Tag Archives: Geraldine Green poet

Geraldine Green: Two Poems

Geraldine Green’s first two collections The Skin (2003) and Passio (2006) were both published by Flarestack Publishing. She has read and been published in the United Kingdom, the United States, Italy and Greece. Her poetry has been translated into German and Romanian. Currently undertaking a PhD in Creative Writing Poetry, Geraldine teaches Creative Writing. She’s an associate editor of Poetry Bay and has just completed her third collection, The Other Side of the Bridge. She lives in Cumbria.
Linden trees do grow in Spain
She mentioned this to him
several times that day
in the grounds of the
Palace del Alhambra
its tiles hot underfoot
the day she noticed
the way his hair curled
the way bees filled the throat
of the courtyard
a thousand monks chanting
a thousand mantras
announcing morning.
She remembered his kiss
on the nape of her neck
the sting of it, the subtle,
sweet venom of his lips.
Last night candlelight
crimped the edge
of their table –
its plainsong of linen
its burnished cuticles
of lip-marked glass.
They’d held hands
worn the wrong shoes
stumbled down a track
sown with moonlight
milk-blue as cooling iron.
Cases already packed
their tickets pressed inside
a book of photographs
showed the Alhambra
showed the linden trees
escaping down slopes
where dawn would wake them.
Next year they’ll untangle
the sound of bees
find their steps
between fountains
taste the lost tremor
of their lips
the untamed hours
Last night the bobcat
I woke
wanting a piss
an owl hooted
once or twice
by our window.
I went out back
behind the rock
where the bobcat
first saw me
Look at that!
You said, awake too
almost making me
jump out my skin.
Describe it me, I said
back in bed wrapped
in covers and your body
nuzzling your neck.
Describe it me.
Small head, neat ears
fierce looking eyes
body slender, tail thick
haunches taut
ready to spring.

‘me and janine, vickers shipyard, barrow-in-furness, 1973’

Geraldine Green is a Cumbrian poet whose work has been anthologised in the United Kingdom, North America and Italy. As well as having two poetry collections published by Flarestack, The Skin (2002) and Passio (2006), her work has appeared in Tears in the Fence, Orbis, Seventh Quarry, Poetry Cornwall, Smoke, Rain Dog, Citizen 32, Neon Highway, Envoi and Obsessed with Pipework.
She’s read at diverse venues in the United Kingdom, North America, Greece and Italy, including the Bowery Poetry Club NYC, Wordsworth Trust Grasmere, International Women’s Arts Festival Kendal, Woody Guthrie Festival Oklahoma, Dylan Thomas Centre Swansea, Colony Café Woodstock, River to River Festival Beacon, NY, Poetry on the Lake Orta Italy, Apples and Snakes Kendal and Falmouth, Rooftop Celebrates! Skiathos Greece, Smalls Jazz Club and Cornelia Street Café, NYC, as well as Solfest Cumbria, Poetry in the Park Albany NY, Everyman Theatre Liverpool and the University of Connecticut, Branford House. She’s been lucky enough to have had her poetry backed at WoodyFest by the wonderful music of David Amram.
Currently completing a PhD in Creative Writing Poetry, Geraldine is Associate Editor of Poetry Bay magazine and Associate Editor (UK) of www.poetryvlog.com.
Find out more about her on poetry p f.
me and janine, vickers shipyard, barrow-in-furness, 1973
Geraldine Green
legs swinging and us licking ice creams on the sub dock
our platform shoes cool and wonderful and the men
whistling and shouting hey love, gi’e us a lick!
and when we turned and gave them you know a
sidelong look they laughed but me and janine we
knew they didn’t mean anything by it they were just
joshing so anyhow we sat there with our ice creams
trickling down the side of the cones golden and crisp
the flakes falling onto our mini skirts and we knew
we’d have to go back in soon but the day was warm
it was warm it was summer and we were seventeen
we looked good and we knew it and we loved it when
the sailors came in foreign submariners from argentina
israel the middle east and russia listening to their funny
accents and they came here to vickers to board their subs
and them other subs being built alongside our own ‘revenge’
and ‘resolution’ and them going on patrol in the baltic or
the pacific and me and janine dreaming of smuggling
ourselves on board to wake up in a foreign port
somewhere which was just about when the hooter
would go and we had to go back in to our dusty offices
on the sub dock with the sun blocked out and tippex and
pens and a deep pile of papers with typos to correct.