In Blenheim Park

A new poem by Kieron Winn.

Sign Up

Get the New Statesman's Morning Call email.

Shadows the shape of islands paraphrase

White racing clouds. Dragonflies dart and climb

In mail of lapis lazuli and lime,

While gardeners watch a heaped-up bonfire blaze,

Joggers raise dust on ancient public ways

And pheasants flee a tractor just in time.

Pointillist light-cells in the River Glyme

Dazzle then melt into the Great Lake’s glaze,

But the first Duke upon his victory column,

Though streaked by lumpen pigeons easily rising,

Surveys his fields and famous draughty Palace,

His fist upraised, hip jutting, camply solemn,

High above waving elms, as if despising

Nature with madly towering rabid malice.

Kieron Winn’s first collection of poetry, The Mortal Man, was published in 2015 by Howtown Press.

This article appears in the 08 February 2018 issue of the New Statesman, The new age of rivalry