Poetry

Friday 18 February 2022

Storms Z

 

You could be Zeta, or Zola or Zoe

You could be Zena or Zela or Zebe

Zobe or Zib, Zacharia or Zak

You could fell mountains

Like a lumber Jack

But unless you're a storm Z

It won't be no good

To be turning your cartwheels 

In my neighbourhood

 

If you're an Andrew and Angie or Ann

Then you may turn over my light caravan

If you're an Andy an Ant or an Ama

Then you may blow me over like a Hephaestion hammer

Just don't be a Billy a Bob or a Bobe

For if you are either

You'll run right round the globe

And Peter yourself out with Patrick and Petty

And Potter with Harry or Hurley or Henry

And Hurricanes Hurry down a Stormy Alley

For these are encyclopaedias of Cyclone Sally

Chopper and Chaucer, Chav and Chives

Storm Eunice and Eunuch and Eustice and St Ives

Iva and Ivory, Ivy thorn and India

Elephant and Elbow and Elvin and Elver

Eels and Wheels and Well spring and Wheller

And Fatso, and Fortune and Fun times and Fella

Berty borrowed Barry

And Ben stole Steve and Stephanie with Kelly

And Casandra with Eve

Queenie over Quebec

Farmer Giles and Jeeves

Lupin and Lola and lilliput and leaves

And all of them Storm names or so I believe

But it doesn't matter anyway

As long as your house is not cleaved

 

Storm Song

Swaying pines and falling limbs

Stormy times and all sorts of things

 

Blown out in the garbage

Raised up from the ground

tumbled down in the torment

And torrents of sound

Streetlights flashing

Manhole cover protectors blown down

Snow drops and crocuses all hugging the ground

Ducks hunkering down silently

No quack can be heard

As they move in their little soft hurricane herds

Branches are scattered and dead ones do fall

And all that has mattered in the storm's

dancing ball

And the sun comes out gently

And then is chased away by clouds

When the wind blows violently

And blows oh so loud

And the little ducks on the pond

In the waves that surround

Little ripples upon the perfect ground

And sticks that fall like darts from heaven

And cracking whips and howling hounds

The hounds of the sky are howling and chasing

the fox of the sun

And round and round the heavens

They do run, they do run

And this is Storm Eunice

How it has rattled our cage

And this is the pumice of a volcanic age

 

As boys ride on scooters and some women walk dogs

Some cars with their hooters and some toilet bogs

The splitting and the wavering of the trees all around

The cracked limbs open in the hell hole mouth

And the split trunks open as the wind drives south

And north across the Mendips

And backwards and fro

And in through the mouth where the twisted ones go

And all the twisted, twisted poor limbs

That wind has wrapped up like a sweet wrapper at whim

And they pushed just about as far as they'll go

As it comes crashing down with the rainbow

And the clouds they are talking 

They are shouting their rhyme

And the people are sorting their Allotment lines

And they're holding on to their hoovers, 

To their hoops and their twine,

And they're battening down the hatches of their sheds

Just in time

 

And plastic shelters are here always over, over

And this is the way that the dogs call rover

and how do they go, how do they go?

 

It howls yes it howls 

And the falling rain blows

and it howls and it goes

And it howls, it howls, as it goes as it blows

 

All the crooked houses and trees come down

They are wandering all the town

The fences are broken and old blown away

And they make room for a brand-new day

 

And the storm comes down when the storm comes out

And they break down gently and all of them shout

And the walls fall down, and the walls smash out

And they blow down gently, gently about

 

What damage? What damage is seen today?

What damage from the fallen and decay?

Oh, the walls fall down and the crack in clay

What damage, what damage is done today?

 

Oh, the walls fall down, and they fall away

And the winds blow about, blow about all day

And they're making love, and they're making hay

What damage, what damage is done today?


