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Country blues


Country blues

The cold bit early this year
Blue hands declined to chop logs
The wood fell and made blue bruises on her legs
She didn't cry. She stared
At the cold blue sky.

She had always scorned soft townies
With their centrally heated lives
Still chose, in old age, winter's nip
Summer's sting, a grim arthritic hobble
To the henhouse.  Still denied
The supermarket's sanitised siren song.

Patricia Green

About this poem

Every year, Poetry on Loan runs a poetry competition, free to enter for anyone living, working or studying in the West Midlands. 

This year, the judging was very difficult, with stiff competition among the shortlisted entries. But the winner is Country blues, by Patricia Green. Patricia says:

I have been writing poetry since the first year of junior school when my teacher made a huge fuss over the fact I could actually scan!  I have had a collection published by the poetry foundation as well as individual poems in anthologies.
I live in Shrewsbury with my husband and a series of rather spoilt cats.