For the Love of Jack

Remember our Jack, who picked up his beans
and walked away from those who sought
to exploit his fear and vulnerability?

Remember how he walked away
from agencies who smelt
an egg of gold?

Our Jack didn’t give a bean
for banks who showed no interest
for as long as he had –
Jack squat.

No, our Jack put his beans
in a medium sized hole
he dug with his own hands
in a good old river bank,
and his care for those beans
never altered.

Even when they laughed at him
and took his shoes
and told him he was trespassing
upon their mean old patch of land
his love light never faltered.

So our Jack sat down on his jacksy,
and watched his beanstalk fare,
and now our Jack’s beans are plenty
for all kind folk to share.

But for the love of Jack we’re hungry,
and the giants have their way,
But for the love of Jack we’re broken,
Take your beans and walk away.

On Writing

Sweet words chew me

like tooth-clagging sticky toffee

in their luke warm ink shower.

Poetry addicts, they get in the flow,

spilling me out more tastily

than life intended. It is in their interest:

these gourmandising friends are wise advisers,

but their candy grabber misses often,

only occasionally dropping good.