Storm Eunice

Storm Eunice

Oh, the wind blows high, and the wind blows low

The wind blows high, and the wind blows low

All up the Bristol channel

Away to the left and back from the right

Come out of the west in the East are blue skies

The ships are beset by the spring tide

All about Storm Eunice lies

And the windmills turn and shut their eyes

And the fires burn all through the night

The beacons show on dark hill sides

All about the Southwest sun rise


Well, the wind blows high, and the wind blows low

Yes, the wind blows high, and the wind blows low

And it's no surprise and you ought to know

That the storm never is as bad as it goes


Why they scare us so because of insurance

They don't care for us they just have to warn us

Because the lawyers want paying and they tell us so

That the wind blows high, and the wind blows low


And the commercial ships sail up the market on a tide of investment

That they control and can mark us

Out to be sheep tamed by a shepherd

Whose afraid of imaginary wolves that surround us

And we listen so because it’s easy, and the food comes

in and words make us queasy

Because investment's ship must stay afloat

So, whatever you do don't rock the boat


Oh, the wind blows high, and the wind blows low

But nobody dies and there's a bright rainbow

The birds understand they don't listen to the snow

That's the white noise news of British radio

They fly in the sky and are battered to and fro

But they use their common sense and keep their heads down low

They don't need to be nannied by no nanny state

They just want to be free to sing on the garden gate

Thursday 17 February 2022

Pylon talk

 Pile on the pressure

Power to the people

Cross the T's, and dot the eyes

I'm blindsided by this indifference 

To the countryside

 

Along came a giant striding

Jack was out milking his cow

His magic beans they needed dividing

But nobody really knew how

Yet he dropped them in the garden and

Overnight they grew

A giant bean stork

That reached up to the sky of blue

 

 

And they marched these Angels of energy with wings out spread

These Atlases of wires carrying their skipping ropes in stead

Walking the rope bridge

The tight rope line

To bring power to the people

Time after time

 

Some say they are moths

Waiting for the right moon

To unfold their wings

And take flight

Up into a burning light

Like Icarus who fell

They will never quite touch the sun

That travels along their poles

These cold white giants

Will hum like tubular bells

And fill the levels with their Angelic singing tones

Their nuclear hymns

And ringing carols

Of Christmas tree lights

And Fairy spells

Whose homes they have trod on 

And angered in dells

And dips and alcoves, hillocks and streams

And if you touch them at night

They may harvest your dreams

 

But Jack the giant slayer is not afraid

Pylon the pressure he said, he says

I will lift up my axe and fell the great trunk

And the giants will fall from the sky like drunks

 

Wrinkly crinkly Hinkley will wrap

And shrivel up like a crumpled crisp packet

Under the imploding electrical surge

And outage will shout "Age" for all concerned

And Youth will not tumble, youth will not burn

And the sun will keep shining until we have learned

That we cannot eat star dust

Or travel to space

That our planet is dying

And we must make haste

For the flowers in the field yet bloom

And I think I have heard a sonic boom

As we planned the future

But it decided itself

These are the best laid plans

Of mice and men


Tuesday 15 February 2022

My lady has lain in the lane

 lay me down in the filed

I have lain her down to rest

The lady lies! I say she lies

She has lain herself down to rest

She has laid her head on the pillow

The lady laid the table

The lady lay but I lie, as I lie beneath the willow

Come lady of the lane lay down with me

Come lady lie on my bed

Come lady lay in the middle

And we will muddle through the rest

When I first laid my eyes on the lady

She was laying down on her breast

Her back was bare as billowing sail

And white as a lie detector test

Don't bear in mind my correspondence

The lady said when she laid pen to paper

Sunday 13 February 2022

Counting the miles

 I was travelling on the Orient Express 

Working as a stoker to earn my passage.

I wanted to get to Istanbul,

But we stopped off in Budapest

Then Bucharest

The rest is history

 

Well somewhere about Cluj Napoca

A strange man walks on board

A little stiff

Like he had a splint for a neck

He sits down

Calling himself The Count

I think I heard this one

before

But the thoughts don't mount

 

Soon the passengers start dropping like flies

I don't know the body count

But it was pretty high

And they all seemed to have been given

Two inoculations to the neck

The anti-vaxxers said

That was just what they'd expect

The vaccine is a killer

Well, the truth is far from that

For when he alighted from the train

I noticed the Count was rather fat

"There are more calories in a pint of blood he said

Than in a pint of beer, did you know?"

I said "I didn't know that, no",

Then he said "And who might you be young man?"

