All Things Tire of Themselves

Time parts memory

They say only the aged die of nostalgia, yet  
Still young, I lift ten years to resurrect The Lane,
Gas-lamps, fog and chestnuts roasted
On a shovel gingerly held above hot coals.
The Lane of their hearts scream with loss
In the dim-lit streets where lovely boys  
Once bounced over toys and ruins  
Left by wars of storming fathers.

A poem was the first thing Arnold Wesker wrote aged 14.  All Things Tire of Themselves is his first collection of poetry, a publication which fulfils his ambition to have covered all the literary genres. Tonight he now fearfully shares these poems with the public.

Two years ago Arnold Wesker published his first novel Honey to live alongside four books of short stories, two collections of essays, an autobiography, a children's book, 44 plays, assorted radio, TV and film scripts, and a great deal of journalism.  In 2006 he was knighted for 'services to drama'