There is bird song still in autumn
Despite the shorter days and heavy rains:
They may have only tiny brains
and yet I find the little buggers awesome.

Back to the front

=======================

I carry a Mills grenade in my right hand

Life pulled the pin from it a while ago

Without my wavering grip, it will explode

My flesh and blood to scatter where I stand

=======================

Lemon

Just like a lemon, hard pressed at full squeeze

My heart gives up its juice at every beat:

Under the bitter weight of love dismissed,

Of life’s dismantled dreams and dark defeat.

Haiku

Winter-forgotten garden

Rain-sodden shed

Crying its dark-cloud tears

The arrival of Spring

At once the sun had hid behind dark clouds

And a Northerly wind picked up and brought

With it much needed rain, but also cold –

The coming Spring concealed beyond its shrouds

Divertimento Working from Home

I am at home, I want to play!

So many things I want to say:

 

Though I may deal in silly rhymes

I am not master of my time -

 

I must strive and get along

(can’t stop to sing my little song).

 

When night time comes I’ll want to cry:

I saw my Muse ... and passed her by!

No speech

No speech for me: it will ring hollow
Shame will set in, despondency follow.
No golden watch, no picture frame
No board display or sign of fame
Spreading through the whole Department
Like sweat down cotton undergarments.

Palomita

Palomita de alas grises
Levanta triste tu vuelo
En estos dias de duelo
Y no en los dias felices

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

Tunnel

I saw the light at the end of the tunnel
and my heart sank, for it was dim and distant.
My loss of heart lasted only a short instant -
I got back to my work and my wrench and spanner.

Seismo

Angélica, hierática me miras
Desde la cumbre astral de tu montaña
Pierdes así toda apariencia humana
Te despojas de artilugios y mentiras




Y tu acólito, asombrado, sueña
Con beber de tus nieves derretidas
Por la energía de sus arremetidas
Y fricciones tectónicas: Oh dueña!




Qué avalancha de lo alto viene
Arrasando a su paso catedrales
Con su mezcla feróz de lodo y piedra!




Sólo al llegar al Valle se detiene
Sepulta gentes, plantas y animales -
No distingue las frutas de las hiedras

Delegation skills

I can read you like an open book

All I ever have to do is ask

If in your little list there is a task

You’ll delegate to me: one look

And I can tell you will want me to cook

The grouse you’ve shot and hung onto a hook

The gutted herring you’ve tossed into a cask

Pan de centeno

Pan de centeno te doy, Pan de centeno
con lonjas de queso de cabra
y largos tragos de agua
ya va el estomago lleno.

Ya va el estomago lleno
y como lluvia en diciembre
permite que el campo se siembre
salen de mi las palabras
nacidas de hambre y de suen~o.

Day in the office, another

The day started well enough -
the Sun shone from the East
But then you had to unleash the Beast
While trolls and imps hid in the mist
and as the day and our works unravelled
I swear I heard them laugh:
They sent me down a creek, but kept the paddle

I have a name, it's on my badge
To you it may not amount to much
But it's my name, now duly engraved
In crisp black letters on acrylic
In Roman type, not in Cyrillic
So that you all can understand:
No more your head you'll have to scratch
When our paths cross in the office loo.
No more will I have to be "you" -
I will be me: I have a name
And now I also have a badge.

To Do List

What I must do is digitise
Or should that be 'prioritise'?
I need to check the kids for lice
I must get 'cats' to deal with 'mice'
"Please buy some prawns for my fried rice"
I'd like some coke served with my ice!
My life just flashed before my eyes
Stripped of all clever disguise
The day out there looks jolly nice:
The pastures green under blue skies

The Dream

I drew my sword - its blade shone in the light
of a full moon in a cloudless night
when every star was there to witness
my certain death: oh, I was short of fitness! -
and of skill.  Only my heart was greater,
but of that fact I would learn later.



Now I've slained my foe, an empty feeling
comes over me as daybreak finds me kneeling - 
Neither in thanks nor to proclaim God's glory,
just to recall the fight and craft a story:
for when I see my foe I realise
the corpse is me - Victory my demise.

12 May 2014

Catch mice

Do not go chasing butterflies
Instead catch mice
And bring them to your lair

They’re good to eat
And entertaining fayre

But do not look
Into their little eyes

Lord Turton (1851 – 1913)