barry Tebb. A collection of the all-time best Barry Tebb short poems


by Barry Tebb
 Too much gone wrong – 

No Muse, no song.



LAMENT  Create an image from this poem
by Barry Tebb
 How I loathe this land of my exile,

Concrete upon concrete,

Steel upon steel,

Glass upon glass

In massed battalions

And no way back.
My mind moves to a far-off place To a hill-top where the wind is my succour, Its blow and howl and rage Over the springing turf and heather Calms as the song of a mother And the last light’s glimmer.

by Barry Tebb
 I thought of my ‘faculty of poetry’

As of the eye

The bream or white-bait showed

In its hysterical dance of death

When the receding tide

Left it asleep

In a shallow pool on the shore.
Why did I fail to take it? Was I strangely compassionate Or merely afraid to touch The jerking spasm of flesh With the still eye? Or was it I on the shore In the shallow pool, left by the tide, Engaged in that mystic dance of death, Twenty years before?

by Barry Tebb
 Sorry, I almost forgot, but I don't think

Its worth the effort to become a Carcanet poet

With my mug-shot on art gloss paper

In your catalogue as big as Mont Blanc

Easier to imagine, as Benjamin Peret did,

A wind that would unscrew the mountain

Or stars like apricot tarts strolling

Aimlessly along the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

by Barry Tebb
 for Brenda



Both had come with no gardener but the soul;

I had myself expressed them in weariness,

Like the last drop of milk from your tired breast.
The red rose was no rose for me.
My black rose shone in a silver dawn In the throat of the wind.
On the tongue of the wind I taste your spirit; I will bear you on my toes To the roof of the world.



by Barry Tebb
 I sit inside the train of tears

The station mellow in shade

Unoriginal phrases air-brush the canvas.
Puzzling minds I wonder If all are like my own Closed to stillness.
From girders hang the acrobats of gone Pearl grey Whistlers.
We sat on A train like this once, you and I, Face to face but travelling In opposite directions- Or was it you alone I watched depart, Stood on the platform edge, anxious and alert?

by Barry Tebb
 I am waiting for the sky to flower

Like poems in a winter mind:

And yet they come, maybe trailing along

An urchin gang, sobbing and snotty-nosed.

by Barry Tebb
 I could bend and kiss them, everyone,

Strong and securing

As cunts are soft and beckoning.

by Barry Tebb
 Go seek Prince Charming in another place,

His is one face I shall not wear again

You would not have the stars for diadem.

by Barry Tebb
 Through the windows the sun’s light

Turns to amber, the moon’s to jade;

All night long I lie awake, wondering

How much your stunned heart can take.
That moment’s ‘sudden interminable splendour’, Our love kept up through the years of stress, Strange dark-haired creature, the light over the water Burns and beckons through our emptiness.

by Barry Tebb
 Even the charity shops boast of the surveillance

Mr Average is caught on camera a hundred times a day

To provide unending footage for reality TV

But in a decade where will we all be?

Big Brother’s eye will see our every step,

The blink of every eye, the tears we cry.

by Barry Tebb
 Yellow rapeseed

Fields of vision

Whiter than

A shade of pale.

WAKING  Create an image from this poem
by Barry Tebb
 Wires toss in the wind, shrubs flap

And the tap on windows wakes us

To March’s mistral madness:

I see white crocuses amid the rain.

by Barry Tebb
 I drowse and dream in this sleeping house

Fynbos the cat purring by the curtain

Suriya the sun god sharing the garden

Where joss sticks burn and my nostrils quiver

At the echo of Japanese songs, long ago.
In the breaking day I kiss your lips And taste the tongue of your waking shadow.

by Barry Tebb
 Your voice on the telephone

Hushes the storm in my heart

Lightning strikes twice

In the same place.
I cannot picture your face No photograph, no keepsake, No letters scented with your smile, No ring or marriage bed.
Your kisses were the best I ever had, my first, My only valentine.

by Barry Tebb
 Two nights I have dreamed of you

Once as an adolescent, evanescent

Yet tangible still to the spirit’s touch,

Then as a ten year old in the shared 

Secret garden of our imagination.

by Barry Tebb
 Sorry, Writer in Residence on the Great North Run

The last thing I’d ever do is listen to your spin

“You risk losing potential allies in your war

 against the philistines,

Astley, Armitage, Duffy, Sansom, unashamedly provincial,

Defiantly Un-Oxbridge, not the enemy!”



Sorry, Andy, arse-licking's not to my taste.
I always thought it wasn’t yours, my mistake!

by Barry Tebb
 for Brenda



Your blue dressing-gown

Lying on the chair back

Like a tired arm.

by Barry Tebb
 I sat on a low stone wall

Watching the blue blood of the azaleas

Spatter on Haworth’s cobbles.
A seamless transparency of rain Lowering over the turning trees My thoughts drifting to Claudel’s ‘Five Great Odes’, to the stone marker To the swathes of heather.
I stood on the moor top Where the tracks cross The fellside green The fellside ochre, Shifting reflections Of C?zanne’s last winter.

by Barry Tebb
 In sleep I dream the gratitude I know I cannot say

Now you are in a latitude where palm trees hold the sway

There are always things between us that keep getting in the way

And stop me from expressing the things I mean to say

In a night of wind and weathers love will not go away.

by Barry Tebb
 ‘Leeds welcomes you’ in flowers

Garlanding the white stuccoed tower 

Of City Station: red on green

As poetry’s demon seizes me,

Upending all ordures of order.
‘Haworth Moor, Haworth Moor’ Echoes and re-echoes under the Dark Arches Where the Aire gurgles and swirls In eddies of Jack the Ripper, cloud-hopping Jumping Jack Flash but Jack’s the lad I’m not My adolescent timidity gelding My desire for the welcoming heavy breasts And garlanded yielding vaginas.

by Barry Tebb
 Runs to no compass point

But starts within the human heart

Where travellers in twos may go

As for a while it winds beside

A man-made road then veers aside



We met at a cross-roads once and journeyed

Together for a while across a moor

And then on horseback sadly you waved adieu.