{"id":2171,"date":"2021-07-08T15:30:28","date_gmt":"2021-07-08T14:30:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/?p=2171"},"modified":"2023-11-12T11:40:18","modified_gmt":"2023-11-12T11:40:18","slug":"my-back-pages-the-north-field-1992","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/?p=2171","title":{"rendered":"The North Field: Thames Valley Texas"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"640\" height=\"480\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/Blackbird-on-White-Snow_1024x1024.jpg?resize=640%2C480&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2172\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/Blackbird-on-White-Snow_1024x1024.jpg?w=800&amp;ssl=1 800w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/Blackbird-on-White-Snow_1024x1024.jpg?resize=300%2C225&amp;ssl=1 300w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/Blackbird-on-White-Snow_1024x1024.jpg?resize=768%2C576&amp;ssl=1 768w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/07\/Blackbird-on-White-Snow_1024x1024.jpg?resize=676%2C507&amp;ssl=1 676w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>The North Field<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">You lying exhausted in another room, me taping,<br>trying to drag some of the past with me.<br>Three stories up in West London<br>I think of old friends, forgotten journeys<br>and the cracked ceiling reminds me of ice<br>and cars swish beyond the stained curtains.<br><br>You say I never talk, never explain things<br>clam-up, freeze-up, a tight-lipped Englishman.<br>You should have tried talking to my father<br>and his step-father, stood in a field mid-winter.<br>Tried catching a word as snow blurred the hills<br>and kept the rooks clinging to the high trees.<br><br>Cold as winter cattle, boots white with frost<br>they&#8217;d say nothing, just stamp chilblained feet<br>and whistle the dog back to the track they knew<br>lay under six inches of fresh snow.<br>Their maps were in their heads.<br>Now I clear mine and stumble on the edge of a new path.<br><br>Forgive me my sullen silences, my outbursts<br>at years of missed chances, frustrations, laziness.<br>Tonight there is no spate water froze across meadows,<br>no fields buried under six foot drifts,<br>yet I can feel the words tugging at me<br>wanting to arc a white half-acre<br>unleased.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-small-font-size wp-block-paragraph\"><br><br>Another poem from my back pages. London 1992. <br><br>From an overall collection called Landmine Poems 1992-1996<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/?cat=103\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/wp-content\/uploads\/2007\/08\/landm.jpg?resize=640%2C180&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-132\" width=\"640\" height=\"180\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The North Field You lying exhausted in another room, me taping,trying to drag some of the past with me.Three stories up in West LondonI think of old friends, forgotten journeysand the cracked ceiling reminds me of iceand cars swish beyond the stained curtains. You say I never talk, never explain thingsclam-up, freeze-up, a tight-lipped Englishman.You&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[103,100,34,33,106,91],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2171","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-landmine","category-my-back-pages","category-poem-a-day","category-poetry","category-new-poems","category-working-class-poetry"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6nhh-z1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2171","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2171"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2171\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2904,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2171\/revisions\/2904"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2171"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2171"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shaunbelcher.com\/writing\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2171"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}