Thursday, 29 September 2016


New Book!





Republished in a new illustrated edition after 21 years.
A series of twenty-eight Shakespearean sonnets describing the human condition in terms of the workings of a motor car.
An owner’s workshop manual for servicing your life.






Sunday, 25 September 2016

My Canine Excuse


Walking the dog at night,
the realms of scent and sight
flow from this lamppost and your house.
There’s freshly-coded news to sniff,
and a curtain only partly-drawn
shows me your light-blue TV world.
Suddenly you look out –
we see each other
like photographers caught in each other’s picture.
A world opens on this moment,
so huge its power rushes down the leash and
tugs me to your door.


Stuart Larner


(first published Every Day Poets).


Sunday, 18 September 2016

first published, as a delicious meal of poetry on EveryDay Poets:


The Five Course Reunion 

i)
The melon crescents were served
Back to back like a frown.
When ours were collected afterwards 
They had been turned over into a smile.


ii)
The soup darkens as we stir,
Reds and greens arise then sink.
The stop and go of us these years.

Boundaries split, natures mix. Catch
Them in our spoons, rediscover
The recipe for what we were.


iii)
Choose a wing with me.
If they are from the same bird
It will fly again .
  

iv)
Let's halve this Emmental, you said,
Though in our hands at first
The cheese knife curved away

Nervous at slicing so deep into
Fermented joys we'd sealed up tight.
But then we saw ourselves,

Heart valves, moon craters,
Half-formed question marks,
Caverns echoing our answer.


v)
After so long you`ve opened it again
To seek some biscuit bits,
Edges smoothed in the jostling jar.

Once fresh with flavour at first snap,
Now old and soft and taking on
The crumbs of ones they`re kept with.

Like you and me, a match can`t now exactly be
Rejoined at where it broke, the art is to agree
Two pieces can taste about the same.



Stuart Larner

Sunday, 4 September 2016

This poem, originally published on Every Day Poets, takes its inspiration from a 1931 creative map (produced by artist Edward Bawden) which now hangs in Scarborough Library.



Looking at a Print of Scarborough

This picture reminds me of the smell
of seaweed in cliff gardens at low tide,
when sunshine felt like a warm new suit all over,
and the open-top bus ride tousled our hair.

On the beach, eating ice creams,
we stared deep into donkeys’ eyes
to see their souls, sure they sensed ours
in the quiet tide beneath everything.

Lying on our stomachs, watching the sea,
I kept you safe like the castle keeps safe
its bay with rocky shoulder and encircling arm.

I touch the glass that separates the print from me.
There’s a slim airspace between today and yesterday.
I know I can always reach you there.


Stuart Larner


Thursday, 25 August 2016

Another previously published poem.




Map Reading


“This is where we started from,” you say.
A feeble line, on uncertain ground,
Wispy as your hair once on my coat.

“This is where we think we went,” you say.
A wavering contour took us round
And back – though no higher, yet so close.

“This is where we meet again,” you say.
Looking for pointers is how we found
Each other, when thinking we were lost.


Stuart Larner


first published Kansas City Voices (Volume 10),2012

Tuesday, 9 August 2016

In acknowledgement of the Rio Olympics,
a poem reprinted from EDP magazine:

Pool Lifeguard

From my high chair I watch them
splash and kick, push and drift.
That’s how they measure progress here.

A passer-by might often think
my life is sunshades and casual cotton.
But swimmers know my legs
are bared for instant rescue.

My whistle halts their risky tricks:
I can save lives without moving,
but, surprised, they freeze as if I’d killed them.


Stuart Larner

Saturday, 30 July 2016



another poem reprinted from the 
Every Day Poets website


Invitation to the Dance

Our words drown in disco sound.
All week this beat had leaked
from loose earphones on rush-hour trains.
Tonight you fluoresce. In strobing light I see
parts of your self you’ve brought from home:
keepsakes from the past,
keys to the present,
charms for the future.
All piled here between us.
May I dance with you round the bag?


Stuart Larner