A poem by Oliver Comins

Neglected...underrated...overlooked... all three terms might be clichés, but they could justifiably be applied to Oliver Comins' poetry in general and in particular to his first full collection, Oak Fish Island, which I reviewed on Rogue Strands a few months ago (see here). 

As a consequence, I'm making an exception today and posting (with Oliver's permission) one of my favourite poems from his book. This piece was first published in the London Magazine when it was under the stewardship of Alan Ross, one of the most renowned magazine editors around in the second half of the twentieth century, though the poem still resonates today. Football fans might well notice its relevance to current events at Coventry City, but its delicate observations, surefooted music and layered juxtapositions reach far beyond sport and should appeal to many readers...

Geese above Highfield Road

One of those moments when the stadium

falls inexplicably quiet – you hear

the crowd, as one, breathe in and wait

for someone else’s voice to prompt

the noise.  Geese flying overhead

disrupt the spell and players call

the roaring back – an amphitheatre

filled with sound, cauldron of light

beneath a darkened autumn sky.

Up there a flock of geese is set

on inland lakes, days of food and warmth.

Down here goals are barely threatened

by midfield stalemate: we dream

of wingers making for a corner

then cutting back to cross behind

a scattering defence – too much

to hope for now.  Disappearing geese,

I saw them flying in for winter.