top of page

Geoffrey Winch



why not empty

the already half-emptied purse

further still?  – one could, of course,    


conduct frugality tests with

selected guests to fathom who is

likely to survive and who might go under    


so, for Santa Clause

a cup of water and a mince pie

sprinkled with sugar-snow  


for John Cowper Powys

a cup of tea,  two raw eggs

and a slice of bread (butter thinly spread)    


for Judas Iscariot a splash of wine

laced with blood, a crumb of bread  

and a purse emptied on the floor –    


hopeful of being fed helpful hints about

how to be penny-pinching but not

penny-wise, the host receives instead


multi-grains of generosity; seeds of

a sound philosophy, and a grown-up reason

for accepting responsibility for one’s actions

Geoffrey Winch was born and raised in Reading, Berkshire in 1943.  Since his poetry first appeared in small press magazines in 1992 he has become widely published both in the UK and USA as well as online. Some of his recent poems have been published in Under the Radar; Ink, Sweat and Tears; Agenda (supplement); Sarasvati, South and South Bank Poetry in the UK; and Bright Star, Haibun Today and Atlas Poetica in the USA. He has been a selections co-editor for South, and in 2011 was ranked the UK’s best small press poet by Purple Patch magazine. He has published two poetry pamphlets: The Morning Light of Dusk (Feather Books, 2004), and Turns Along the Garden Path (Poetry Monthly Press, 2007); and three full collections: Letting the Road-Dust Settle (Indigo Dreams, 2010) which coincided with his final retirement from a career spanning 50 years that encompassed cartography, land surveying and highway engineering; Alchemy of Vision (Indigo Dreams, 2014) which focussed on his lifelong interest in the performing, visual and literary arts; and West Abutment Mirror Images (Original Plus, 2017). Since relocating to West Sussex in 2001 he has been involved with a number creative writing groups in the area for whom he also leads occasional workshops, and he is a regular reader at the Chichester Open Mic.



After we have searched the heavens

and, at last, discovered them – we have,  


after all, been conditioned to accept that

it is in our nature to hunt them down –


will we be fit enough to meet them, or

will we know in our hearts they might


consider that we’re too wanting (it could

be they’ve been watching us and judge


we’re not worth bothering with – so immature

and unkind).  And who will be the advocate


we choose to send to greet them.  Must there

be a battle between the followers of John Lennon


and those of the self-styled leader of the free world.  

Will there be a referendum: On the one hand who


will be prepared to approach them open-handed  

and, on the other, who will believe we must send


them tough messages in the shape of missiles,

blow them apart to prevent them penetrating


our security apparatus.  Will we be persuaded we

must destroy them (just in case they find us out,


discover our squalor, inequality and injustice –

our shame, the ghastly mess we made of things)  


or might we dare imagine that they live their

perfect  lives in peace, and they will come


to show us how to put things right, or will we

believe that they can be only dreaming.  

polemical poetry to prickle the politics of "permanent austerity"

Poor Doors
Sheriff Stars

thistles stretch their prickly arms afar

Black Triangle
bedroom tax
Disrupt and Upset
bedroom tax
Sheriff Stars

thistles stretch their prickly arms afar

Black Triangle
Disrupt and Upset

Militant Thistles

prickling the politics of "permanent austerity"

bottom of page