Here I am again Banging my drum. —— Nothing new here, So regular readers, move along If it’s novelty you seek. —— I’m triggered by the news On radio 4. That Britain’s not ready For war —— And that war hasn’t yet begun. I wonder what was said By that great Russian To the peopleContinueContinue reading “What is a war?”
Tag Archives: Poem
Uncle Peter’s cutlery drawer.
I visited a few weeks before he died., A year after he was widowed. I didn’t understand the illness. ——— Addiction to morphine left him running for the toilet Whenever the dose was cut. ———- I was sent out to buy steak. I came back with a pie Which he barely touched, Nor the vegetables.ContinueContinue reading “Uncle Peter’s cutlery drawer.”
Plasticine World
I wrote this in early 2020. It was originally two pieces, 1st a rather fun poem, poking fun sympathetically at global inequality, and my place in the world, and it was well received by my handful of readers, but it was followed quickly by a supercilious rant, which I tried to make a 2nd verse.ContinueContinue reading “Plasticine World”
Pictures
— I’m looking at pictures of a potential sweetheart. She looks different in each one. But in each one she’s interesting, genuine, And lovely —- A battle between the heart and mind, And the heart mostly wins. —- I will lay myself at her feet A sacrifice on the altar of her destiny Mine mattersContinueContinue reading “Pictures”
Tinned pears
How many wives make their own tinned pears, From pears grown on their husband’s tree? These were a triumph! But this the last jar. Had you been saving it, Or were they just lost beneath our bed? . None of that nasty grape juice here But proper sugar syrup, And strange foreign bodies Of someContinueContinue reading “Tinned pears”
Too difficult
To feel your presence I look for you in the wind I look for you in my thoughts I look for you in the garden And in the bed … And all I find is silence …. I find little signs; The sunflower Which the bird planted Which I was promised would never flower IsContinueContinue reading “Too difficult”
Poem by James Fraser
What feeling I have in my heart, no one else has. It’s a warm feeling. No one can take away joy because it is alive in my heart. Like in church, you have a happiness, not a deadness. God says happiness is good. We’re all the same. We’re all one. We’re not two people. LikeContinueContinue reading “Poem by James Fraser”
Nettles
Food that fights At first they seem innocuous,A small stand of light green stems and leavesUnder a newly planted plum.I welcome them as a source of spring healthiness and vigour. But despite regular cropping they become stronger,And Stronger.They fight like lowlanders at Culloden,Each defends his brother with a sideways thrust. Ouch.The pain continues as theyContinueContinue reading “Nettles”
The corpse’s protest.
Who are you? —— That put flowers on my grave? Did you love me? —— Did you care? Did I know you? ——- Could I trust you? Could you know —— I didn’t choose to be alone? Don’t you know —— I had a heart of stone? And you comment; What a pity ——- ThatContinueContinue reading “The corpse’s protest.”
James
I don’t know much about James, Only that his heart is not filled with cold cynicism like my own. His mind is uncomplicated and his spirit pure. He sees opportunity in the weariness of strangers. The pleasure of kindness. I am jealous of James. I don’t know if I can learn from James. https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://www.oxfordmail.co.uk/news/18328363.kind-hearted-james-leaves-gifts-nhs-staff-battling-coronavirus-john-radcliffe/&ved=2ahUKEwjE3YevyrvoAhXMYcAKHaijC0wQFjAAegQICBAB&usg=AOvVaw2E-bjwudscyCwO9IqrwHYV IContinueContinue reading “James”
A month of stormy Sundays
The third weekend of “Wet Play” in a row. A challenge for someone “in his prime”, who is imprisoned at a desk through the week. The short days mostly passing by unseen, or unnoticed, Outside the office window.Let alone the poor postman bent on his Saturday morning round,And returning home sodden and exhausted. IContinueContinue reading “A month of stormy Sundays”
Station cat
Station Cat I see you often Stretched across the card reader That guards the step free access. I guess you have a story, Not just a pat on the head from each passing commuter. Today your cover’s blown! My train is slashed from eight carriages to three, This puts me centre stage atContinueContinue reading “Station cat”
“And one clear call for me”
“And one clear call for me!” How I yearn for this call. A call to arms A call to action A call to war. What is wrong with me that I can only imagine a call to fight. A call to create? Too much has been created. Too much has been made. Too many busyContinueContinue reading ““And one clear call for me””
Political anonymity and the end of the world
Dear friends,I nail my colours to the mast.I am a tory, but I didn’t vote for them.Is this of interest.No.Not if you don’t know who I am, or have no interest in me.If I am political, I must be public.If I am intelligent but not political I should shut up. (no, really).It is no goodContinueContinue reading “Political anonymity and the end of the world”
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