stdClass Object
(
    [ID] => 20011
    [post_author] => 23
    [post_date] => 2019-05-10 12:09:21
    [post_date_gmt] => 2019-05-10 12:09:21
    [post_content] => A Golden Shovel after ‘Fern Hill’ by Dylan Thomas

Funny how the spring rain unscrews the time
sending the clouds scattered ahead that had been held
fixed like memory for months, nowhere for me
to look; now branches drip overhead, fat and green
droplets like crystal earrings glittering and
singing on tarmac like there’s no word for dying

and weekends I walk up hills in the rain, though
with no destination in mind; maybe it’s because I
began to think the wind and the rain almost sang
from that slant, and maybe there’s comfort in
spending time like coins rolling into the gutter and my
heart is distracted by splashing wheels, bicycle chains
and wondering how I might gather weeds and drift like
a shopping trolley roaming the murky green of the
river, until past the car-park we get to the sea
    [post_title] => Hilly City Ode
    [post_excerpt] => 
    [post_status] => publish
    [comment_status] => closed
    [ping_status] => closed
    [post_password] => 
    [post_name] => hilly-city-ode
    [to_ping] => 
    [pinged] => 
    [post_modified] => 2019-09-04 15:23:44
    [post_modified_gmt] => 2019-09-04 15:23:44
    [post_content_filtered] => 
    [post_parent] => 0
    [guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=20011
    [menu_order] => 0
    [post_type] => poems
    [post_mime_type] => 
    [comment_count] => 0
    [filter] => raw
    [meta_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [wpcf-published-in] => 
            [wpcf-date-published] => 2019
            [wpcf-summary-description] => This poem is commended in the Golden Shovel challenge on Young Poets Network (YPN), judged by Peter Kahn.

A Golden Shovel poem uses a phrase from a pre-existing text to make up the end-words for each of its lines. Find out more about the Golden Shovel form here.
            [wpcf-rights-information] => 
            [wpcf-poem-award] => Commended, Golden Shovel challenge
            [wpcf_pr_belongs] => 
        )

    [poet_data] => stdClass Object
        (
            [ID] => 19561
            [forename] => 
            [surname] => 
            [title] => William Snelling
            [slug] => william-snelling
            [content] => William is commended in the 2019 poetry translation challenge with Modern Poetry in Translation, judged by Clare Pollard. He is also the third-prize winner of the 2018 August Challenge #1 on prose poems on Young Poets Network and is commended in the Golden Shovel challenge, judged by Peter Kahn.
        )

)
stdClass Object
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    [ID] => 19561
    [forename] => 
    [surname] => 
    [title] => William Snelling
    [slug] => william-snelling
    [content] => William is commended in the 2019 poetry translation challenge with Modern Poetry in Translation, judged by Clare Pollard. He is also the third-prize winner of the 2018 August Challenge #1 on prose poems on Young Poets Network and is commended in the Golden Shovel challenge, judged by Peter Kahn.
)

Hilly City Ode

William Snelling

A Golden Shovel after ‘Fern Hill’ by Dylan Thomas

Funny how the spring rain unscrews the time
sending the clouds scattered ahead that had been held
fixed like memory for months, nowhere for me
to look; now branches drip overhead, fat and green
droplets like crystal earrings glittering and
singing on tarmac like there’s no word for dying

and weekends I walk up hills in the rain, though
with no destination in mind; maybe it’s because I
began to think the wind and the rain almost sang
from that slant, and maybe there’s comfort in
spending time like coins rolling into the gutter and my
heart is distracted by splashing wheels, bicycle chains
and wondering how I might gather weeds and drift like
a shopping trolley roaming the murky green of the
river, until past the car-park we get to the sea