Poems

Foot and Mouth

Ill defined, incoherent, ominous and enthralling,
A sense of the inevitable – dread descends.
Omnipresent and omnipotent, the joy-clogging
Fallout cloud of twenty-first century, all-important, profit-practice envelops.

Comforting and sensible statements do little to assuage the fear,
The beautiful, bird-song full spring day
has a bitter, lazy-wind edge
and strength Is sapped.

The rebellion of the natural system proceeds,
Fair warning has been given – little heeded,
Headlong into oblivion
The driverless train lurches.

6th March 2001

Birdsong Disturbed

The noises, manifold, unfold.
The bird – song – sheet.
Spring time rapture, captures -
essence of rightness.
No wilderness to fear.

Domesticated wolves bark in the distance.
But dull roar interferes.
Hundreds of meaningless moments
in an instant captures -
the rapture ruptured.

An otter utters.
A nutter mutters.
The bodger badgered.
The rabbit’s habits -
are disturbed.

The ‘micking’ and cussing of skulking brown birds.
Snatches and phrases of song.
A wren erupts into splendid trills.
As with the world nought is wrong.

Shrill wren, spring harbinger.
Trilly, madly, peeply.
Troglodytes my friend,
thou art noisy
for one so small.
Such gall though not tall.
Cave dweller, little fellah.
Wren will I see you again ?

Long-tailed tit in the gorse tripping out messages in morse.

The drone of engines as they try to copy the birds.
A low rumble of traffic noise.
Mowing machines work overtime -
burning up precious resources.
Suddenly Professor Yaffle loses his poise.

8th March 1993

Foolish Verse

A tree that grows in the morning will flower before the wolves cry.
A tree grown for paper – waste will not value the nightingales.
When the tree planted in the earth reaches to the sky - the man with the axe is a fool.
The man with the chainsaw earns his pint and is home for tea.

France 1996

What more can a man want ?

What more can a man want ?
Than a good woman, a faithful dog, his feet and roots on the land and his head with the angels.
To be part of the cure, however small, and not part of the cause.
To try, and to understand; always learning and never forgetting to appreciate the little things.
The song of a wren, the contemplation of a skilfully engineered spider’s web.
A breath of wind. The smell of growth. The sounds of living.
To live a life and not to die by degree. ‘Ever onwards and upwards’ they say.
An angry young man, a stressed out middle age, a disgruntled and bitter twilight ? The sum of the parts ?
More is not necessarily better. Contented contemplation. What of emotions when the body – machine ceases to function ?
To approach the reason for being – existence.
I think therefore I am.
I am what I am but is there something more ?
To light one small candle against the darkness.
What more can a man want ?

15th March 1993

Poems from Norfolk (1982-1986) :-

Bright and Beautiful

All things bright and beautiful, the lord God made them all
All things wise and wonderful, I cannot see at all
Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings
He made mankind who blights them, and corrupts in everything

Ghost Bird

My pretty ghost bird
More oft seen and not heard
Mice and voles
Hide down their holes
But in acting thus
In the dawn and the dusk
Ensures them no meal
So with a squeak and a squeal
They sally forth

Barn owl, foxes howl, cats yowl
A bird to give fright
Of the dark, in the night
But now we don’t see
The bird in the free
Poisons and guns
Have taken their toll
And with the badger
And the cat of the pole

To see one is rare
A sight you’ll agree
That all should take care
To keep this bird free
And as with all life wild
This task rests on one and all
The aged to the child
Should take up the call
To keep this ghost bird

The barn owl ghosts unheard
Across the open field
The mouse lets out just one word
It comes out as a tiny squeal
Barn owl dives – pounces
Little mouse makes a dash
Barn owl lifts its precious ounces
The mouse’s squeal was it’s last