Well who is it who wants to know who I am?

Count Vlad said he, as meek as a lamb

Indeed you see he was a Siam

Or perhaps a twin of one who came from Japan

"Well of course then kind gentleman Sam

My trade is Stoker and my name be Bram"

"Unusual", said he "for such name to travel

One had thought it would stay home on the gravel"

And not gravy and stir the newly passing year

Well said I, I heard Istanbul is nice about now

I'd like to see the Blue Mosque and circle the prow

I'd like a dip in the Bosphorus and to see and delight

In the Turkish city's quarters in the midst of the night

 

"I too", said the Count "would like to explore that foreign world

Which is why I have travelled with gold and with pearls

You see a lifetime of living has set me quite dead

With the hum drum voices of pageantry and dread

I've heard too many screams and too many calls

To fill my dreams like a nightmare's halls

And instead, I want to drift down consciousness' stream

And out to Xanadu with the restless bream

I want to let go of this Romanian Rowel

I want to throw the dice, let them fall where they fall

Will you gamble with me friend come and seek out a night?

For in the shadows, they are hiding my Turkish delights"

 Well, I said "Count if you promise to behave

I'll go along quite easy though I'm not looking for my grave

I wish to have some fun and paint the town pink

With that he bit a currant bun, and I watched his teeth sink

In quite deep and noticed their length

I thought to myself now Bram how unusual their strength!

They seemed to be capable of biting through a shoe

With that I commented "Count, I'll see what I can do

When I get off at Istanbul, I’ll get cleaned up then find you."

“A deal it is” he said it kind of sly

And I thought I could see the glint of a silver moon in his eye

But now I thought I'd leave it and turned back to stoke the boiler

One day I thought I'd write a book and don't want to tell a spoiler

 

So that was how me and the Count we got well acquainted

I must say I found his ways quite strange, a little antiquated

But none the less we made it some twenty hours later

Across the Bosphorus strait, that lovely stretch of water

And the heady lights and sounds of Istanbul bit us like a bug

As like more passengers seemed to drop dead in the grip of a death hug

I counted myself lucky to have made it with the virus going round

And as I stepped off the sinking ship, I felt like the last rat who hadn't drowned

 

Istanbul was pretty amazing in its ways, the sights and sounds of markets

The smells wafted up in a maze,

I felt lost and found all at once, and gladly fell into deepest slumber

As the stars they whirled in wonder

Around and round

The fires grate was spitting, when revived I came to sitting

And remembered of my promise to the Count

It seemed so strange yet fitting, to be here with one so noble

Yet my brow was knitting as to how me and him might dance the paso doble

The parachute tester's ball

 

At the parachute testers ball

I just dropped in to say hi

You look like the kind of guy

Who wears a silk shirt

Hi

Say Hi

Hi, how high

Oh, from that balcony over there

To the stair

I dare you guy

Why I don't care

I've tested thousands of parachutes before

What's one more silk shirt

Swinging from a chandelier?

So, he positioned himself on the bannister’s edge

Overlooking the dance hall

The mezzanine floor 

was like a bomber's open door

And he bit his lip and said a prayer then leapt and reached for the chandelier

What a stunt! What a feat of human feet

And engineering

Said the boffins below

Who had all studied aerospace dynamics at Bristol

Whereas he just thought he'd give it a go

I worked my way up he said, one step at a time

Until I reached the pilot’s bar

Where the wings hang out

The red bulls and the Icarus's who fell

The Minotaur and his lover

And Daedalus is dancing the fox trot

With the young men from Athens

Who invented the parachute, they ask?

Was it Socrates or Plato?

Aristotle or Pluto?

No, it was Galileo

So where is he when you need him?

He's calculating the coefficient of friction

That is your grip, as you slip

From the last candle stick

That has been burning from the dusk til dawn

And 

And what?

Eventually you'll fall

Like a feather from the tower of Pisa

Onto the folks below

Or a hammer blow

Yes, more likely

Now put on the silk shirt 

And let's see you test the vest

It is the safest place to try it

As there's paratroopers ten abreast

And they will catch you like a leaf

Or you'll come to a grief

But either way you must leap

Into the great unknown