Rip Tide

August 3, 2016 at 9:25 am (Poems, sociology, Stories) (, , , , )

The tide tipped and turned
Sweep-blow-draining all away.
One cafe remains.

 

One broken cup man
orders customary chips
and consults his stars.

 

His hopeful soul
hangs loose in the empty bay
waiting for a wave.

 

Permalink 1 Comment

Forest

July 12, 2016 at 3:44 pm (Poems) (, , , )

We chop and maul, we reap and crop
where life is cheap, but may we stop
and think again in forests few,
of crunching leaves and falling dew?
And may we walk so we can hear
sounds lost to us if we should clear
those placid guardians of the wild
we take for granted? Once exiled,
by loud machines that cut through wood,
our ancient souls are gone for good.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Gutted

June 24, 2016 at 9:07 am (England, history, Poems, sociology) ()

Unembracing
Ununited
Inward facing
Blighty blighted

Permalink 4 Comments

Together

June 22, 2016 at 11:21 pm (Poems) (, , )

Tomorrow, please vote, from seven till ten,
persevere, for time can’t go back again.

Five aims of the EU; five things we try to do:

Together, we promote economic and social progress –
helping people earn enough money and get treated fairly.

Together, we speak on the international scene –
By working as a group Europe is listened to by other countries.

Together, we introduced European citizenship –
As citizens of the EU, we have four special rights.

We want Europe to be an area of freedom, security and justice,
and to help Europeans live in safety, without threat of war.

We maintain and build on EU law,
in order to protect people’s rights in member countries.

Persevere, for time can’t go back again.
Tomorrow, please vote, from seven till ten.

 

Thanks to CBBC Newsround for clear explanations, borrowed in this poem.

Permalink 1 Comment

Remains

June 16, 2016 at 9:48 pm (Poems)

We all must stand up and load the fallen on our backs
We all must carry the weight of their promise
It becomes our burden when their love is cut like a rose
And it is we who lie bleeding eternally,
Unless we can find the path they so recently forged to a hopeful garden
and wrench its gates ajar.

 

Permalink 1 Comment

Taking Care

June 15, 2016 at 7:58 pm (Poems, poetry, sociology) (, , , , )

Through the depth of each night, till the dimming of days,

it’s a difficult path to the parting of ways.

For the sake of us all, for our dads and our mums,

The carers will carry the vulnerable ones.

 

When others step sideways, the carers come through,

to meet expectations that daunt but a few.

Intuition and patience, resilience and smiles,

They will take up the slack for the final few miles.

 

 

 

 

Permalink 3 Comments

Liquid Asset

June 7, 2016 at 9:57 pm (Poems) (, , , )

Robert, the last documented micro-entrepreneur, reached the door of the bank just as the lock clicked. He rushed to the library to access the internet, but austerity raced him there and shut the door. He was cross, hot and thirsty, unable to access vital funds to buy that last drop of –

– water

unstoppable energy

dripping, pouring, gushing

back to the beginning

ready to run again – water

 

Permalink 2 Comments

Folly

May 31, 2016 at 9:56 pm (England, Poems, poetry) (, , , , )

Upon Mow Cop, there stands a castle keep.
Close by on high my humble tent is pitched.
Soon, snug in nature’s covers lie me down to rest.

Light stays up late in May’s last restless gasp
and those who latch and lock miss this great blessing.
Close by on high my humble tent is pitched.

In night’s deep lull, there is a frosty chill,
which holds me to the earth and marks my bed,
and those who latch and lock miss this great blessing.

With morning dew I dip and rise anew,
my body fresh with hospitality,
which holds me to the earth and marks my pitch.

And Biddulph stretches morning arms aloft.
The cows stand tall to greet the coming day.
My body fresh with hospitality.

Toil beckons and I pack my tent away
and boil a kettle on my little stove.
The cows stand tall to greet the coming day.
Soon, snug in nature’s covers lie me down to rest.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Rear view

May 13, 2016 at 9:09 am (philosophy, Poems, poetry) (, , , )

Facing backwards on the train

to see the place I’ve been, again,

to meet the people facing me

whose eyes reflect what I can’t see.

 

The world behind is a surprise

that meets my back before my eyes,

and if I never turn around

I’ll never know what I have found.

 

Permalink 4 Comments

Cup

April 27, 2016 at 7:11 am (Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , )

A good idea

the coffee cup

with my name on

when ordered up;

A shame the man

upon the train

went to great lengths

to hide his name;

It would have been

a chance to meet

the friendly face

in the window seat.

 

Permalink 6 Comments

Next page »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 483 other followers