A nib stabs words on a paper

only to find blood

But the poet was already buried

Love entombed forever....

Whose poppies are they?

Who will remember those who fell

In the fields of Papers

Now singing poppies?



Like Cleopatra’s Needle

Like the Needle let the whale spread its wings of fin

Take a dive into bluestone sea frozen

Let the shower of splash douse the Mayor’s den

For a plaque of the whale he may then sign      

                                                  -Yogesh Patel

There is no plaque erected for the Thames whale, the lost immigrant. Philip Hoare wrote a lovely piece in the Guardian about it. I too endorse the view.  

The following lines are from poet’s Swimming with Whales


  an old man said:

  in the good old days

  there were birds



  chanting sweet songs


  the children

  accustomed to warplanes

  stared at him

  with eyes wide, disbelieving

  then exploded:

  rogue! he is a liar!  

   Read on BBC Radio London

   From the Poet’s collection Bottled Ganges

-Yogesh Patel


Yogesh Patel