Poetry Rivals 2016

Taking poetry from the page to the stage!

On Acton Field

Tiny snails, half hidden in the uncut grass,
A myriad pastel shades
Illuminate their slender, twisted shells.
How vulnerable are they!
As campers cut across to shower away
The dust and sweat of a hot summer’s day
On Acton Field.
How cruel the fates; two hearts entwine.
Was providence so drunk with wine,
Or was it just some foolish jest,
An evil fairy’s ill behest,
To bring together in one place
The ancient and the fair of face
And bind their hearts in perfect love
That fadeth not though, like a dove,
Each soars away to realms unknown
With no address or telephone
From Acton Field?
My heart, like mollusk, guarded by a shield,
Tempered by the years it would not yield,
Now stripped of all its armour on this field,
On Acton Field.

John Belcher