Dressed for Court
- Details
- Written May 2014
Calling for silence
With a stern look
Beneath a name of fame:
Her majesty the queen,
Sitting bolt upright.
Suited for soliciting
The case folded neatly on the arm,
High-heeled swagger,
One to accuse, the other refuse;
Clearly pros and cons
Up and down the corridor.
Uniformed by the law
Shoulder tabs grading rank
Rough and tough, but kindly,
Handcuffs at the ready
In case he's sent down
For wristband labelling.
Just ordinary, plain-clothed,
With worn-out footwear,
Waiting in fear to appear
When all they'll do is plead mercy,
Hoping for the best
In a well-dressed world.
May 2014
In the waiting room of Bromley Magistrates' Court.
The Forecast
- Details
- Written March 2014
No ringing bell, no beeping electrons;
Just a spontaneous burst of something inside
As the World Service switches off,
Welcoming us to Radio Four.
And we go round and round these islands
From Malin Head to North Foreland,
Land's End to Channel Vessel Automatic,
John O'Groats to the Eddystone Lighthouse,
With low pressures and high winds,
Gale warnings and a squall off Rockall
Or calmer waters for the fearful sailor.
And then it's done, so turn over -
To dream of a foghorn blasting the mists,
Warning of impending danger,
Alarm bells and a ship's evacuation
As a steeple, well clear of the coastline,
Peels out bells on a quiet Sunday.
But today it's different as I wake, confused
By the FTSE 100 and the OBR.
They're getting ready for the square mile
Of money-changers in the temple of today,
Working on the deficit and budget forecasts,
While I dream my dreams of a costal walk:
White cliffs and white sands,
Rocky shoreline lashed by the waves
With spray rising as the gulls swoop down.
And I wonder what's happened, like Rip van Winkle
Waking when it's all over, to find them
Working to make those forecasts come true.
Yet here we are, stuck in the past,
Enjoying what was, awaiting what’s promised
So it's time to get up and join the crowd
Chasing the day that accelerates time,
Leaving us behind, until we rise
To correct our clocks – just one hour forward.
March 2014
Early morning radio listening at the start of British Summer Time
FTSE 100 and the OBR
- Details
- Written January 2014
Cracking branches, bringing down twigs,
While leaves drop as the sap freezes,
Leaving boughs dead and sorely bereft
In the depths of winter,
Bringing us down to earth
In our own struggles against the elements,
Struggles for expression from Broca's area
Hidden away in the temporal lobe,
Messages blocked by the fuzzy deposit
Filling the gaps like moss between cracks,
So that speech disappears into stony silence
And a new language is born
With one-forty characters, or nothing at all,
Until a thrush tweets from a surviving branch
Sharing its own message of joy,
And we join in, bursting into song,
Words and all, in praise of the creator,
And we're in touch, one in voice,
Waiting for new life and the buds of spring
Here in the depths of winter.
January 2014
Inspiration
- Details
- Written January 2014
Strands of DNA entwined,
One amino acid after another
Joined together with the precision
Of the sequenced triple helix,
That speaks of a maker,
Father, Son and Spirit
In perfect harmony.
Just seven of twenty-six letters
Strung together with infinite variety
On lines and spaces between bar lines,
The meter, tempo, time,
Setting the pace, creating the mood,
Making the chaotic beautiful,
Creating sense from no sense
In a language of its own,
Until the lyricist opens the dictionary,
Adding a further dimension,
Unscrambling nineteen more letters,
To make further sense
In a marriage of words
Blended with the melody,
And we sing along, hardly thinking
How this all came about.
January 2014
Countdown
- Details
- Written September 2013
Check on the blood-pressure, measure the girth;
Stars of the Milky Way, beats of a drum;
Three in the middle of finger and thumb.
Two plus three makes a mystical number;
Time in the morning to waken from slumber;
Five on one stone, the rest on the other;
Rules in the holy book to live with a brother.
Four noble truths, the sides of a square;
Limbs of the body, legs on the chair;
Points of the compass reach the ends of the earth;
Four-minute mile proving what we are worth.
Aspects of humanhood, persona of God;
Sides of a triangle, men in a boat;
Chivalrous musketeers ready to fight
Never a compromise – strive for the right.
Tusks of the elephant, horns of the cow;Ears by the side of them, eyes by the brow;
Masculine, feminine, in two by two,
Fruitfully multiplying, that’s what they do.
Use all the numbers, leaving just one;
Words are completed, soon we’ll be done.
Twenty six letters scrambled for fun
Nine simple digits – now there are none.
Emptied of everything we have been taught;
Language of God, and the mystery of nought.
Count down to zero, we know He is there
Infinite Being, of whom we’re aware.
Roll with the jazz, the rhythm and rock;
Lines and spaces, tick of the clock.
A B C D, E F G
Five, four, three, two – one, two, three.
September 2013