Poems
BODY AND MIND
Alpha saw the body and mind
The same. But in time
As they grew together, body
And mind became a parody.
Then they imperceptibly
Began to separate, subtly;
The mind saw future bigly planned
The body struggled with task in hand.
Necessity put the body first
With hard labour to pay for thirst.
But mind won a learning place
So body fell from grace.
Out into the world they went
And fought till both were surely spent.
Yet mind stayed straight and true,
But bones crumble as ruins do.
The future:
It won’t be long till mind
Follows suit and we find
As they, again, grow together body
And mind no parody be.
Omega and alpha
Since ever the world began.
Alpha and Omega
Is the human span.
Tuesday, 16 November 2010
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TEA
I like coffee
But coffee has its place.
For me,
Only tea,
Has the beauty and the grace
To warm when bones are cold,
To lift from deepest glums,
To calm when anger takes hold
And to cool when hot as oven’s buns.
‘Tis tea, tea, tea
That’s the only one for me!
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
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My homage to the humble Pork Scratching:
PORK SCRATCHINGS
Imagine if the Garden of Eden
Had pork scratchings or even
Pork crunch.
If Eve and Adam
Had had ‘em
They wouldn’t have had apple for lunch.
27 July 2009
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LITTER
One thing guaranteed to get my blood boiling is the amount of litter that is spoiling our environment. Everywhere you go there is litter. Even down picturesque country lanes you will find discarded sofas. Millions of pounds a year is being spent on cleaning up after the mindless lazy morons that seem to think this state of affairs is OK. It’s about time they started to pay for the clean up and not the tax payer. Fine them heavily. If they can’t pay get them to spend their time picking litter.
I was so incensed I jotted down some poems:
I
The nimble rat noses the bin.
Why he does it I cannot say.
There’s little in it for him,
But plenty on the way.
II
On path
Aftermath
Youth’s passing
Amassing
III
Litter, litter, everywhere.
No hope, I think.
Litter, litter, everywhere,
Brimming to the brink.
IV
Stone age
Bronze age
Iron age
Wastage
V
A man finds a stone,
A knaped arrow head.
Three thousand years alone,
Ötzi’s copper watershed.
Iron is hard to find,
Marks only in the clay,
But plastic left behind
Lasts for ever and a day.
What will the ‘ologists find
In years yet to come?
All that’s left behind:
Man’s lessening sum.
24th Jan. ’09
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WHITE HORSE WEDDING
In 2007 I had the privilege of working with a young lady who originates from Alnwick in Northumbria. During a conversation she expressed a wish that one day she would be married on horse back up the top of a mountain. I think this is a wonderfully romantic idea if rather impractical but if anyone can pull it off then LH can!
After this revelation I had a moment of inspiration (rare in me I admit) and slowly pulled together a poem and here it is. Strangely enough it is heavily influenced by Great War poetry.
A Bride on a White Horse
(For LH from PT.)
Up in the bright mountain light,
I see a girl on a horse that’s white.
A glowing girl on a white horse proud,
Lovingly admired by the wedding crowd.
Over the burbling burn they go,
Past tussock grass and bilberry’d banks,
‘Mid scent of ling and patch of snow,
A wedding train on the horse’s flanks.
The husband watches his wife ride by,
With quick’ning pulse and glint of eye.
A whaup calls high upon the wing,
Sunlight glisters on a wedding ring.
Pip Taylor 14th April ’08.
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I’m an avid reader of poems. Especially of the Great War. It’s easy to read poems but not so easy to write one! And the same can be said for the writing of a novel, I’m sure. At any one time I’ve at least half a dozen collections of poems near to my chair in the living room.
I have only ever attempted two/three serious poems in my life and none of them do I regard as any good. The first poem I came to draught was after a college visit to the Great War battle fields of France and Belgium. It was some time in the autumn of 1986, or spring of the following year, I believe. Visiting the Menin Gate had a profound effect on me. I think it is important that everyone should visit the battle fields of the Great War and see the immensity of the cemeteries and the Menin Gate for memory of the men who died for us. Preferably visited in the formative years of a person’s life. If we all did this, just once in our lives, I’d like to think there would be no wars!
The first poem is clumsy, doesn’t rime and is perhaps naive. But it does mean allot to me! The other person in the poem was a fellow student Diann Radcliffe who, unfortunately, I’ve failed to keep in touch with.
The poem was probably influenced by Herbert Read’s Argument, Philip Johnstone’s High Wood but definitely Vernon Scannell’s The Great War. Click here to see these poems.
YPRES
I remember in ’86 it was decided
That the college should go on a short trip Belgium.
We boarded the coach in high spirits and made for
A place I remember Old Men speaking of.
We visited many places including a grass
Covered network of trenches and eventually tumbled
Onto the cobbles of the town call Ypres.
All but two of us struck out for beer and butties
But we made for the Gate of Menin.
The grey arching edifice shocked the senses.
We two gazed upon the ranks of faceless names.
(I even found my own.)
Turning, we found each with tearful mean.
That day we found our humility.
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The other poem was influenced, I think, by reading too many Patrick O’Brien novels and the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner!
Jacky and I cooked a large meal for our Gang with the main course being a “Wreck of Lamb”. It was a five course meal with the main course consisting of the complete rack/ribs of two lambs prepared and roasted. This was presented as a “ship wreck” on a bed of sesame roast potatoes as rocks etc. It went down very well and much was drunk! The poem was to hint at the meal to come.
THE PERILS OF A LEE SHORE
We was ‘omeward bound
Was we
In the cutter they called the Teal.
Wingin’ our way
Acrost the bay
And upto the Downs and Deal.
The wind was up,
The sea was up,
But the glass wern’t sinkin’ down.
The night drew in as black as pitch
As the clouds came a gatherin’ round.
The captain ups and sez at last;
“We’ve The Devil to pay tonight:
That howlin’ wind’s in from the West
And we’ve a tretch’rous shore to our right!”
We bent a close reefed tops’l
And prayed that it would last.
The chains were under, the deck was full
As the sea came a boiling past.
The carpenter ups with frightful mean:
“Cap’n she can’t take this swell!
She’s wringing her guts and started a seam
And there’s nearly two foot in the well!”
The captain chewed his lip until
He grunted then he grinned.
“Let go the anchor, take in the tops’l,
We’ll ride with her head to the wind!”
This was done as quick as light
And the pumps were a clankin’ fast.
The bilge shot out to left and right
As the sea came a seething past.
Her head swung up and round
‘Till the fo’c’s’le took it green.
Each man could hear the sound
Of breakers near unseen.
The captain he looked most vexed
And the men took up to fright.
Each man said to his next:
“I doubt we’ll last the night!”
All of a sudden the foremast was gone
And the main was down on deck!
The once proud Teal that winged like a swan
Was now a found’rin’ wreck!
Over the side went every man
Into the foaming soak.
On a moonless night our souls you can
Hear singing “Hearts of Oak”.
Passing Tars do some thinkin’
And think of the men at rest
When they looks on the Teal a moulderin’
As she sits on her wat’ry nest!
Circa 1994
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And now for Something Completely Different!
Alice Beer
Looked rather queer
Whilst appearing on the telly
She said “How do you do?”
With one foot in a shoe
And the other in a thigh length wellie!
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Percy Thrower
Was a Grower
Of great repute.
If you’d cut off a bit
And planted it
I’m sure that it would shoot!
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Leslie Garrett
Held a parrot
On her right arm.
The amazing thing
Before she’d sing
Would sound the alarm!
That’s all folks!
