The Intrepid

Tall Savannah grass, he had to drive on its only road it was narrow
had no pavement, he rode his scooter could see the ears of big cats
listening.
It was noon, the lions didn’t like the smell emitting from his scooter,
animals only eat when hungry.
He stopped switching off the motor he wanted to be attacked by a lion,
be eaten alive he thought life would give meaning to his futile life.
The silence was total heard insects crossing the road sound like a regiment
on war foot.
Now or never, walked into the tall grass remembered lines like
“I’m the master of my destiny.”
What rot! He knows nothing about the future.
The savannah was an oat field, a farmer shouted scared the lions away.
Sometimes we will be eaten by the worms in the soil
that is undignified.

The Fluidity of war

We live in a strange and relative time.
Russia doesn’t want war; Putin has made his mark
we respect him; the USA understand his concern
If you cast your mind back to the Cuba crisis in 1962
when the Soviets had bases in Cuba, the USA demanded
the Soviets removed the nuclear weaponry and the bases.
The USA has internal problems so serious it can split the union;
border conflict is of little interest.
Ukraine doesn’t want war, asks Europe not to meddle.
NATO has proven it has gone a base too far and should
be dismantled for the sake of peace.
Britain is recalcitrant bang, a big drum, no listens.
What interests the USA today, China is spreading?
its wings across the pacific that’s a pressing concern.

Beer Sonnet

I have a bottle of German beer in the fridge
and naturally cloudy, first brewed in some small town
in Bavaria in 1624.
They didn’t make the beer clear and decided to call
the brew Dunkel (cloudy), PR, yes it existed it worked
now it is a world-famous beer.
It also cost a bit more, which never fails to attract snobs.
I opened the beer dislike the colour me, a Budweiser man
of the type brewed in the USA
A band of clouds was, obscuring the sunset it was Dunkel
a sentence not spoken but sensed even a child could get.
I drank the beer, let the tomorrow keep its secret.

The boxer and the actor

I saw them on the sidewalk near The Radio music Hall
in New York, Jack was telling Alan a joke
Jack Dempsey wore a sport’s jacket, brown trousers
a white shirt’s open, top button open
shiny shoes; Alan Ladd, wore a grey suit, with matching
tie (Everyone had shiny shoe trainers not yet invented)
I noticed he was considerably smaller than Jack.
I was in awe had never seen someone famous
life and up close; this was, in 1957, I was so young.
I bought a ticket to see the show at the music hall
before the movie dancing girl came to the stage
with live music and plenty of thighs.
The final was a big kick a woman got it wrong
she kicked with her left leg when she realized her mistake
shifted to the right leg; too late, the music had stopped
but with one leg still in the air, it was what I remember.

Tomorrow is the near future.

I live near a stream that has been running dry for years
there used to be a winter lake too, now drained
as a landing pad for military helicopters
trees around get dusty like tired soldiers on the western front.
There is edginess in Europa, many years of peace the monster,
that lurks in mankind awakes.
We think we know the enemy, as usual, we are wrong
when listening to the voice of antagonism.
A new page of history written we don’t know which
side to choose, when millions of people killed
and the last bomb dropped, then it doesn’t matter which
sides we choose.
Poets will write for peace; few will listen to their warnings.
The new peace can last, but only so long, because the human mind
is bent on war; this is our tragedy the voice for peace is a child cry
in the symphony of the battlefield.

…And It Was Her Summer


“Go back to the children’s home, she said I have no work and
can’t afford to keep you” Late June afternoon she sat on a bench
with a man, I didn’t know. The man smiled I didn’t like him, but
took the coins he gave me to buy an ice –cream for; I was still
hanging about so mother got up and slapped me across the face.
” Get lost you, stupid boy!” My face was burning I threw the coins
into the lake and ran away. When I stopped running it was night
and I could see sheep in a field, I was tired and cold, thought of
seeking shelter in a little wooden church, but it smelt of fear and
I thought of ghosts, so I walked on till I came to a workman’s hut
near the road, it was easy to get in; here the smell was of coffee,
and kind men in overalls, perhaps one of them were my father?  
It was morning and warm sunlight when they came, they were not
angry, but gave me milk and bread and showed me the quickest
way to get home. The sky that day was enormous and from a hill
I looked down to the town, I could see the school building it must
have been early, no children in the yard; but I just sat there and
could not understand why my mother didn’t want to see me.

War kills

Retina less windows
Bodies were strewn on foul streets
A photo of Grozny
Summary execution
Death sways from unlit lampposts
Friend or foe
Who knows?
Conspiracy of peace
Both sides declare victory
The truth is debris