Low-hanging fruit

101 short poems by Lindsay Camp

Find a poem

  • alphabetically
  • numerically
  • symbolically
  • haphazardly
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Find a poem

  • alphabetically
  • numerically
  • symbolically
  • haphazardly
  • Record a poem
  • Contact
  • A love like this (49)
  • Abandoned multiplex (65)
  • After the breeding season (51)
  • All I ask (36)
  • Annual report (128)
  • Another short poem about depression (0)
  • Anxiety (9)
  • Anyone else predict a riot? (99)
  • Apparently, 93% of all communication is non-verbal (21)
  • At Père Lachaise (68)
  • Because (99)
  • Benefit of hindsight (43)
  • Beyond Gold (90)
  • Book review (61)
  • Book water light (107)
  • Brighter later (22)
  • Buying clothes at M&S, in one’s mid-50s (21)
  • Career’s end (99)
  • Clearing the attic (65)
  • Cold comfort (69)
  • Counselling course (142)
  • Decisions (127)
  • Different ballgame (169)
  • Disarm now (95)
  • Dogs carrying balls (40)
  • DQSN (73)
  • Dream: (72)
  • Driving at night (24)
  • Fade (120)
  • Fifty seven (48)
  • Flailing (75)
  • Flow (227)
  • Full stop (81)
  • Glitch (89)
  • Glitter (102)
  • Growing apart (143)
  • Growing uncertainty (70)
  • Harden oughf oryou? (12)
  • He writes another poem about death (29)
  • How holidays resemble life (107)
  • How soft we are become (58)
  • How we hold hands these days (42)
  • In transit (34)
  • Just passing through (57)
  • Kissing in glasses (45)
  • Let me go first (67)
  • Like the sea (36)
  • Linen (125)
  • Living in the moment (25)
  • Lob (62)
  • Looking at ancient photographs (64)
  • Lost keys (33)
  • Lottery (68)
  • Low-hanging fruit (53)
  • Make do and mend (74)
  • Middle-aged man (74)
  • My failing powers (23)
  • My mother hums (98)
  • Near-death experience (31)
  • New Victorians (88)
  • No great epiphany (31)
  • No plans to move (66)
  • Not a Valentine (89)
  • Not far off 50 (102)
  • Not unromantic (142)
  • Offering (42)
  • One last kill (62)
  • One long holiday (72)
  • Our first grandchild (61)
  • Parisian embarrassments: Gare du Nord (118)
  • Parisian embarrassments: Place de la Bastille (64)
  • Persuasion (109)
  • Places I’m about to leave (71)
  • Pont des Arts (40)
  • Rather as if (78)
  • Restaurants where we used to eat (144)
  • Rewind (35)
  • Right or wrong (72)
  • RIP Larry Tesler (30)
  • Rock, music (150)
  • Role model (38)
  • Rugby news (13)
  • She thinks about their forthcoming anniversary (26)
  • Situation vacant (77)
  • Sofa, then and now (65)
  • Sports Science: exam (15)
  • Tennis de table (197)
  • The after-me (99)
  • The Grinning Years (152)
  • The happiest I’ve ever been (26)
  • Things get sadder (49)
  • This week, I have been mostly worrying about: (128)
  • Those Dog Brand Values, in full (179)
  • Time’s passage, in late middle-age (11)
  • To do (100)
  • Towel (123)
  • Travel essentials (39)
  • Two middle-aged blokes are served by an attractive young waitress (108)
  • Unperturbed (17)
  • Up on the Downs (116)
  • VHS (97)
  • Watching Masterchef (83)
  • What if? (70)
  • What married people like best (95)
  • What we did earlier (55)
  • What, again, already? (25)
  • Whereupon (111)
  • World of pain (81)
  • Yet another end-of-a-holiday poem (80)
  • Young man’s game (105)
  • Zugzwang (20)

Would you like to record yourself reading one of the poems here, for other people to listen to on this site? If so, please follow these fairly simple instructions:

  • Choose a poem you would like to read, preferably one that hasn't already been recorded.
  • Use your smartphone's voice-memo function to record yourself.
  • Say the title of the poem, then read the poem, clearly.
  • If you would like to say, "read by..." after the title, please do.
  • Provided it's clear, how you read the poem is up to you. Don't worry if there's a bit of background noise, as long as it generally sounds OK to you.
  • When you're happy with what you've recorded, please email your m4a file to lindsay@lindsaycamp.com

Lindsay Camp — Low-hanging fruit — Rewind

If I could have one wish come true

I’d press rewind on me and you

and go back to before we two

first met, and then without ado

we’d fall in love, my love, anew

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Find a poem

  • alphabetically
  • numerically
  • symbolically
  • haphazardly
  • Record a poem
  • Contact