Monthly poem - September 2020


The wind beating the leaves to a crazy froth
and the wasps living inside the greengages
and bruised plums like hungry feeders
inside a warm mattress.

And the sunlight on the carpet
so faded, its reds and blues
and the paint coming off the front door
the resin bubbling through in small scabs.

In Russia there is a white room
with a white wooden panelled ceiling
and wallpaper that looks varnished with age
and a white window behind a white lace curtain.

I could write in this room
hearing the thud of apples falling
in Pasternak’s orchard;
feel the frozen tears of Tsvetayeva on my knuckles.

But lay me down here
besides the geraniums, scarlet on brick
and the sweet greengages
like melting treasure in the yellow basket.


Jehane Markham

Photo of Jehane Markham by Heini Schneebeli

Jehane Markham is a true poet...
her poems glow like impressionist paintings.

Adrian Mitchell

Love wells up out of Jehane Markham's work... it made me cry.
Gillian Allnutt

To contact
Jehane Markham
please email

For CV click on link

house image

Norfolk house: Mary MacCarthy

Stop press

Jehane Markham & Donald Gardner
Postponed till Autumn


16 Sunsets


Click to see review of Sixteen Sunsets
Now available on Spotify


Adio poem below the waterline

Listen and see:

poem on Twitter


New Audio poem:

Above and Below The Water Line
Click to link to listen