Poems by Pete Cox
Pete Cox is the current resident poet at the John Clare Cottage. Pete, also know as "Cardinal Cox" has having his writings published in the small-press for around 30 years. These include reviews, articles and short stories.
Together with other members of Poets United, in Peterborough, he recorded poetry and letters from the First World War to accompany an exhibition at Peterborough Museum.Pete is working with the Cottage to develop poems inspired by the life, times and surroundings of John Clare.
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He Was
He was – and many more are like him now
Searching for a place of rest
As he had once followed plough
And gazed upon the thrush’s nest
So many more have held employ
Known the warmth of family joyHe left asylum to wander roads
Aiming for a home he knew
Still I see others bearing his load
And every month another new
Some wounded by the life we lead
Others feeling that they’ve been freedI know these should not be hidden
Imprisoned as though there’d been a crime
No one welcomes the madness unbidden
But these are witnesses to our time
For any land that cannot protect the weak
Has little good for us to speakCardinal Cox wrote this while Poet Laureate of Peterborough in 2003 and, unfortunately, feels it is still relevant today.
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At a Poet's Grave
Above is a sky that is still as blue
The church is plain but in love adorned
Outside, through time, one who is still mourned
And yet some fields remain that you once knewWith simple flowers that the children strew
Country churchyard beneath the blazing sun
Amongst the neat graves we have come for one
Beneath the stone lies but one part of youYour stone, on which thrush might smash a snail,
Your stone that says, “Poets are born not made”
Words live on even if dusty on shelfYour stone so weathered by rain and gale
For when your immortal soul is weighed
That is a life eternal for yourselfCardinal Cox wrote this during the period that he was Poet-in-Residence for the Broadway Cemetery in Peterborough (2005 – 2008).
Songbird in a Cage
Clare made a pet of a mimicking bird
He kept a starling in a wicker cage
Trained to repeat whistles and simple word
So the creature echoed back what it heard
Singing while he scratched upon a blank page
Clare made a pet of a mimicking bird
Outside the cottage a hungry cat purred
Number of worms and spiders John would gauge
Trained to repeat whistles and simple word
If released, oh how the wings would have blurred
Always a look in its black eye of rage
Clare made a pet of a mimicking bird
For every pair there is an unseen third
Together they’d recite as though on stage
Trained to repeat whistles and simple word
Those who ever enchain the free have erred
Would he recall this bird in his old age?
Clare made a pet of a mimicking bird
Trained to repeat whistles and simple word
Cardinal Cox wrote this poem as part of a cycle of verse to mark the 150th anniversary of Clare’s death in 2014.