Best Mansfield Poems

We had industry once that the Tories refined,
A nice market and shops – but oh they’ve declined.

Our Mayor gives away shoes and his face to the papers,
Warsop baths and the towns lost bogs are paying his wages.

The paper wants us to write about our special...

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The barren ground bleached by the sacred sun
scantily clothed children and dogs run
Trees scarred by scavenged limbs
Burned in pyres as sunlight dims
Low water levels recorded on painted rocks 
Boats cannot reach out of water docks

I have seen he planet of the damned

The hardened earth refuses...

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Is this tree beautiful or what?
Her grandson did not see a tree.
All he saw was Jane Mansfield.

So she showed the picture to her son.
He did not see a tree either.
“Howard,” she said to her husband, “point out the tree.”
He asked her, “what tree?”

In desperation she...

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