The Surrender of Breda

So, this is what defeat is like - not the petty defeat of the pitch or the court
where the pain may be sharp but will also be short

But the feeling that comes when a city surrenders
and it opens its gates to let enemies in
and to let all control and all power march out

Oh, it is hard to surrender your defences and walls
Throw yourself at the mercy of the conquering foe

Let the young try to escape with their meagre posessions
Leaving behind the old, with their pride and obsessions

Now the drums of the victors can be heard getting near
Like the beat of our hearts as they race, filled with fear.

A Train Journey

Alone with my thoughts and with a borrowed pen
I sit in the carriage of a Liverpool train

It now canters along, past the wood and the flashes
In a clearing I see of bonfires the ashes

Then it gathers speed, being Liverpool-bound
Out of Wigan a train and my heart, rattled, pound
and my thoughts in my head swirling round and around

All the fear, the shame, the mistrust of the future
The regrets of the past, that invisible vulture
All the fear, the shame, the foresaken illusions
The expectations not met and the wrong contributions

With the pen I have borrowed I scribble some lines:
Will they help me in my journey and arrest my decline?

Oranges

An orange grove under the midday sun

The flowers white, the leaves of a dark green

The expected fruits, for now, a distant dream

of daytime light and night time breeze

till nature’s work is done