Wednesday 14 December 2022

The war of the seasons

In October, it’s hand-to-hand combat, tree by tree
Winters says, ‘admit it mate, you can’t beat me.’

Summer says, ‘yeh, well I’m not rattled
Your dirty tactics won’t win this battle
I’m saving up daylight; I have plans for next year
Your leaves will rot and I have spears
I am returning, further down the road
In every garden, a crocus is waiting to explode’

 

In November, low pressure brings
Winter misery, a blizzard of metaphors
It’s the ‘beast from the east’ says the news
The experts advise us, ‘close your windows’
In December, in a railway carriage on frozen rails
The seasons bring out their finest brains
To broker a peace deal, once and for all
Despite their best efforts, it fails

 

January. Brooding skies lower like pewter
Battalions of mist creep down from the hills
Just when the ground seems to be lost
Summer brings up its special forces – the daffodils
In February the deadlock goes on. But, hear that sound?
The trees are whispering. Summer is tunnelling

It is marshalling an invisible army
of worms and microbes, deep underground

 

May. A sponsored walk is trashed by rain
Another disappointing bank holiday
In June, summer delivers a body blow –
Lovely weather for the flower show!
In July, a tornado attacks the Henley regatta
Summer says, ‘it really doesn’t matter
In August, winter, so quick to the wicket
Totally ruins a game of cricket

 

Still, it seems much hotter than before
There’s a reason, global warming has joined the war
Summer says to winter, ‘now I’m in clover
Admit it, bruv. The show is over.’
Winter replies ‘that means storms and flooding, right?
That will make for a bumpy ride
People are going to be terrified at night
Oh, by the way, spring and autumn are on my side.’

 

No they’re not, says summer. They are with me.’
And so it goes on, for centuries
Humans arrive and invent new technologies
They say that weather is isobars, not deities
But they act surprised, when rain stops play
They cannot erase their primitive fears
Of the irrational. They do not want to, actually

For, without them, there can be no poetry


 

Wednesday 5 October 2022

This is what modern Conservatism looks like


A skeleton holding an empty cup
A death star imploding on itself
The toll of doom from a cracked bell
Margaret Thatcher’s corpse in a mouldering bear skin

A shrieking pipsqueak in clown’s shoes
A refugee paddling on a Lilo
A ribbon cutting ceremony for a food bank
A cancelled children’s Christmas show

A fanatic’s Twitter feed
Hospital radio for the deaf
A cleaner working an extra shift
A hairdresser with a chainsaw

A bucket of boiling frogs
A pike eating a minnow
An oiled seabird
Pound shop bunting on a bungalow

A banker’s bonus
A melting ice cap
An eviction notice
A bonfire of workers' right

An ocean filled with plastic waste
An ordinay shooting weekend
A minister lounging on a green bench
A hedge fund manager's new Ferrari

Friday 19 August 2022

The day it rained

 

Becalmed in that sun-blasted hulk
we languished in the dog days.
The flat sea was like glass.
We yearned in that wooden world
for our old life to return.
 
We prayed for the sighing rain
or a line of green on the horizon.
Suddenly a cry came: land ahead.
The sky cracked and, slowly at first
the wind pushed like an old friend, the shed.
 
The moisture that we had sought
blessed our cracked lips like a sacrament.
I looked about at the scorched grass
the flagstones that fire had burned
and the skeletons of lupins and spent lavender.

Friday 6 May 2022

Helios


A frown passed across the sun’s brow

He said, It’s gonna be gloomy now.

See how I tug on your moods, like a string.

See the emotions I can bring?

I am the master of your planet.

 

I know everything. I control you.

See that cloud over there?

Think you can move it, with your mind?

Go on. Oh you can’t. Nice try, bro.

 

There is more in this universe

than you and your trigonometry.

I am that which cannot be understood.

I know you because we are the same stuff

 

the same atoms, the same breath

the same humours and elements.

I am everything and everywhere. I am numinous

That’s why you should respect me.

No worship is required, merely humility


Wednesday 9 February 2022

Minister for Brexit opportunities

Thinks ....

Mmm ..... Now that my hedge fund’s based offshore

Lots more money than before

 

Droits de seigneur on my estate

That cottage with a squeaky gate

 

That means a spot of guilt free sin

Those serfs will have to let me in

 

A free shag and a mess of pottage

They’re gagging for it in that cottage!

 

Horses’ hooves and knacker meat

There’s lots of food for them to eat!

 

You wouldn’t see their stunted forms

Tucked up in bed in Eton dorms

 

What a shame that family

Will soon be downsized by TB

 

I said those words ironically

I learned from Jimmy Carr you see!

 

Oh tax ... you have a point my man

On that, I have a cunning plan

 

We won’t need it anymore

To fund the lifestyles of the poor

 

The NHS, the BBC

Will be consigned to history

 

Rights and benefits, the lot

All that Commie tommy rot

 

Spotless whites and country wickets

The hangman’s noose, children with rickets

 

Scottish moors and well-hung pheasants

Hunting with compliant peasants

 

All this opportunity
Will come to us now we are free

 

Tug the forelock bend the knee

It’s swedes for you and steak for me