Monday, 1 July 2024

Fort Worth

An unfiltered brightness
blinds me, in Fort Worth.
To East Chase, on a bicycle,
shouts from pick-up trucks,
like, "lady, don't die."

The grass sounds and scents
the journey, and I stop half way.
I stand, aware of the movements,
and make sure to stay away
from the vegetation's inhabitants.

In the house, I don't realise 
that cats and air-con
live hermetically-sealed lives,
and will be long gone
if an opening is even implied.

Saturday, 1 June 2024

Bottles For Crushing

The civilised entries,
of bottled-water empties,
are sobering sights
for the cola-prone. 
Not one machine working
once I'm done returning
my bottles for crushing,
Diet Pepsi and Coke.

If she were stronger
she'd mainline no longer,
but she's weak and addicted,
and she's very old.
She's got vouchers profuse
that she forgets to use,
from her bottles for crushing,
Diet Pepsi and Coke.

In the Covid pandemic
she stocked up incessant,
but not one sliced pan
or pack of toilet rolls.
Her husband despaired,
and her children went spare,
but she had bottles for crushing,
Diet Pepsi and Coke.

(To the tune of Molly Malone).

Wednesday, 1 May 2024

No Bells

Maytrees flowering,
like nothing is wrong.
Rain still showering
all spring long.
Age is devouring 
youth and song.
No bells left to ring,
that time is gone.

Monday, 1 April 2024

April

The cat resigned to stay inside,
staring out from his cushioned settle,
following a fieldmouse with his eyes
until it merged with the moss and pebbles.

The thirty-first was dull.
March had come in like a lion
and gone out like a discouraged one,
leaving April to be defiant.

It will still be spring for a month.
Time for the sun to touch and rouse
flagging spirits and feared outcomes,
making things right, turning them round.

Friday, 1 March 2024

The Surrogates' Tale

Old Abraham was eventually led
to fatherhood, by Hagar's bed.
The surrogate begets the heir,
then Isaac sets him back to spare.

Mithra, Constantine
replaced with Christianity,
but kept the details of the Persian god:
Shepherds at the birthing scene,
Magi there for visiting.
Tradition covers up the fraud.

There's Jacob, his harem steading,
his wives' younger sisters bedding.
Wedded wombs and concubines
bring forth the heads of the twelve tribes.

Mithra, Constantine
replaced with Christianity,
but kept the details of the Persian god:
Shepherds at the birthing scene,
Magi there for visiting.
Tradition covers up the fraud.

Mary, handmaid of all handmaids,
when virgin birth was all the rage.
Rhea raped for Rome's first brothers,
Raised not by Mars, but Faustulus.

Mithra, Constantine
replaced with Christianity,
but kept the details of the Persian god:
Shepherds at the birthing scene,
Magi there for visiting.
Tradition covers up the fraud.

Thursday, 1 February 2024

Burn

Maybe, just to be safe,
they should burn right down
every single dwelling place
in every single town.

It would reassure these tyrants
that the housing list
is as much for migrants
as for arsonists.

If we could exchange
these criminals for refugees,
it would save time on statements
from the dogs in the streets.

Monday, 1 January 2024

A Different Woman

As a one-remaining-grandparent child 
I was absolutely fascinated by
the idea of other children going to
their nana's after school.
As a treat.

A far-fetched notion to me
whose grandmother seemed
at the very best, removed.
But, Anna's set of photos prove
all her happy years.

Friday, 1 December 2023

Cursory Rhyme

All the different spiders
went up the water spouts,
down came the rain
and left the spiders in no doubt
that there isn't enough sunshine
to dry up all the rain,
and that flood prevention measures
must be put in place.

Even little spiders
can work the problem out,
floods must be contained
and kept away from every house.
The spiders think that hosepipe
bans could be prevented if we drained
away the excess water
and stored it for sunny days.

Wednesday, 1 November 2023

Unfair Trade

The British Mandate's broken promise,
an unfair trade, never honoured.

Oranges and lemons, say the bells of South Yemen,
You got a good bargain on the African carving,
When will you pay us?, say subcontinent natives.
You became rich, say the bells of Serendib.

Now boxing clever, with ringside neighbour:
May the odds be ever in your favour.

(Rishi Sunak, the UK prime minister, met with Benjamin Netanyahu in Israel, on 19th October, to declare the UK's support for the Israel prime minister and his country. He said, "we want you to win."
Win? The Hamas attacks on 7th October were not the beginning of animosity between Palestine and Israel. Israel has not suddenly become aware of Hamas as an enemy. I don't understand why the UK, and the US for that matter, seem to think that the Hamas atrocities of 7th October mark the start of a war that came out of nowhere.

To me, the people on the Gaza strip are like those in the arena in The Hunger Games).

Sunday, 1 October 2023

Are You Right There, Marty?

You may talk of the pros of going railing
up, down, and across this country,
and all of the petrol fumes saving
by transporting yourself publicly.
You'd run for the train in the morning,
but you'd have to be there before eight.
And why bother with all of that jogging
when Renault's got wheels at your gate?

And as you're driving all terrains,
you hear yourself sing this refrain:

Are you right there, Marty, are you right?
As you travel free by morning, noon, and night.
RTÉ pays you for runnin'
a car that Renault's fundin',
it's the life, now, Marty,
it's the life.