The time of year is here when leaves turn brown
And well-fed birds point young beaks at the sky
The time of growth is over; they have found
Their feet; now they must flap their wings and fly
Over the sea and land to some new dry
Warm shelter which they’ll make their own and fill
With their own stolen sticks; where they’ll apply
Inherited instincts, do what they will
Tiptoeing on their own soil, dart and drill
For buried treasure moving underground
Sharp-eyed and wary by day, and, perched high
On distant branch, work done, ready to trill
Their thrilling songs, our simple tunes outgrown
Replaced by rare rapturous melody
Sun 21 Sep 2008
Sunday, 27 March 2011
747 - Sitting in a tin can
Hop on my 747 and come
Fly with me, not to Bombay or Peru
But to some new and far out places. Some
Are in your mind and some tasted in stew
Bought in a can in Sainsburys. A few
Are hiding like the crumbs in your keyboard
Maybe no longer tasting good to you
Old songs sing of these places; so do sword
Marks from our ancient skirmishes. Each word
Will take you back and forth through time; the sum
Total of a life’s travels. When it’s through
(The poem or the life) it’s on record
At each cloud station grab that harp and strum
No angel’s choir, no Frank. Just me and you
Sat 20 Sep 2008
Fly with me, not to Bombay or Peru
But to some new and far out places. Some
Are in your mind and some tasted in stew
Bought in a can in Sainsburys. A few
Are hiding like the crumbs in your keyboard
Maybe no longer tasting good to you
Old songs sing of these places; so do sword
Marks from our ancient skirmishes. Each word
Will take you back and forth through time; the sum
Total of a life’s travels. When it’s through
(The poem or the life) it’s on record
At each cloud station grab that harp and strum
No angel’s choir, no Frank. Just me and you
Sat 20 Sep 2008
746 - I'll drink to that
A week’s a long time in sobriety
As Harold Wilson said (or else Dexy’s)
Last night I went out and drank just coffee
And later on, orange squash at O’Shea’s
Don’t get me wrong, I do like to drink these
But they don’t change reality from its
Annoying tendency to lose the keys
To happiness, or sound off-key, take bites
Out of your legs; but above all, it sits
There on your shoulder, nagging constantly
Like pirate’s parrot in the Caribbees
Like Pontius Pilate, the truth never fits
So let’s wash our mouths of it and be free
And then life will be a Bacardi Breeze
Fri 19 Sep 2008
As Harold Wilson said (or else Dexy’s)
Last night I went out and drank just coffee
And later on, orange squash at O’Shea’s
Don’t get me wrong, I do like to drink these
But they don’t change reality from its
Annoying tendency to lose the keys
To happiness, or sound off-key, take bites
Out of your legs; but above all, it sits
There on your shoulder, nagging constantly
Like pirate’s parrot in the Caribbees
Like Pontius Pilate, the truth never fits
So let’s wash our mouths of it and be free
And then life will be a Bacardi Breeze
Fri 19 Sep 2008
745 - The Democratic Republic of Poetry
You’re the big man, you act like you know it
You’re like the scary headmaster at school
You’re the big man, local hero poet
Respect is due, we must follow your rule
But what respect do you show, Mr Cool
What do you care for what we have to say
From your poetry kingdom it seems you’ll
Exile us if we don’t blindly obey
Your divine right’s as wrong as the long stay
In Number Ten of Mr Brown the twit
The sight and sound of you is slightly cruel
If you’d love to be loved in the same way
That others are, then lighten up a bit
But then a poet’s ego is his fuel
Thur 18 Sep 2008
You’re like the scary headmaster at school
You’re the big man, local hero poet
Respect is due, we must follow your rule
But what respect do you show, Mr Cool
What do you care for what we have to say
From your poetry kingdom it seems you’ll
Exile us if we don’t blindly obey
Your divine right’s as wrong as the long stay
In Number Ten of Mr Brown the twit
The sight and sound of you is slightly cruel
If you’d love to be loved in the same way
That others are, then lighten up a bit
But then a poet’s ego is his fuel
Thur 18 Sep 2008
744 - Credit to the crunch
Give credit to the crunch: it’s natural
It’s Darwinian, red in tooth and claw
Yet more proof that as some rise, some must fall
Yes, I know economics is a bore
But this is more than that, yes, so much more
Like gravity, a basic building block
Things can’t only get better; that’s no law
That Newton knew. The circle of the clock
Encompasses repetition. The shock
Of the new is mere ignorance; it’s all
Happened somewhere before, someplace before
We’ve all been down, then up around the block
A clean slate, then, and start again on Wall
And less glamorous streets like mine and yours
Wed 17 Sep 2008
It’s Darwinian, red in tooth and claw
Yet more proof that as some rise, some must fall
Yes, I know economics is a bore
But this is more than that, yes, so much more
Like gravity, a basic building block
Things can’t only get better; that’s no law
That Newton knew. The circle of the clock
Encompasses repetition. The shock
Of the new is mere ignorance; it’s all
Happened somewhere before, someplace before
We’ve all been down, then up around the block
A clean slate, then, and start again on Wall
And less glamorous streets like mine and yours
Wed 17 Sep 2008
743 - Turkish delight denied tonight
Two nights ago I thought, That's it! No More!
Again, just as my heavy eyelids closed
The bed below me obviously bore
The randy couple, with bodies opposed
But meeting in the middle as his rose
And fell upon his rose, fair Turkish maid
As my walls shook again, I then proposed
To myself, for the first time, to parade
About my room, stomp and bang doors. I made
My displeasure clear, let them hear. I swore
And furthermore, swore to bring to a close
This era of 2 a.m. shags that's played
Out every night. They heard me, and forbore
To carry on up the Bosporus. They froze!
Tue 16 Sep 2008
Again, just as my heavy eyelids closed
The bed below me obviously bore
The randy couple, with bodies opposed
But meeting in the middle as his rose
And fell upon his rose, fair Turkish maid
As my walls shook again, I then proposed
To myself, for the first time, to parade
About my room, stomp and bang doors. I made
My displeasure clear, let them hear. I swore
And furthermore, swore to bring to a close
This era of 2 a.m. shags that's played
Out every night. They heard me, and forbore
To carry on up the Bosporus. They froze!
Tue 16 Sep 2008
742 - Views on the news
Collapsing banks, no thanks, keeping my dough
Under the mattress, that’s less risky now
In Zimbabwe, Mugabe’s feeling low
’Cause Morgan’s been talkin’ (now he’s allowed)
Here, Gordon’s orderin’ the Labour crowd
But those rotters, those plotters, don’t listen
Manchester City pity poor but proud
United, excited as sheikhs move in
Good night Rick Wright of the Floyd who’s passed on
To the Dark Side beside Syd; bid adieu
The Channel Tunnel fire has somewhat soured
The Eurostar trip; most are worryin’
But I’m smilin’ - no violin needed, no
With health, if not wealth, I’ll still sing out loud
Mon 15 Sep 2008
Under the mattress, that’s less risky now
In Zimbabwe, Mugabe’s feeling low
’Cause Morgan’s been talkin’ (now he’s allowed)
Here, Gordon’s orderin’ the Labour crowd
But those rotters, those plotters, don’t listen
Manchester City pity poor but proud
United, excited as sheikhs move in
Good night Rick Wright of the Floyd who’s passed on
To the Dark Side beside Syd; bid adieu
The Channel Tunnel fire has somewhat soured
The Eurostar trip; most are worryin’
But I’m smilin’ - no violin needed, no
With health, if not wealth, I’ll still sing out loud
Mon 15 Sep 2008
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