LEST WE FORGET we Remember Them-ã 2006

What a day to be twenty-one,

A clear blue sky,

A brilliant sun,

A contradiction!

There is no birdsong,

The silence is eerie!

A feeling of unease,

Fills my being!

As I look at

The foundations remain,

Just like graves.

I have visions of grief!

Panic and fear, of

People I’ve never met but,

Will not forget!

The rows of reminders,

And yes the gas chambers,

It’s painful to the eye!

Two remaining huts are full

Of the inmates memorial!

A tangled, metalled mass,

A sculpture of a brutal past!

Remember Them

It is an August day,

I will never forget!

No where, no way, no how,

I’ll never forget the day,

And my visit to Dachau!

The torment they went through,

I can’t begin to know!

But I can honestly say,

My heart is filled with sorrow!

We all know where we were,

The day that Elvis died,

Likewise J. F. K!

But the day that’s most imprinted,

On my soul,

Is that day in Dachau

When I was twenty-one years old!

 

ODE TO THE MINDLESS - ã 2006

Wheel treads scar the blades of grassy sod

And leaves behind a sea of mud

A year it will take to repair the mess

To overcome the deeds of the mindless

But as each year goes by it gets much worse

While we pedestrians edge past and curse

At cars and vans parked on paths and grass

Whilst the disabled cannot pass

Perhaps one day they will see the facts

In blocking the way on grass and paths

Of their ignorant ways and selfish acts

If they are disabled, disgruntled and cross

With no way around for them to pass

They will see the circle turn in full

See once and for all how the mighty fall

Now that they can plainly see

Through the eyes of their disability

The moral here is plain to see

What goes around can come back for free

If you wish to park wherever you like

Be prepared for the future to bite.

                                    

                                                           

TORNE’ DI SURRENTO - © 2005

 

Come back Sorrento calls to me

From Naples bay in Italy

What finer place is there to be?

Than with the summer sun on your back

Feeling so carefree

To visit Pompeii

With its volcanic ruins and rubble

While nearby Vesuvius quietly bubbles

Waiting its turn to cause more trouble

Go to Positano with its caverns and caves

To Salerno with its wartime graves

To Amalfi with its beautiful church and piazza

Evening drinks in Sorrento thereafter

Take a boat to Capri

Or a trip to Rome

It won’t be long

Before you’re on your way home

Go for a swim

Do the butterfly

Or just relax

And let the day go by

Read a book and forget yourself

It will soon be time to go

When there will be a whisper on the summer wind

Saying Torne’ Di Surrento

 

THE HARD SELL - ã 2005

I hear a knocking at the door

And so I pad across the floor

With dogs running at my heels

First there are barks

Then there are squeals

I open the door just a crack

As a man with a clipboard peers back

Would you like double-glazing he coyly asks?

As he starts on his impossible task

If you look around I think you’ll find

I’m double-glazed at the front and behind

Ah! Says he, now I see,

We do some nice conservatries

We can fix your roof

We can pave your drive

Our estimates are free

Won’t you let me try?

I’m afraid I won’t

There’s the Phone, goodbye

I shut the door and go to the phone

Breathe a sigh of relief that he has gone

Hello I say down the telephone line

Is that Mr.’X’? can I prevail on your time?

Before I can say no she is spinning her line

Would you like a new kitchen?

We do some nice ones in pine

 

CONTACT - © 2000

Across the universe

Many, many miles away

Someone is doing the same as me

Are you there? He seems to say

Am I the only one like me?

Is my breed unique to here?

Is there anyone on any other worlds?

Say, on that bright star up there

I would like to talk; indeed converse

If possible across the universe

Send messages by radio and get some feedback

Make contact with some like-minded souls

As an interstellar hack

Perhaps one day we may even meet

Off-world friends in their Starfleet

THE GOOD LIFE - ã 1999

Rolling waves break on the shore,

Lapping the sand and shingle once more,

I look out to sea, as a gull cries on high!

Then dives for a fish, in the blink of an eye

To feel as free as a bird on the wing,

It must feel good to soar and sing!

Yes you can fly, see as far as you care,

But there have to be drawbacks, up there in the air.

                                                                       

All beings have their limits,

As well as their gains,

So a seabird can fly,

But on land I’ll remain!

I’ll just have to paddle,

Instead of making a splash,

If I was meant to have wings,

I’d find them on my back!

We should all be contented,

With our lot in life,

Make the most of what’s given,

It can save all the strife!

I’ll walk along the seashore,

And look out to sea

I’ll think that yes I’ve a good life,

And I know so has he!

  

MORTALITY - © 1999

How deep the roots

How broad the trunk

How many rings hath the tree

It makes one think

To delve and burrow

Like woodpeckers  do

To research the living

The long dead too

Generations they're many

But how many have I

Ancestors, descendants

Still around when I die

Much less like a tree

Yet more like a weed

As one follows mortality 

Through that old demon seed

To know where you come from

Is important to some

To know where you’re going

Is important bar none!

THOSE WERE THE DAYS - ã  1998

English rural country life

Hear church bells toll, See birds take flight

As I wander down the hedge-lined lane

Thinking of my youth again

Hurrying to do my chores

Then playing conkers with the boy next door

Staying out till fall of night, do I have to come in?

Yes, it’s bath-time, all right?

Until tomorrow, I’ll see you again,

All right, till then, I should go in.

Those were the days, when we’d run and hide,

We’d leave our doors open wide.

No one thought to rob you then,

There was nothing much to steal,

Unlike in this present day,  

When they’d take whatever they see.

I still look at the old days, through rose tinted glasses,

When the boys were the lads and the girls were the lasses.

If only the circle, could turn back again,

But unlike our descendants, we can all but dream!

 

Minor Edit 16/09/2015

FATEFUL FORECAST - ã  1998

I stroll along the waters edge,

Beside the stormy sea!

As Neptune, aye and Davy Jones,

Ride white horses filled with glee!

On the lookout for unsuspecting,

Tankers, trawlers and yachts!

And not least, weekend fishermen!

Who get into a spot?

Of bother, there’ll be plenty!

As long as the sea is rough,

When the most seasoned of campaigners,

Can be swallowed by a trough!

As waves, they grow much higher!

 As boats, they bob and slew!

God help the men who are unprepared,

The captain and the crew!

Perhaps they will be lucky,

They’ll escape the jaws of death!

Perhaps the wind and rain will pass,

But it’s safer not to guess!

If the forecast is for storm force winds,

Little ships should stay in port!

Remember all your loved ones,

Davy Jones might break their hearts!